Carried Away

This is for a special friend.

Hearts in contact are the best reasons to keep going. All comments are welcome at joanh0709@earthlink.net

Carried Away

by Joan H.

When I was younger, riding a motorcycle behind a rider was always exciting for me, dangerous and thrilling, and of course erotic because you had to hold onto whoever controlled the bike, embrace them while the machine vibrated under you. Riding a motorcycle usually happened in summer, some forgettable teenage boy pretending to be a daredevil biker, and me behind him thinking more about the smell of the trees flying by than about his skill maneuvering a mechanical horse. I liked boys, I liked holding a boy like that, but never enough to swoon.

Now years had passed and I was on a motorcycle again. But this time the body in front of me was a woman's body. She was no teenage boy. Her name was Gail, she was breathtaking, and throughout the evening at the party it had never dawned on me that she might be my ride home. Was it real? The feel of the motorcycle's engine under my bare thighs told me it was real indeed. I was wearing a skirt, had carefully folded it under me to keep it in place, but skirts are not made for motorcycles. No matter, I was thankful I had decided to leave my car at home and go to the party in a taxi.

Gail was certainly lovely, tall, a perfect face, high cheekbones, piercing eyes, a lean body in a tank top and tight black jeans. At the party, I had found her delicious to look at, and now I sat behind her on her motorcycle with my face resting against her neck and her scent intoxicating my senses. She seemed younger than I was, but I later learned we were the same age, just past thirty. I wondered if I'd stepped out of reality into a dream.

What did I want from her? I had no idea. I'd been in the dumps since my divorce, moving from one day to the next like an automaton. Did I want this? She was gay and I was far from that, no more than a few flings with girl roommates in college, then after college a completely straight marriage that fell apart when it became obvious that my husband drank too much to share my life. So why was I sitting behind Gail on her motorcycle? I told myself never mind that, I wanted it. I hadn't ever been with a woman like her, not anyone so exciting. That was it: she was impossibly exciting and I needed some excitement. Would Gail bring me out of myself, out of my despair? Would sex with a woman make me alive again? And would there be sex at all? Maybe this was merely a ride home on a motorcycle with nothing expected. She certainly hadn't hinted at the party that she wanted me in bed. Was I crazy to imagine I could go through with it? Giggling girls in a college dorm were one thing, but this was a grown woman and quite different.

Finally we were at my house, and as we rolled into the driveway it occurred to me the noise of the motorcycle had probably awakened everyone on the block and they might all be peeking through their curtains at me and this woman who was still a complete stranger to me. I knew nothing about her. Was she dangerous? But that too was exciting.

She killed the engine and I dismounted. After she stabilized the machine, she looked at me.

"Are you inviting me in?"

I nodded. "If you want to."

She seemed amused. "Oh, I want to, all right. You know I do."

We walked onto the porch. But before I could open the door, she pulled me into the shadows and kissed me.

"Last chance," she said. "If you'd rather I go, I will. You're new at this, I can tell."

"How can you tell?"

"Intuition. If you're not ready, let's not do it."

"I suppose I'll find out."

"How many women have you been with?"

"Only two."

"And a long time ago."

"Yes."

She nuzzled my neck and closed a hand over my breast. "Whatever you want," she said.

I turned from her and opened the door with my keys.

The second we were inside, the door closed behind us and the hall light on, she took me in her arms and kissed me again. Her hands slid down my back to clutch my ass through my skirt. Then her hands pulled up my skirt in the rear and she slid her hands into my panties to grasp my cheeks. I thrilled at the feel of her hands on my bare skin. There would be no dallying, no romantic seduction. She obviously understood that I was already seduced. I knew it was senseless to hold back. I was all hers.

"I looked at your ass all evening," she said.

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did, but only when you had your back to me."

"I'm too big down there."

"No, you're not too big. I like it the way you are."

How direct she was! I loved her for it. "You like asses?"

"A lot."

As we embraced, I was still too shy to put my hands on her bottom. Silly me. Then she removed her hands from my ass and started unbuttoning my blouse. I laughed and pulled her hands away. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Playing hard to get?"

"Definitely not."

"Am I too fast for you?"

I felt a clutch in my chest. "I don't think so."

"You want me?"

"Yes."

"Then take the blouse off and let me have a look at you."

I blushed when our eyes met. Her force thrilled me. My eyes on her face, I stepped back. Did she want to be teased? I was never much good at that. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, pulled it out of the waistband of my skirt and peeled it away from my shoulders. My bra was just ordinary, white, pretty enough but with hardly any frills and nowhere transparent. She seemed pleased, her eyes hot as she gazed at my full breasts encased in white. I pulled my shoulders back a bit. Did she like them large? Was I large enough? She was still a stranger to me.

"You're lovely," she said.

I blushed again. "Coffee now?"

"Only if you remain like that."

She followed me into the kitchen. I tossed my blouse over the back of a chair and busied myself at the counter with the coffee pot. I was uncertain again, my hands trembling. What was I doing? One part of me was sexually excited to a maximum, but I was also afraid, uncertain, my heart pounding. Why was I afraid? I had no idea. Was I afraid to know myself? Then I felt her behind me. She kissed my neck. Her hands slipped around my waist and moved up to hold my breasts through my bra. Her warm lips against my neck sent shivers up my back. I could feel her body as she pressed herself against me. She gently squeezed the fullness of my breasts and rubbed at the tips to find my nipples.

She whispered in my ear: "Let me take the bra off."

I said nothing, remained motionless, and she took that as permission. She could ask anything of me and I would agree. I was completely hers and I was certain she knew it.

She unhooked my bra in back, slid the shoulder straps down and helped me remove it. Then she stepped away. "Show me," she said. "Turn around."

I turned. I melted under the heat in her eyes. No one had ever looked at me this way, not like this. Even my husband hadn't paid such attention to my breasts. He liked to hold them briefly and squeeze them, but he'd never looked at them this way, gazed at me with hot eyes when I was naked above the waist, my breasts aching to be held and caressed.

Gail's eyes said it all, told me how aroused she was, how pleased she was with this view of my breasts.

"You're wonderful," she said. She moved forward, placed her palms under each breast and lifted their weight in her hands. When she bent her head and took my left nipple into her mouth, I closed my eyes and moaned. She sucked and licked, tugging at my nipple with her teeth. Then she moved her mouth to the other breast and did the same. When she finally pulled her mouth away and stood straight again, both my breasts were wet with her saliva. She still held my breasts in her hands. I looked down and saw that my nipples were swollen, sucked into stiffness.

She finally dropped her hands from my breasts and smiled. "All right, let's have the coffee in the living room." As she turned away and left the kitchen, I had a sudden epiphany that this was how it would be with her: she would always rule and I would always want her to rule.

I served the coffee in the living room, my naked breasts hanging as I bent over the coffee table in front of the sofa. I could feel her eyes on me. I wanted her to reach out and caress my breasts again, but instead she remained at ease, leaning against the back of the sofa as she watched me pour coffee into the two cups on the table. When I finished, I put the carafe down and walked around the table to sit beside her. I avoided looking at her. I felt so strange sitting there half- naked while she remained completely dressed. My hand trembled as I lifted my coffee cup and sipped at the hot liquid.

"You're nervous," she said.

I put the cup down. "Yes."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know that."

"Then what is it?"

"Maybe I feel strange sitting here half-naked."

She ran the back of her hand over my cheek. "It's a great turn-on for me. I like looking at you."

"All right."

She leaned towards me, and when I turned my head she kissed me. As soon as my mouth opened, her tongue was inside, her mouth clamped against mine, her tongue everywhere. The kiss lasted so long that when it ended I was breathless.

Again, she touched my cheek with the back of her hand. "Did you like that?"

"Yes."

Her hand moved from my face down to my right breast and she gently pinched my swollen nipple.

"Let's finish the coffee and find a bed."

As soon as we reached my bedroom, the passion erupted like a volcano. I thought we would undress, but instead she urged me onto the bed and then she covered me and started kissing me, fierce kisses that made me groan. She kissed me, slid down to suck my nipples, then slid up to kiss my mouth again.

I pulled at her tank top to get at her bare skin. Her lean body felt so good under my hands. I moaned as her teeth nipped my neck. Then her weight shifted and she quickly unzipped my skirt and pushed my skirt and panties down to my ankles. I kicked them away, then toed off my heels to be completely naked. I tugged at her clothes again, but she pushed my hands away and rose from the bed to undress herself.

So I lay there and watched her. I wanted time to look at her body, but she undressed quickly and soon joined me on the bed to press against me again. This time she was as naked as I was, and I dared to slide my hands down her back to feel the cheeks of her ass.

She kissed me again. Our tongues dueled as we stroked each other's bodies with our hands. She had an athletic body, with more muscles than I'd imagined. I loved the hardness of her rubbing against my nakedness, her mouth open against my mouth, her tongue sliding over my teeth and lips like a wriggling animal.

She used her leg to push my thighs apart, and then I felt her hand on me, her fingers stroking me gently, then with more firmness. I bucked against her as I felt her fingertips rub my swollen clitoris. I imagined my clit out of its hood as it searched for contact. I reached down and grabbed her hand and rubbed it harder against me. She understood what I wanted, and in a moment her fingers were inside my wet tunnel.

She hissed into my ear. "Now you're turned on."

"Yes!"

"Good. I'm going to fuck you until you can't take any more."

Her words thrilled me. I was helpless. Such a long time had passed since I'd been aroused like this. She had at least two fingers inside me, filling me, my vagina stretched each time she pushed inward. She raised her head and our eyes locked as she continued fucking me. She slid her fingers in and out, twisting her hand, rubbing her knuckles and then her thumb against my clit. I raked my nails down her back and gripped her tight ass cheeks.

I urged her on. "Faster. Fuck me faster."

She gave it to me fast and hard now, her hand slamming into me as she grunted and buried her face in my neck. I kissed her shoulder, then nipped it with my teeth. I was almost there. When I lifted my hips, she immediately took the hint and pumped even faster, grinding my clit with each thrust of her hand. Whimpers escaped my lips as my head thrashed from side to side.

She growled at me. "Come on, baby. Come for me."

I cried out, clawing at her back as my belly exploded. My pussy clenched and tightened around her thrusting fingers. I was vanquished. A woman I hardly knew had given me the best orgasm of my life.

Minutes passed before my heart settled down. When she pulled her fingers out of me, I opened my eyes and watched as she sat up. A shiver of delight went through me as she raised her hand to her face and licked her fingers clean.

She seemed amused as she gazed down at me. "Tasty."

I blushed. "You're marvelous."

"And you're delicious. But we need to get to know each other, don't we?"

I felt happy. "Does that mean this isn't just a one-nighter?"

She smiled. "Does your pussy belong to me now?"

Our eyes met, my heart beating hard in my chest. "Yes, if you want it."

1. Carried Away Ch. 02

When I opened my eyes in the morning, it took a few moments before I understood it hadn't been a dream. Gail was real. She'd gone home, refused to stay the night, said she had work in the morning, but she'd left her phone number and said I should call her.

I hadn't done anything to her. I thought she'd want me to make love to her, but it didn't happen. When I offered, she smiled and said next time. She teased me by rubbing her crotch with her hand. She said if I wanted it, I'd get enough next time to keep me busy. Her words made me blush.

Now it was morning and all I had was the memory. Would I call her? No matter the pleasure I'd had with her, I was afraid, uncertain about where it would go, afraid that sooner or later I'd be rejected and hurt by her.

Meanwhile, I had my job and I had to get dressed and out of the house. I rushed through the morning routine and drove in the rush hour downtown. I made it to the office in time for my boss to toss a pile of paperwork on my desk with a raised eyebrow.

"You look distracted," she said.

Marsha was just past fifty, smart, efficient, and motherly. I'd been her assistant for three years and I loved my job. Sometimes, because of the way she talked about women, I thought she might be gay. Was it true? I'd never given her a sexual thought. We had no personal relationship outside the office. She was a widow with two grown daughters. Was she really a lesbian? After my incredible night with Gail I looked at Marsha and wondered. I also looked at her in a new way--as a sexual being. For the first time ever I imagined myself in bed with her, imagined my face pressed between her large breasts. What would it be like? The idea seemed crazy. Had I changed so much in just one day because of my fling with Gail? Was it just a need for sex? I imagined Marsha had enormous nipples and she would demand I suck them for hours while she toyed with my body. I was shocked at how delicious I found the fantasy.

I glanced at Marsha and managed a smile. "I'm fine," I said.

She looked at me carefully. "Really?"

I blushed under her gaze. "Yes."

She finally turned and walked away. As I stared at her wide hips, I could feel the wetness in my crotch. Was I going mad? Was I a lesbian now? I decided choosing a label for myself was ridiculous. Gail excited me sexually, and now even Marsha excited me sexually. But what difference did a label make? Maybe I'd been gay all along and hadn't realized it. The two women were so different: Gail was as slender as a reed, while Marsha was all large breasts and wide hips. Maybe they were both exciting because they dominated me. Was that the essence of it?

It took me three days to muster the courage to call Gail. She sounded pleased to hear from me, which made my heart pound with joy. When she suggested we have dinner together, I immediately agreed. She teased me about riding on her motorcycle again, but she finally said this time she'd use her car and pick me up at my house at seven o'clock sharp the following Friday evening. We would dine at a posh downtown restaurant. "Dress up!" she said.

I was ecstatic when I put the phone down. A date! Such a long time had passed since a special date like this one. What should I wear? What would appeal to her? I searched through my wardrobe, but I found nothing that seemed exciting. So I went shopping on Thursday and bought a new black dress, knee-length, spaghetti shoulder straps, a V-neckline with a lace border, and a new pair of high- heeled black sandals. I'd wear pearls, tiny pearl earrings and a single strand of pearls at my throat. Then I thought about underwear. I had no doubt the evening would involve more than just dinner. I wanted to be sexy for her. The idea that I was dressing for a female lover thrilled me. I searched the drawers in my bedroom and found a garter belt and black nylons that I'd worn only once--years ago during my failed marriage. Merely thinking about the ensemble made me feel sexy.

I left the office early Friday afternoon and headed home to bathe, shave, trim my little bush, and get ready for this lovely woman who wanted me. By the time I finished my preparations, my heart was already pounding in my chest.

She arrived at seven in a silver Porsche, which floored me. She smiled when I came out of the house and walked towards her. She opened the door on the passenger side and helped me get seated. Then she walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. We were both in black: she wore a black silk pantsuit and a red silk shirt with a wide collar outside the jacket. She looked incredibly elegant. She was taller than me, tall even in her flat black loafers, a beauty as sleek as a panther.

The Porsche was luxurious. "I never asked what sort of work you do," I said.

She laughed. "I manage money for some people and I'm good at it. And what about you?"

I told her about the advertising agency where I worked. "I'm just a poor working girl."

Gail seemed amused. "Marsha Wilson's agency? I know her."

I was suddenly fearful that my relationship with Gail might complicate my job. Gail sensed it and reassured me. "Don't worry, sweets. What goes on between us is private, and in any case Marsha's a dyke and she wouldn't care."

"Marsha?"

Gail smiled. "You didn't know?" Then she looked at me, looked at my bare shoulders and then down at my nylon-covered legs. "You're ravishing."

"And so are you."

"I like the dress."

I blushed. "It's new."

She started the Porsche. "It suits you. All of it suits you. I like you in heels. You have great legs."

So there I was in a lovely restaurant with a hot date. I felt both giddy and uncertain at the same time. Did anyone recognize it was a date and not just two women friends having dinner together? What did they think? I told myself never mind, it didn't matter. Gail was too exciting for anything to matter except being with her. I tried to look nonchalant beside her in our booth, sipping a margerita through a straw while Gail had her hand between my legs. The possibility of discovery was both frightening and thrilling. Her fingers tickled my skin as they inched further up my thigh to find the top of my stocking and the stud of a garter.

She chuckled in a whisper. "A garter belt?"

I felt the blush in my face. "I thought you might like it."

"I love it. Now I'll be thinking about your legs and pussy all through dinner. Are you wet?"

Her words sent a shiver up my back. "With your hand under my dress, how could I be dry?"

"Good. I want you wet. I'll think about your drippings."

I blushed. "You're mad."

"No, I'm not. I'm sane and serious. Don't I look sane and serious to you?"

She did look sane and serious, which was part of what attracted me to her. She looked confident, competent, even masterful--and beautiful. I had to refrain from staring at the beauty of her face. And to remain calm, I had to avoid remembering our night together, her sleek body, her protruding dark nipples, her long endless legs, the shaped triangle of dark hair that adorned her sex. As we sat there, I had to avoid thinking about her body or else I would faint with desire. Yearning. Lust. I hungered to make love to her. I wanted her juices in my mouth. I hadn't ever done that to a woman and now I had a great lust for it. Again, I realized I wanted her so badly I would do anything she wished. But it was more than that: I really wanted her to control me. The idea of her controlling me sent shivers of pleasure up my spine.

Her fingers found the crotch of my panties, and I stifled a moan as I felt a fingertip stroke my clit.

"Your little button is stiff," she said.

My heart raced. "You're teasing me."

She chuckled as she watched the room around us. "Yes, I'm teasing you. That's about all I can do here, isn't it?"

"Yes, and they might catch us anyway."

She continued rubbing me with her fingers. "If we were alone now, what would you want?"

"I'd want to make love to you."

"How? Go down on me?"

"Yes."

"Hah."

"What does that mean?"

"Have you ever done it to a woman?"

"No."

"So I'll be your first. Well, that makes it interesting, doesn't it? But I'll have to teach you. Will you be a good pupil?"

"I'll try."

"Yes, you will, and I also think you'll be good at it." She laughed. "I'm getting turned on thinking about your mouth."

"You're making me crazy."

"But you like it."

"Yes."

"You're thinking about sucking me."

"Yes."

"Good girl."

"I haven't even had a good look at you yet."

"You will, sweets. After dinner we'll go to my place and you can look all you want."

Just then the waiter appeared and Gail pulled her hand away. Was there a knowing glint in the waiter's eyes? Did he wonder why two women had to sit so close together in a booth? He took our orders. Gail also ordered a bottle of champagne, and I wondered if she wanted to get me drunk to reduce my inhibitions. Champagne was always a powerful aphrodisiac for me. A few glasses would be enough, no need to get sloshed.

When the waiter left, Gail's hand immediately slipped back between my thighs. She sat on my left. Her right hand gripped the inside of my left thigh, fondled the soft flesh above the top of my stocking.

"Let me make you come," she said.

I moaned in protest. "Gail, please ... can't we wait?"

But she was already stroking me, her fingers firm against my sex.

She whispered in my ear. "You're dripping down there."

"They'll catch us."

"I don't care. I can't resist your wet pussy."

"I suppose you've known hundreds of women."

She chuckled. "Don't be silly, I'm not that lucky."

Her breath felt hot against my ear. I groaned when I felt one of her fingers push inside me through my panties. Her finger wiggled at the opening of my vagina, the sensation making me shiver with pleasure.

"I can't get inside you like this."

"You're so nasty."

She suddenly pulled her hand away and lifted it to her face. I blushed as she inhaled my scent. She put her finger in her mouth to taste me. Then her hand dropped down to slide between my legs again, and this time I could tell she was determined to make me come. Now I felt two fingers pushing the gusset of my panties into my hole and then pulling out to rub my clitoris. I thanked God our booth was in a dark corner. Her hand moved faster, and soon I closed my thighs around her fingers and buried my face against her shoulder.

She urged me on. "That's it, sweets. Come for me."

I came hard, my legs trembling, my head rolling on her shoulder.

"Perfect," she said. "I love the way you come."

On the way up in the elevator to Gail's apartment, she took me in her arms and kissed me. She smelled so good. I thrilled at the feel of her body against mine. She dropped her hands and gripped the cheeks of my ass through my dress.

"This ass is mine, isn't it?"

I trembled against her. "Yes."

"Show it to me." She made me turn. "Lift your dress."

Taking hold of my dress at each side, I pulled it up over my thighs and then over my hips. I moaned as I felt her hands slide over my cheeks.

"You're lovely," she said. "I like the black panties and the stockings. Very hot."

When we reached her floor, I quickly covered myself. Of course my pussy was drenched. No matter what she did to me, my juices flowed in abundance. For the first time in my life I was with someone who kept my heart pounding.

We left the elevator and Gail took my hand and led me down the hallway. In a few moments we were inside her apartment, the door closed, a hall light switched on. She made me turn my back to her and she moved behind me. Leaning against the wall, I dared to push my ass into her crotch. She chuckled against my ear. She pulled the shoulder straps of my dress off my shoulders and down my arms. She tugged the top of my dress down to my waist, and then she pulled up my bra and took hold of my breasts. She rolled my nipples between her fingers until they hardened with desire. She lifted my dress to my waist, slid her hand over my belly and into my panties to feel my sex. I tried to turn around to face her, but she kept pushing at me as I leaned spread-eagled against the wall. She suddenly pulled her hand away from my pussy and peeled my panties down my thighs and legs and helped me step out of them. "Legs apart," she said. I shifted my legs apart and I waited to be touched. Her hand came up between my thighs. "More," she said. I spread my legs further apart to give her access to my sex. She probed my hole, then stroked her wet fingers upward between my buttocks.

As I pressed my face against the wall, I thought I'd faint. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Suddenly her hand was gone, and when I turned my head to look behind me I realized she was undressing. So I turned my face back to the wall and waited. I was hers. I belonged to her with every fiber of my being. How would she take me? I quivered at the possibilities. In a moment she pressed herself against me again, rubbing herself against my ass. I could feel her pubic hair against my cheeks. Then her fingers were inside me again, and now another finger, maybe her thumb, stroking my anus.

"Do you like it here?"

"Sometimes."

"Your ex-husband?"

"Yes."

She kissed my neck. "I like doing it. Will you let me?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. You're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She kissed my neck again. "Come to bed now."

When I tried to pull my dress down, she stopped me. She made me walk in front of her with my dress lifted at my hips. She said she wanted to look at my ass while I moved. When we reached the living room and a thick rug, I almost stumbled on my high heels. She laughed and steadied me with her hand on my elbow. She led me along a short hallway, walking beside me with her hand on my ass and her fingers between my cheeks. The feel of her fingers there made my heart pound. I had never in my life been so turned on.

Once we were in her bedroom, she took me in her arms and kissed me, a passionate wet kiss, her tongue thrusting into my mouth. She held my face between her two hands as she worked her lips and tongue around and inside my mouth. I still had my dress at my hips. Her hand moved to my belly and then below that to my sex. With her tongue still in my mouth, she pushed her fingers inside my hole and churned them while her thumb vigorously rubbed my clit.

"Let yourself go," she said. "I want you to come."

How could I avoid it? I found myself pumping my hips against her hand. When the orgasm hit me, she held me steady as I cried out and trembled and cried out again. Again she kissed me, kept kissing my mouth and chin and the side of my neck until I calmed down.

She stepped back and smiled at me. "I enjoy doing you. Was it as good as it looked?"

"Completely wonderful."

"Good. I've a business call to make. Why don't you undress and rest on the bed awhile. I'll be back soon, maybe fifteen minutes." She touched my cheek, turned away and then stopped and looked at me again. "Keep the heels and stockings on, sweets. They make you look delicious." She turned and quickly left the room.

So there I was alone, more in her spell now than our first time together. I hadn't yet recovered from the strong orgasm I'd had in the hall. It was barely after nine o'clock and I knew there would be more sex before the evening ended. I slipped out of my dress and bra and draped them over a chair near a dressing table. Gail's bedroom was lovely, a large richly furnished room with framed posters of theatrical productions on the walls. As I lay on the bed in my heels and stockings and skimpy garter belt, I recalled that the last time I'd been on a bed dressed like this I'd been waiting for my husband on one of our anniversaries. I thought I'd entice him into a fantasy evening, but when he arrived home he'd already had too much to drink with his friends (or so he said) and he passed out on the sofa before he even had his clothes off.

The one unfortunate thing about my divorce was that I thought about my ex- husband and my stupid marriage too often.

But now, for a while at least, I could stop thinking about it. Now I had someone who thrilled me like no one else ever had. I yearned for Gail to return to me. I felt aroused again. I ran my fingernails up and down my torso, barely touching my skin. I took my breasts in my hands and kneaded them, tugged and twisted my nipples with my fingers. I flicked the tips with a fingernail and they immediately stiffened into hungry points. I finally gripped my nipples and squeezed them hard. The feeling was incredible--almost painful but not quite. I continued pinching my nipples. Why did the slight pain give me such pleasure? Risking the edge of pain had always been exquisitely pleasurable for me. I squeezed my nipples again, rolled them and pulled at them. Where was Gail? Why was her phone call taking so long? I spread my legs wider and slid both hands down to my sex. I tugged at the hairs bordering my lips. I found my clitoris with my fingertips, stroked the shaft and drew the hood back as if showing it to someone. I wondered about Gail's clitoris. When would she let me make love to her? I could feel my slit leaking. I imagined a wet patch forming on the duvet under my crotch. Would Gail be annoyed? Would she mind me doing this? Holding myself open, I teased my hard clit with a fingertip. Tingles of pleasure spread over my belly.

Suddenly I heard noise in the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and I quickly pulled my hands away from my sex and closed my legs.

Gail came into the room. She was completely naked. She walked over to the bed and smiled down at me. "I wasn't too long, was I?"

I shook my head. "Not at all, but I missed you."

"You look beautiful lying there like that."

I looked at her lean body, at her tiny breasts, her long nipples, her flat belly, the small dark triangle of hair that covered her sex. I wondered why she didn't shave her pubes. Wasn't that a rage these days? I wanted her so much I could not resist begging her.

"Let me lick you," I said.

She looked down at me and smiled. "Ready for it, are you?"

"Yes."

She climbed onto the bed and straddled me facing the headboard. When I looked up I could see her little breasts and dark nipples and flat belly. Then she lowered herself, eased her cunt down on my mouth.

"Easy does it," she said. "There's no rush."

I opened my mouth and sucked the wet sex pressing down on my face. I had my nose buried in her pubic hair, my chin already wet with her juices. Her sex engulfed me, the scent of it filling my nostrils. I found her clitoris, circled it with my tongue and sucked it between my lips. I closed my eyes, aware only of her sex pressed against my face. Her wet cunt. How marvelous that she was so wet for me. I focused on the juices, sucking them into my mouth, savoring them the way one would savor a fine wine. What finer wine was there than this? The musky scent of her cunt intoxicated me. I moved my mouth constantly, sliding my lips against her slick flesh, sucking at her hole, worshipping her core.

"Hold your face still," she said. "I'm going to ride you."

She started rocking her hips. Holding the headboard with her hands, she ground her cunt hard against my face. She rubbed her clitoris against my nose, then moved her clit to my mouth so I could suck it, then rubbed it on my nose again. I heard her moan as she pressed hard against my face, and I burned with happiness that I was giving her pleasure. That was what I wanted--to give her pleasure. Having her ride my face this way was so divine. My face was drenched with her juices, my eyes, my nose, my mouth, my chin. I bathed in it. I loved the way she had me pinned down, forcing me to pleasure her. I licked and sucked as I served her.

Suddenly she moaned. Her body stiffened and she started rocking on my face in a frenzy. I could barely breathe as she rapidly rubbed her crotch against my face.

"Suck it, suck my cunt!" she cried.

I sucked. I sucked everywhere, sucked everything as she pressed her sex down on my face. She groaned, her thighs trembling as she continuing rubbing herself against my mouth and nose.

Gradually her movements slowed, and finally she swung her leg over my head and she lay down on the bed beside me.

She turned and stroked my wet face. "Did you enjoy that?"

"It was marvelous."

Her fingertip circled the wetness around my mouth. "You don't mind me using you that way?"

"I love it."

"I thought you would. I thought that the first time I saw you. You have a look about you."

"Really?"

She lay back and chuckled. "Some of it, I think. Some women have the look. Anyway, what we just did is my favorite, and if you enjoyed it I'll find ways to keep you busy." She turned her head to look at me again. "What do you think of that?"

"I think you're wonderful."

So there it was, a new beginning for me. How long would it be before she tired of me and left me desolate? None of that mattered now because I knew I belonged to her.

She touched my mouth again. "Do you want more?"

I whispered, "Yes."

She smiled and rose and straddled me again. "More tongue this time," she said. "If you stiffen your tongue, I can feel it better."

1. Carried Away Ch. 03

During the following days and weeks it became obvious that I had a serious problem. I had fallen in love with a goddess so lovely she made me tremble. Just to be seated in her vicinity and watch her do anything at all was enough to keep me sizzling. I belonged to her and she knew it. Whatever I was before, I was now Gail's property to be disposed of as she wished.

Now three weeks had passed, and one day in the office Marsha guessed something had happened to me. She looked amused. "Rachel, you're in love with someone."

I blushed. "I've met someone, but maybe it won't last."

She laughed. "Tell me about him. Is he handsome?"

I brushed the question aside. If she thought my lover was a man, I wasn't ready yet to tell her the truth. Then she said:

"You're wearing high heels every day now. Is that because of him? Of course it is. Good for you, Rachel. You look sexy in heels."

I was happy she approved. Yes, the heels were for my lover. Gail liked me in three- or four-inch heels and they did make me feel sexy. I wanted to feel sexy all day for Gail.

After lunch, I sat in Marsha's office reviewing with her a proposal she would make at a client's offices that afternoon. As we discussed the last pages of the proposal, she noticed a stain on her blouse and said she would change it while I finished reading the proposal to her. She had a closet in the her office where she kept some spare clothes. I had seen her change shirts or blouses or even a dress a number of times. She was a lovely woman, attractive to look at, especially her large bust in a full bra, glimpses of fullness as she removed a blouse or shirt and slipped into something else. She was motherly and sexy at the same time. Could she tell my gaze was no longer neutral? My affair with Gail kept me so sexually primed, it was impossible to look at Marsha half dressed without feeling a buzz of desire.

Finally Marsha left for her meeting and I sat alone at my desk in the outer office. Nearly a hundred people were still working on the three floors occupied by the agency, but with Marsha gone I could relax awhile. I certainly needed to relax. I wondered if people noticed how edgy I'd been lately. My three weeks with Gail had so far been marvelous but also terribly unsettling. Gail could be sweet and seductive, but her sweetness never diminished her control of me. And control, after all, was what had brought us together--my need to be controlled by her and Gail's evident need to exercise that control. We were a match, but how long would it last and how much would I be hurt when it ended? I dreaded another rejection. My ex-husband's drinking had been a rejection of me, and before him and after him rejections by others had happened in different ways, always with the same ending--my despair.

I told myself I was a lost soul. I yearned for Gail's sweetness, but I yearned even more to be controlled by her.

Her whims governed me. She liked to fondle my breasts, to get my nipples erect and pinch them. We both understood that my nakedness in her presence while she was fully dressed was for the most part merely an announcement of my servitude--my willingness to serve her whims and pleasures. She liked my nipples to be erect, and when we were together it seemed they were always stiff with arousal, sometimes from the way she pinched them, or merely from her looking at my nakedness with lust in her eyes.

One evening, as we sat in her apartment, she explained to me that she was selfish, and that she did not do anything in half measure, that the result of our relationship would be that she would possess me completely.

"Will you be able to accept that?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "I've had women say yes before, and then sooner or later there's resistance and the bubble pops. When you chew bubble gum and blow a bubble and the bubble pops, it usually pops all over your face. I don't like to have bubbles pop in my face. Do you understand me, sweets?"

"Yes."

I was naked as usual, sitting naked except for my shoes while she was still dressed. She looked at my legs and suddenly changed the subject. "You have sexy legs. Are those new shoes?"

"No, I've had these awhile." They were the black high-heeled pumps that I'd worn to work, but my pantyhose were on a chair in the guest room and my legs were now bare.

She smiled again. "Pretty shoes. Stand up, sweetie."

I rose to my feet and stood there waiting. I could never predict what she wanted. What she wanted always depended on her mood of the moment. Now her mood involved my backside, since she made me turn so she could look at it. I felt her palms stroking my cheeks.

"Nice," she said. "Your body is nicer than you think."

"My bum is too big."

She laughed and pinched my right buttock. "Don't be silly, I love your ass. Didn't I tell you that?"

"Yes."

"You have a good solid ass."

I blushed as I felt her pry my cheeks apart. I knew what she was looking at--and of course it thrilled me. No one had ever looked at me there, not like this. She owned me. When I was with Gail, the world around me seemed totally and completely forgotten and beyond all caring as the focus of my existence was my serving her and having her look at the intimacies of my body.

Was it a love relationship? I wasn't certain. I was too inexperienced with anyone like Gail. We hardly ever pleasured each other at the same time, which I thought only fitting since I understood that her pleasure was more important than my pleasure, and in fact my own pleasure depended on her pleasure. That was weird because she was the first person in my life who made me feel that way.

When we were in bed, I loved it when she lay on top of me between my thighs, her strap-on cock grinding into me as I clutched the cheeks of her ass. She had several cocks, but she used only one with me after I told her it resembled my ex- husband's penis. Maybe she wanted to remind me that she was a better lover than my ex-husband. I wasn't happy about being reminded of him, but I liked the cock because it was hers.

When she used the cock, she would sometimes first take me from behind with her fingers, two fingers curled inside my vagina and her thumb stretching my anus. I became used to it. I suppose you can get used to anything provided it doesn't hurt. Her thumb never hurt me and I did like it in there. She knew I liked it. She seemed to know everything about me.

Sometimes she took me with her fingers while we stood beside each other in front of a full-length mirror. She looked so angular and lean next to me, she made me feel plump. But except for my ass I was more slender than plump. When she took me with her fingers that way, she would have her hand behind me and between my cheeks with her fingers socked into my vagina and her thumb in my anus. She knew how to do it. She would keep at it until I had an orgasm in front of the mirror.

What I waited for, desperate to have it, was an invitation to move in with her. But during those first three weeks, the invitation never came.

That afternoon, the afternoon that Marsha went off to make a proposal to a prospective client, Gail telephoned me. She wanted me to visit her that evening.

"Can you make it?"

"Yes of course."

"All right, come here right after work and we'll order an early Chinese dinner. I'm not cooking. I've had a nasty day and you can help me relax."

Helping her relax meant sex, and as usual I was thrilled at the prospect of a few hours with her. At least she wasn't tired of me yet. I was certain that would happen eventually, but so far she still wanted me.

When I arrived at Gail's apartment, I could see she'd had a nasty day.

"I hate Wall Street," she said. "It's nothing but a barrel of wriggling worms."

"Would it be possible for me to use your shower?"

She waved a hand at me. "Go on."

"You don't mind?"

"I said go on."

After a grimy day, I badly needed a shower. I rushed through it to avoid irritating her. When I hurried back to find my purse, I had nothing but a towel wrapped around my body.

Gail scowled at me. "Get rid of the towel, sweetie. I told you I want you naked when you're here."

I dropped the towel. "I just needed my purse."

As I stood naked, she came in front of me, took hold of my right breast with her left hand and slid her right hand over my belly and then down to my sex. Her fingers spread my labia open and slid into my vagina.

"Did you think about me today?"

I blushed. "Yes. I always think about you."

Her fingers felt wonderful inside me. When she saw that I was responding, she started rubbing my clitoris with her thumb. I closed my eyes and spread my legs a bit. I wanted to come and it would happen soon. When I opened my eyes again, I found her gaze fixed on me. She kept her eyes on my face as I came, watching every instant of my orgasm. I was used to it. She often did it to me that way, watching me as if she could read every thought and feeling in my mind.

After that she said I should remain where I was and she left me in the living room, went somewhere and returned holding a pair of shoes and some stockings.

"Wear these," she said.

The shoes were red high-heeled pumps, the stockings opaque black with elastic red tops. I took the stockings and shoes and my purse and returned to the bathroom to do my face and dress for her.

I was certain the red color would make me look like some whore in a Degas painting. Should I be thrilled or dismayed? But if I was a whore, I was Gail's whore. I sat down on the commode and put on the stockings and shoes. The shoes were a perfect fit and more comfortable than I expected. I put on some light makeup and painted my lips.

When I returned to living room, I found Gail on the sofa reading a magazine. She put the magazine down and looked me. She seemed pleased. "Yes, that's nice," she said.

She told me to walk. She made me walk around in front of her to display myself. Did the red shoes and black stockings involve some fantasy she had? She looked so elegant sitting there in white silk trousers and a black shirt with silver cuff links. Exhibiting my body to her aroused me tremendously. I hoped she would make love to me soon, but instead I had to keep walking.

Finally she told me to stop walking and come close to her. She ran her hands over my thighs and laughed when she looked up at my face. "You look like a hungry little animal," she said. She slid her hand upward between my thighs, fingered my sex and pinched my labia. She wiped her wet fingers on my belly and pushed me away. "I'll order dinner," she said.

So I set the dinner table for us, put out the plates and cutlery and napkins. I felt like a maid, but without a maid's uniform

When the food arrived, Gail took the package at the door, then brought the food into the kitchen and said she had some calls to make and would be in her office. Would I mind getting our meal ready? She turned and left me. I felt no resentment. I was there of my own choosing, wasn't I? I told myself I'd be silly to resent her using me when I'd offered to be used and wanted it. Having her use me like this actually thrilled me: it meant she needed me. She was a busy woman, doing whatever she did in her career. I had only a vague idea of what managing money meant, but it certainly kept her busy. Whatever I did for her was of help to her. During the day I assisted Marsha and now in the evening I was assisting Gail. That at the moment I wore no clothes and looked like a Degas whore seemed irrelevant. I would rather be naked with Gail than not be with Gail at all, and when I was naked and Gail looked at me with lust in her eyes, everything became justified.

So naked as I was, wearing only stockings and heels, I worked in the kitchen while Gail did her work in her office. I brought the food to the dinner table and covered the dishes to keep the food warm. Then I went to Gail's office to announce that dinner was ready. She was talking into a cell phone, but she sat on the couch and not behind her desk. When she saw me standing at the doorway, she made a signal with her hand that she wanted me to stand in front of her. When I did that, she ran her fingers through my pubic hair as she talked into the phone. Her touch aroused me tremendously and I had to steady myself to avoid trembling. When she lowered her fingers to my sex, I willingly moved my legs apart enough to make myself available to her.

Then her hand pulled at my arm, urging me downward. She wanted me on my knees. When I was down on my knees in front of her, while still holding the phone in her left hand, she pointed at her shoes. She wanted her shoes off. So I removed her shoes, the supple Italian black loafers she always wore. Then she started undoing her belt with her right hand. I shifted forward on my knees to help her, and together we succeeded in tugging her trousers and panties down her thighs and off her legs. Now she wore only beige hold-up stockings below her waist.

I had no hesitation. I knew what she wanted and I was thrilled to give it to her. Giving her this was what I thought about whenever we were apart and whenever we were together. She knew it; she knew whatever there was to know about me.

The phone still in her left hand and at her left ear, she spread her thighs wide. At once I leaned forward and started kissing the insides of her thighs above her stockings, wet kisses on the soft skin as I worked my way upward. She put her hand on my head at the moment I finally buried my face in her sex.

Gail continuing talking into the telephone. I had no idea who she was talking to. Was it a man or a woman? She lifted her right leg, planted her foot on the edge of the seat and swung her knee to the right to give me all the access I needed.

I had only a single focus. My eyes closed, I communed with her cunt. I sucked, nibbled, licked, sometimes gently chewing and pulling at her fleshy labia with my lips and teeth the way I'd learned gave her the most obvious pleasure. I was Gail's Degas whore and I'd learned whatever I needed to know to give her the pleasure she wanted.

She finally finished the telephone call, snapped the phone shut and placed it on the couch beside her. Using both hands, she pulled my face more firmly into her sex, the usual signal for me to use my nose and mouth to vigorously rub her clitoris until she shuddered through an orgasm. Her climaxes were hardly ever vocal, usually a physical shuddering from head to toe with her eyes tightly shut.

I held her ass as she came, the only time I felt free to do it. I held her cheeks in my hands as my face pressed against her wet sex, my body bent like the body of a bent supplicant before a goddess.

That's what I was--a supplicant. She allowed me to remain like that awhile, and I took advantage of her benevolence to lick and suck as much of her juices as I could, gathering her fluids in my mouth as though I were gathering the nectar of some exotic fruit.

But it didn't last. She finally pushed me away. "Enough, sweetie. You're always so hungry for it."

I blushed and mumbled something about our dinner. "It's getting cold."

"Yes, I know, darling. Stand up and let me look at you in those pretty stockings again."

I rose and stood before her. She seemed please with me. I no longer blushed when she inspected me this way. I was used to it now, accustomed to her appraisal, her whims, her judgments. I belonged to her and she could do as she wished with me.

She ran her hands over my hips, and down my thighs, and then over my belly. She danced her fingers over my labia, then pulled her hands away. "Open it," she said.

The way she said it and the way she looked at me made me feel as though I had a precious flower down there that she merely wanted to look at more closely. But of course few things were more intimate than this. I blushed as I opened myself with my fingers, peeled my labia open to expose my hole, my core, the leaking entrance that hungered for her fingers.

She studied it a moment, then lifted her eyes to mine and stroked my face with her fingertips. "Excited?"

"I love you."

"And I love you too. Let's have our dinner and then take care of this little pussy. If you want to clean up, I'll meet you at the table."

I hurried to the bathroom to wash my face and repaint my lips. I decided to use a bright red shade. I usually thought the bright red color garish, but this time the shade was an exact match for my red shoes and the red tops of my black stockings. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror attached to the bathroom door. I liked the way I looked. I turned sideways to look at my bum and I liked the way that looked too. Gail had made me feel that every inch of my body was sexual and desirable.

At the dinner table, I sat naked while Gail wore a knee-length blue silk robe that made her look completely alluring. As we ate our dinner, her eyes kept returning to my naked breasts, and then finally she said, "Would you mind your nipples pierced? I think I'd like it."

I nodded. "Yes, if you want it."

"I know someone who's good at it. Maybe I'll take you there tomorrow. Would you like rings or barbells?"

"Whatever you like."

"Barbells, then. Silver little barbells to give you a precious look."

After dinner, Gail returned to her office while I cleaned up the table. I carried the dishes into the kitchen, then stowed them in the dishwasher and started the machine. I left the kitchen and went to the bathroom to wash up. When I came out of the bathroom, I found Gail standing near the bed wearing a strap-on.

She smiled at me. "I can't look at you without wanting to fuck you."

I blushed. As usual, her lust thrilled me. She came to me, took me in her arms and tongued my earlobe. She nipped my ear with her teeth and said she was too tired to make love all night. "We'll make up for it another time." Then she gently pushed at my shoulders and I went to my knees and took her cock in my mouth.

I always loved sucking it, loved it because it was hers and because it obviously excited her to watch my mouth on it. I held the base of it with my hands and sucked at the tip. The head was shaped like a glans. What was reality? This was a cock in my mouth, more real to me than my ex-husband's cock had ever been, more real to me because I adored the woman who had the cock more than I had ever adored any man.

Gail finally made me stop sucking the cock. She urged me onto the bed. I lay down on my back with my legs raised and open. She came to me on her knees, supported herself with her left arm and used her right hand to guide the cock into my vagina. When she had the tip inside, she thrust forward and buried her cock in me. When she lay on me, I spread my thighs and then closed them around her churning hips.

She fucked me like a man would, which made it all the more exciting for me. I wanted her thrusting inside me. I wanted her force, the possession by her cock as it vigorously slid in and out of my hole.

Then she wanted another position. As usual, she was aggressive, pulling at my body to make me kneel on the bed with my hips raised. She kissed the small of my back as her palms roamed over my ass.

"Your ass is so hot," she said.

The words thrilled me. How wonderful it was to have some part of me turn her on like that. I swayed my hips from side to side to show her how much I loved her words.

She entered me. In this position I could feel every inch of it, the cock pushing in and stretching me the most at its base, then pulling out and tickling the opening before pushing in again.

While she fucked me, she wanted details about my marriage, what I had done sexually with my husband, what I liked and what I disliked in bed with him. This was the first time she had ever asked about him. But in the throes of her fucking me, I could barely find the memories she wanted. She chuckled at my efforts. As she worked a finger into my anus, she leaned over me and breathed into my ear: "I'm going to take you here next time. Will you be ready for me?"

"You know I'm yours."

"Say it. Tell me you want me here."

"I want you in my ass."

She straightened up behind me, took hold of my hips with both hands and started fucking my cunt with force. When she reached under me and stroked my clit with her fingers I came quickly. She continued holding me, fucking herself into me until her own orgasm arrived.

Later, I rested my head in her lap in the afterglow of our lovemaking. This was a weekday and it was time for me to leave. I left the bed and called a taxi. Gail came to the door and kissed me. "Goodnight, sweets"

At home, in the shower, I masturbated and wondered if and when Gail would ask me to move in and live with her. Would it ever happen? I longed to live with her and be her wife.

End