This is an extract from ‘The Shopping Trip’ by Salvaje Dominado. The full story, which features female submission and light, consensual BDSM can be accessed at: http://www.lulu.com/content/205151

The Shopping Trip

1st Encounter

It was a drizzly November day as Gregory pulled into the out of town shopping centre on his way home. Now he had to fend for himself, the purpose of his usual Thursday visit was to grab something for dinner that night; and buy stuff for over the weekend. It was nothing more exciting than that and he certainly didn’t anticipate the events that were to unfold that evening, or in the weeks to come.

Sex was the last thing on Greg’s mind and since his divorce, what with his work and other social commitments; Greg had almost come to terms with what he hoped was his temporary celibacy. So, as he arrived tired at the end of the day and parked his car, the thought that the evening might end in a sexual encounter didn’t even enter his head.

Even if it had, he wouldn’t have dared imagine it would be with a woman who would submit to him so freely; and happily let him use her in accordance with his preferences. Although he had always done what he could to make sure his wife had an orgasm when they were together, it had been the manner in which he achieved it which had been his undoing. She had half-willingly submitted to being tethered, whether to the bed or elsewhere; but his determination to enjoy every orifice she possessed was more than the straight-laced Cynthia had been willing to accept and she’d requested a divorce.

Locking his new BMW coupι and not bothering with his coat for the short walk to the supermarket entrance; Greg pulled his jacket together against the chill wind. As he approached the entrance, one of the staff tidying trolleys pushed a small trolley towards Greg who nodded his thanks. Greg was not only thankful but relieved as he passed through the ‘air curtain’ which protected the warm inside of the store from the cold outside.

If he had been able to recall what had been in his mind at that precise moment as he straightened his jacket, it would have been nothing more exciting than what to have for dinner … preferably something he could easily heat up in the microwave … a bachelor’s special. ‘Chinese or Indian?’ he wondered, ‘I couldn’t face another pizza!’

And it was at that moment that Greg stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Good God!’ he muttered under his breath as he noticed her for the first time, pushing her trolley in front of him down the first isle. She was quite slim, size ten or twelve Greg guessed and about five feet nine tall: that is she would have been about five feet nine if it hadn’t been for the heels which must have brought her up to almost six feet tall.

Possibly in her late thirties, she wasn’t particularly pretty but, as she stopped to examine something and turned sideways on to Greg; he noticed she had the sort of handsome appearance some mature women were blessed with, that really appealed to him. Her makeup was immaculate and her general appearance suggested a woman who didn’t have to worry about the extent of her clothes budget: everything she wore was subtly expensive!

She was dressed just the right side of raunchy to still be respectable and in clothes just about as fashionable as she could get away with at her age; and when she stopped, several yards behind, Greg did so too. Trying not to stare noticeably, Greg could make out she was wearing a clinging, black top (the top of a stretch body ?) under a shiny and close fitting red leather jacket. The jacket was styled like a biker’s jacket, but much more feminine; and as she moved it creased as though it was as soft as butter.

Greg’s wife had had expensive tastes in clothes and he suspected that inside the collar of her jacket, the label would read something along the lines of ‘Chanel’ or possibly ‘Loewe’. But that wasn’t what was the centre of Greg’s attention, for Greg’s eyes were riveted on two of her assets, now probably slightly fuller than they had been in the first flush of her womanhood, barely concealed by a pair of close-fitting slacks.

Greg was now sure he was staring but managed to look away in time, or so he thought, just as she turned and looked in his direction. He hadn’t been quite quick enough however and raising an eyebrow, she pursed her lips as she detected his interest; before turning on her precarious heels and pushing her trolley forward.

Greg had been in a sexual wilderness for the last couple of months since the divorce … well if the truth be known, and for about eighteen months prior to the divorce coming through. He took no pleasure from ‘playing with himself’ and apart from a short series of dates; he hadn’t had any intimate female companionship since the break-up of his marriage. The woman was starting to get to him … he wasn’t erect as such ... but he felt his pants starting to restrict the beginnings of one.

Looking up he realised she’d moved off. ‘Good God!’ he muttered again as he watched the twin globes undulate, barely constrained by the thin fabric that covered them, as she walked off down the isle. Self-consciously, Greg reached down to adjust himself inside his pants and hoping no-one had noticed what he was doing, turned into a cross isle, abandoning the vision which he found so alluring … after all, he didn’t want to end up being accused of stalking the woman!

Greg spent the next five minutes walking disconsolately up and down the refrigerated displays of ‘ready meals’, for once in his life indecisive; as the original choice between Chinese and Indian seemed to have grown to include Italian and Thai as well. He just couldn’t get the thought of that wonderful arse out of his mind.

Reaching back into the chilled display, to again replace a dish he’d rejected; Greg realised that the owner of those delectable buttocks was standing next to him, reaching into the same cabinet in fact. Suddenly their eyes made contact. ‘Sorry!’ they chimed in unison, in that particularly English way. Greg made to get out of her way. His sudden nervousness however, only resulted in him getting more in her way than before. ‘Sorry!’ he said again in embarrassment, this time stepping back to give her sole access to the chilled cabinet.

Bending over, she reached right into the cabinet, picking up a package from the back of the display. ‘Why didn’t she take one from the front?’ Greg wondered momentarily, before his attention was drawn to the seat of her pants; where the fabric, now stretched taught, partly divided the cheeks of her arse. ‘Phew!’ he exclaimed audibly without realising it.

Straightening, the woman turned to face him. ‘There’s a problem?’ she enquired. Her tones were modulated, sophisticated and reflected a privileged upbringing. Suddenly Greg felt self-conscious and became aware of his cheeks colouring. ‘I … It’s … Oh God’, he stammered before managing to say, ‘It’s just that you have an adorable derriθre!’ suddenly realising he sounded remarkably like Hugh Grant in doing so.

She cocked an eyebrow, but her eyes were smiling. ‘Adorable?’ came her response. ‘Absolutely adorable!’ Greg exclaimed, before babbling nervously on, ‘Not just stroke-able but highly kissable as well!’ Suddenly there was hardness in her eyes. ‘So kind!’ she replied, but now she was clearly unsure whether this was a spontaneous reaction on his part or whether he was some sort of pervert who regularly accosted women to compliment them on their backsides.

‘I’m sorry’, continued Greg, now clearly on the back foot, ‘I know it’s a bit personal and I won’t pester you again but I just had to tell you because it’s just so …’ His voice tailed off, now sure he’d said too much. She finished his sentence for him ‘Adorable?’ she said putting the chilled package in her trolley.

Greg blushing like a teenager, nodded. Again she cocked up one eyebrow and a half smile appeared on her lips; before she turned back to her trolley and started to push it away from him. Greg, now erect inside his pants, watched her as she pushed her trolley down the isle … well, he watched part of her as she pushed her trolley down the isle.

Reaching the end she had to turn and with her trolley now half full; her buttocks strained against the fabric of her pants, with the effort required to push the trolley round the corner whilst not losing her footing on the tiled floor. Looking sideways, she caught him watching her … and smiled. Greg’s heart skipped a beat. Further down his manhood throbbed in need.

Some minutes later, Greg realised they were walking in opposite directions down the same isle, towards one another. As they passed one another, apart from an almost imperceptible sideways glance she didn’t acknowledge his presence at all, but just carried on walking. Greg waited a few seconds before the urge to turn and watch her became too strong. ‘God God!’ be hissed one more time as he watched her buttocks tense and sway under the stretchy fabric. Surely no woman’s hips swayed that much … not even on 3” heels … unless she was deliberately …

The sight left him dazed … unable to concentrate on what he was doing and he wandered aimlessly round the store; as much to give his erection time to subside before checking out as anything else. Greg was aware of a trolley passing close by him and then suddenly she was standing next to him. Letting go of the trolley she put her hands on her hips, causing her jacket to part; and looked him straight in the eye.

She may have been looking him in the eye, but Greg’s attention was drawn to the modestly sized breasts and prominent nipples showing through the clinging material of her top. She waited, hands on hips, until he looked up. Turning away from him, she leant over an open tipped freezer cabinet, looked over her shoulder and with a half smile on her lips murmured, ‘It’s a bit public for a kiss, but you can stroke it if you like!’

This is an extract from ‘The Shopping Trip’ by Salvaje Dominado. The full story, which features female submission and light, consensual BDSM can be accessed at: http://www.lulu.com/content/205151

Chapter 2: The first caress

Turning away from him, she leant over an open tipped freezer cabinet, looked over her shoulder and with a half smile on her lips murmured, ‘It’s a bit public for a kiss, but you can stroke it if you like!’

The moons of her arse were at their fullest possible prominence and for a moment Greg couldn’t believe this was happening. Trembling with anticipation and taking a hurried look in either direction to make sure no-one was watching; he reached down and cupped her left buttock in his right hand. When she didn’t object, he ran his hand down to the crease under her buttock, feeling her warmth through the thin fabric of her tight pants. When she still didn’t object, he ran his hand back up over her buttock; using the tip of his index finger to trace the seam which ran up the crease between her delightful buttocks.

Suddenly she straightened up and Greg fully expected her to object at his testing the bounds of intimacy she would permit – especially in a public place. But turning to face him she smiled, a piece of frozen lamb in her hands; and he stepped aside to allow her to put it in her trolley. Fully anticipating this was certain to be the end of their encounter, Greg was surprised when she gripped the sides of her trolley and flexed the muscles of her arse. It was as though it was pouting at him and there was no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing.

Turning she stepped forward, closing the distance between them and rested her hands on his shoulders. ‘The other one’s just as nice!’ she murmured. Reaching round behind her, this time from the left, he cupped her other buttock with his hand. ‘So my fat arse turns you on, does it?’ she asked, reaching behind herself to place her hand over his. Greg stroked the warm and pliant globe and her hand remained over his, pushing it against her flesh. ‘It’s not fat’, he managed to stammer, before swallowing hard and finishing with, ‘and yes, it’s definitely turning me on!’

Greg could feel himself, erect and throbbing inside his boxer shorts. Reaching further round Greg managed to insinuate his finger fully into the crease between her buttocks and pushed upwards, thus drawing her in to him. Compliant, she allowed him to handle her and half-closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Instinctively he reached down between them with his free hand and cupped her prominent mound. With his middle finger, he sought out the crease between her lips; and finding it, pressed harder. He sensed her shuffle her feet to allow him access. Even through the double thickness of fabric Greg located the opening to her vulva.

Her breathing was becoming irregular. Greg ran his finger slowly up the joining of her lips and reaching the top, pressed firmly. Her coarse breathing stopped and then she gasped out loud. Suddenly, Greg was struggling to hold her weight and stop her from falling; as one of her feet slid sideways out from under her and she slumped fully against his chest.

Supporting her with his hands under her elbows, Greg waited while she recovered, now leaning awkwardly, lower against his chest. Looking down he saw one of her stiletto-heeled shoes lying on its side on the tiled floor, next to her stocking clad foot.

Finally she stopped trembling and her breathing returned to normal. ‘You OK?’ he murmured in her ear. Without looking up she responded by nodding, then she did look up into his eyes and smiled; the flush of orgasm still evident on her neck and chest. Bending down, Greg recovered the shoe and kneeling, guided her foot back into it. As he stood to rejoin her, she swayed again looking as though she was about to collapse.

Greg grasped her firmly as she took several deep breaths, before opening her eyes. Now they were, once more, almost eye to eye. ‘I’m sorry’, she said with a distinct twinkle in her eye, ‘my legs are still a bit wobbly’. Greg pulled her close, feeling the warmth of her body though his shirt; and also aware of her modest breasts pressing against his chest.

An elderly couple stopped alongside them looking concerned. ‘Is she all right mate?’ asked the old boy. She responded by burying her face in his chest and Greg could feel her trembling as she fought to keep her giggling silent. Playing the role of the gallant husband, Greg looked towards the old chap and smiled, saying ‘I’m sure she’ll be all right in a minute, thank you’. Suitably reassured the couple smiled knowingly (if only they had known!) and continued on their way.

After a few moments, Greg muttered, ‘It’s OK, they’ve gone!’ Looking up she beamed at him and allowed him to kiss her full on the lips; but then her confidence seemed to desert her and she looked sheepishly at him. ‘What must you think if me?’ she started, ‘Doing it in a supermarket in full view of everyone!’ ‘We haven’t done it yet’, he corrected her, pulling her closer and kissing her again on the lips, before going on, ‘And I don’t even know your name.’

‘Annabel’, she replied smiling. Greg smiled back: with an accent like that he had just known she would be called something like Annabel – a real English rose! ‘And you are?’ enquired Annabel when Greg didn’t immediately respond in kind, prompting him to do so. The isle suddenly seemed busier, but the couple stayed locked in each other’s arms at its centre. The shop’s other customers simply had to negotiate their trolleys round them as they continued their intimate conversation.

‘How long has it been since your last orgasm?’ asked Greg. The unthinking bluntness for which he was renowned at work didn’t seem to phase her at all though. ‘On my own, not long; but I can’t remember the last time with someone else’ she replied, smiling like the cat who’d just got the cream.

‘You’re not married then?’ asked Greg hopefully. ‘Oh I’m married all right’ replied Annabel sighing heavily, before continuing, ’Unfortunately my husband’s also married to the European Central Bank where he spends five days each week.’  Again she sighed before almost whispering, ‘And then there’s the small matter of fucking Dagmar, his tri-lingual, German PA!’

The last words were spoken with a vehemence which left Greg in no doubt as to what was going on; but he was still struck by how sophisticated Annabel had managed to make the base word ‘fucking’ sound. Briefly his mind skipped into it’s working ‘Project Manager’ mode … Annabel’s husband spent five days a week in Germany … today was Thursday … and her husband would probably not finish work until about 3pm tomorrow. ‘Had I better make sure you get home OK?’ came his apparently chivalrous suggestion. ‘No, you’d better come home with me’, replied Annabel looking him straight in the eye, ‘and finish what you’ve started!’

‘Have you got much shopping left to do?’ Greg casually enquired. Annabel shrugged her shoulders in that ‘whatever’ sort of way. ‘It will keep’ came her reply and it was evident that to her other things were now much more important than shopping. Greg smiled, ‘Good! Let’s get to the check-outs then!’ Annabel waited while he turned his trolley round, then stood expecting him to lead them to the front of the store; but Greg waved her forwards. ‘You go first!’, he insisted, looking pointedly at her bum.

The cheeks of Annabel’s face coloured slightly. Smirking, she enquired, ‘Does it fascinate you that much?’ Reaching down and firmly clasping one cheek in his strong racquet hand, Greg leant forward until his lips nearly touched her ear and whispered, ‘Oh yes and I’m going to do some very indecent things with it, once I get you home!’ Smiling and blushing the same time, Annabel turned away and with very exaggerated swaying of the hips, led them towards the front of the store.

At the front of the store they joined the queues for adjacent check-outs and spent the whole time exchanging knowing looks across the heads of the cashiers; whilst mindlessly packing their respective purchases. Then it was on to the gas station and having refilled their cars, Annabel led the way to her house. At first Greg wondered whether she would ever fully exploit the potential of her Mercedes SL500; but decided, without a hint of resentment, that if he could ever afford one, he’d buy one too – so why not?

Annabel led Greg through twisty country lanes up onto the Ridgeway and eventually slowed indicating left and turned onto a gravel drive. And what a drive it proved to be, with mature English oak trees to either side; it led down to a house that Greg guessed must have been built at the end of the nineteenth century – long before ‘new money’ moved into the area.

‘Phew!’ Greg exclaimed as shoes crunching on the gravel, he surveyed the front of the house. He couldn’t resist asking, ‘Does the European Central Bank bankroll this as well as the Common Agricultural Policy?’ Annabel wrinkled her nose. ‘Ernst earns a hefty salary at the bank, but my money paid for this!’ she asserted emphatically.

Slipping a key into the distinctive Banham lock plate, Annabel opened the door and ushered Greg into the hallway which was about the size of the average double garage. Closing the door behind him, Annabel walked past Greg as he surveyed the oak staircase and stood at its foot. Seeing she had his attention, Annabel clasped her hands together. ‘Right!’ she called out, almost like a Sergeant major on parade; but as she walked towards him, dropping her hands to her hips and thrusting out her modest bosom, Annabel enquired in a voice like liquid silk, ‘Now, where were we?’

Chapter 3: Indecent things

But as she walked towards him, Annabel enquired in a voice like liquid silk, ‘Now, where were we?’

Greg watched her approach with her hands on her hips, which had the effect of holding the sides of her jacket back from her nipples, which threatened to pierce the fabric of her top. Shopping lay forgotten in cars as she gave herself up to his first kiss, which seemed to go on and on; and as it did so, she ground herself against his thigh.

Finally they came up for air and Greg tenderly used his handkerchief to wipe off some lipstick which had smeared onto her cheek. ‘Can I help you with your jacket?’ Greg asked. Annabel thanked him as she turned away and he slid his hands under the lapels. As he lifted it from her shoulders, she adjusted her position so he could slide the sleeves down her arms. He could now see her stretch top was sleeveless, virtually backless and that what back there was, was just as sheer as the front.

Annabel started to turn back towards him, but Greg gripped her by the shoulder and speaking quietly but firmly instructed her, ‘No! You stay exactly where you are!’ Obediently Annabel remained facing the foot of the stairs as Greg walked over the pegs on the wall. Looking down, he noticed the ‘Loewe’ label inside the jacket – so he’d been right. The company started in 1846 in Madrid had a deserved reputation for producing garments in the highest quality hide; and rubbing the skin between his fingers confirmed it was as soft as butter.

Greg couldn’t resist lifting the garment to his nose and taking a sniff. As he suspected, it smelt of a heady mixture of expensive leather combined with extremely expensive perfume. ‘You have a thing for leather?’ she asked coyly. ‘Tread carefully!’ he warned himself, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. ‘I do when it’s of this sort of quality’, he replied and seeing her wrinkle her nose a bit, quickly added, smiling, ‘and when it smells of you!’ This brought a smile to her face and suddenly she was excitedly recalling her visit to Selfridges department store in London’s West End and seeing Loewe garments for the first time.

She carried on rapidly talking until he silenced her by bringing his hand up to her lips. She smiled nervously, her pert breasts heaving within the tight top that constrained them. Stepping behind her Greg leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the side of her neck. In response, Annabel allowed herself to lean back against his chest and the cheeks of what he had referred to as her derriθre made contact with his groin. Now he was sure she knew he was hard for her.

Grasping her hips he held her close, pressing himself into her soft flesh. ‘Is this private enough to kiss your cheeks?’ he ventured. Naively she turned her head sideways, expecting him next to kiss her face. ‘I wasn’t referring to those cheeks’, he said making it obvious what he meant. Instantly a blush rose up the cheek he could see when she realised his intention and opened her eyes.

‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’ she asked, almost in a whisper. Reaching around her slender body he took hold of her arms, placing her forearms on the top of the post at the bottom of the stairs, and kissing her once more on the side of the neck, murmured ‘Oh yes. Remember, I said I was going to do some very indecent things with it once I got you home.’

Feeling his hands glide down to her hips as he knelt behind her, she leant forward, feeling the fabric of her pants tighten over her backside, the seam digging in between her buttocks. As she rested her face on her crossed forearms, she straightened her legs and thrust out her buttocks; waiting for what she anticipated would be the first worshipping touch of his lips.

Kneeling behind her, Greg looked up at the twin moons before him; the shiny black fabric of her pants stretched taught over them. Placing his hands on either side of her hips, he leant forward and planted a kiss, first on the left cheek and then on the right. A frisson passed up her thighs as his hand delved between her legs and in response she parted her legs to allow him access. Then he ran his thumbs up from the crease below her buttocks, along either side of the seam between her cheeks.

Greg was rewarded by the sound of her groaning softly. Planting another kiss, this time on the underside of each cheek prompted another soft moan from Annabel. ‘You OK with this?’ he whispered. ‘Hmmmm’, she confirmed before chuckling quietly and adding, ‘I’ve never thought of my arse as an object of desire!’ From where he knelt, Greg could smell her arousal so bending down still further, he craned his head forward and planted a kiss on the soft tissue between her legs; prompting Annabel to moan quietly.

Standing behind her, again Greg pushed his erection into the crease between her buttocks; before running his hand round to her front and cupping her mons. Feeling the heat under his hand Greg grasped her ear lobe between his teeth and pulled on it, before reminding her, ‘Some very indecent things, indeed!’

A sharp slap under her buttocks elicited a sharp ‘Ouch!’ from Annabel who turned to face him as though about to protest. ‘If you don’t want another one … get up those stairs!’ he ordered her. Her face broke into a smile and then she giggled before turning on her heels and making for the stairs. Greg followed her, watching in delight as her buttocks stretched the fabric of the seat of her pants, first one way, then the other as she negotiated the stairs; still wearing her high-heeled shoes. ‘Some very indecent things, indeed!’ Greg muttered as he followed her.

Greg’s delight, not to mention his erection, grew as he followed Annabel up the stairs. He caught her up at the bedroom door and clasped her by the waist, pulling her back against him. Reaching around her, he unfastened the waistband of her pants and pulled down the zipper. For her part, Annabel co-operated, kicking off her shoes and then stepping out of the legs as Greg bunched the pants round her ankles.

Her buttocks were now completely bare as from the back, because as Greg had suspected, her knickers were no more than a lace edged thong which disappeared between the cheeks of her arse and down between her legs. She held onto the door frame for support and sighed quietly as she felt his nose make contact and then dive up between her cheeks. Thrusting her arse backwards gave him freer access and she moaned as his lips made contact with the tender flesh between her legs; now protected by only a single thickness of lace. Her moan was more of a groan as she felt the wet tip of his tongue pass over that same piece of lace.

Still hanging onto the door frame for support, Annabel allowed him to unceremoniously pull off the thong, twitching as the part buried between the lips of her vulva sprang free. Then Greg propelled her across the room in her bare feet with only the virtually backless body for cover; before twirling her round and almost throwing her backwards onto the bed. Annabel propped herself up on one elbow and watched as Greg rapidly tore his clothing off until he stood, with his erection throbbing before him.

She watched mesmerised as he took a packet of condoms from his wallet and slowly rolled one down his erection. Then he was on her like a beast, such was his passion; and Annabel allowed him to manhandle her, indeed welcomed the rough treatment and didn’t object when he rolled her onto her stomach and knelt astride her. Feeling the tip of his erection pass into the fold between her buttocks, she tried to lift up to facilitate his entry; but Greg had other ideas and pushed her back into the bed as he insinuated himself between her cheeks.

As the tip of his rubber sheathed cock butted up against her secret opening and started to push, she panicked trying to struggle out from beneath him. Greg withdrew slightly and tried to reassure her, ‘I’ll be as gentle as I can.’ ‘Let me get something’, she whispered and he rolled over allowing her to get off the bed and pad over to the en-suite. When she reappeared, she held a tube of lubricating gel in one hand – something she’d come to find indispensable when she played with her new toy, her largest to date, during Ernst’s frequent absences – and even when the self-centred bastard was home if it came to it.

Walking back over to Greg, she handed him the tube of gel and smiled nervously. ‘I’ve never done this before’, she said, you will …’ her voice tailed off. ‘Be gentle’, Greg confirmed, patting the bed beside him. She lay down facing him and after a reassuring cuddle Greg whispered to her to turn over. Blushing Annabel complied, lying with her back to him. She shivered once as Greg’s finger, probing between her buttocks, anointed the ring of muscle he located; and then shivered again as it returned, carrying more gel and started to probe her secret opening.

Annabel lay quietly as she waited for him to begin, lifting her head to allow him to slide his arm underneath it and then resting it in the crook of his arm. Greg used his free hand to hold the tip of his erection and then very slowly started to increase the pressure. As he felt the tip starting to inch its way inside her, he sensed her tense up and waited; bringing his hand round and running it over her stomach before pulling her closer to him.

‘Try not to panic!’ he whispered in her ear. Annabel nodded her understanding but she was still clearly nervous; so Greg took it easy, repeatedly pushing in a little and then withdrawing almost as much. As the tip of his cock passed though her inner ring she panicked and Greg felt her muscles clamp down around him. ‘It’s too big!’ she hissed, so Greg waited for the contraction to subside, running his free hand over her skin; until she relaxed again and he started to undulate his hips setting up the slightest thrusting movement possible.

Once she had settled down to this motion, his hand slipped down over her belly and slipped between the lips of her vulva. Diving between her lips he quickly located her clit and started to run his finger in circles round it. Annabel quickly became aroused and as she started to thrust back against him, Greg slid his finger down under her clit and started to press it up against its hood. In seconds, Annabel screamed and to Greg, it felt as though his erection had been seized by an iron fist as her whole body contracted around him.

He felt every wave as it passed through her and only when the final wave had subsided did he gently roll her onto her front and leaning forward, whispered in her ear, ‘Now I’m going to fuck your brains out!’ ‘Hmm’, sighed Annabel contentedly, or so it sounded, into the pillow. Despite the way he threatened to have her, Greg took it easy; slowly building up the length of stroke and then the pace. Only when he sensed her deliberately contracting around him as he thrust forwards into her; did he allow himself to ravage her as he had threatened, and then, seconds later, it was Greg’s turn to roar as he emptied his balls into the condom buried deep inside Annabel’s rear.

His rapidly wilting erection left her with a little ‘plop’ as Greg fell to one side pulling her back into his arms and cuddling her. ‘You OK?’ he whispered. At first Annabel didn’t respond except with the slightest nod, but then ground her rear into his groin and murmured ‘I’ve not had an orgasm whilst being bum-fucked before!’ ‘But you are OK?’ Greg asked, genuinely concerned. Annabel snuggled deeper into his embrace before murmuring, ‘A little tender perhaps … but I do feel delightfully decadent!’ and then she was asleep.

‘I thought it was me who was supposed to fall asleep afterwards’, thought Greg; now feeling as though it was his duty to stay awake and watch  over her while she slept. But he wanted to get rid of the condom hanging from his prick … he needed to pee … and to make matters worse, his arm on which Annabel’s neck was resting was starting to go to sleep. Several minutes later, Greg had managed to extricate his arm from underneath Annabel without waking her; and he padded over to the bathroom to empty his bladder and clean up.

With condom disposed of, bladder emptied and hands and prick scrupulously washed clean; Greg strolled back over to the bed where he lay down beside Annabel. He couldn’t resist running his hand over the cheeks of her bum, because as Greg told himself ‘For a woman of her age, she does have a superb arse!’

She started to stir and turn towards Greg who was still tenderly stroking her. Greg, who was by then starting to get another erection, had an idea. As gently as he could managed, he got up to his knees and turned round so although they were still facing one another, they were now facing in opposite directions. So, when Annabel opened her eyes, she was confronted by Greg’s shiny glans, bobbing in front of her face.

Without making any comment, other than unconsciously raising an eyebrow; she leant forward and took him into her mouth. Greg sighed as her soft lips ran backwards and forwards across his taught, sensitive skin; but Greg’s intentions weren’t altogether selfish however. So, after sighing deeply as Annabel sucked harder, he lifted Annabel’s upper leg and buried his face in the angle between her thighs. Now it was Annabel’s turn to sigh as Greg’s tongue swept up between her outer lips, down to her inner lips and located her clit which throbbed its need.

Despite having come only minutes before, Greg was fast becoming too aroused for comfort; as Annabel sucked and slurped between his legs. Determined to be the gentleman and make sure she too had her pleasure, Greg waited until she was at about the mid-point of a down-stroke and then wedged his ankle behind her neck. Annabel was then pinned with a mouth full of Greg’s erection but unable to touch the tender head of his cock.

This restriction only seemed to arouse her further and as he sucked her clit to full erection she sighed deeply and clasped her hands round the back of his head, clearly indicating she wanted more. Taking his time and carefully responding to the subtle indications given by Annabel’s hand movements, Greg gradually sensed her becoming more and more aroused; then she tensed crushing his head between her thighs, as she called out and gasped for air.

But once her breathing started to slow, Greg’s intentions really did become selfish and moving his ankle from behind her neck, he withdrew until only the head of his cock was in her mouth and began thrusting it in and out between her lips. Annabel who had got scarcely her breath back, formed her lips into a tight ‘O’ and grasped his shaft helping him on, until he thrust savagely into her mouth and came with a force he had seldom experienced, to be rewarded with the sound of Annabel swallowing, desperately trying to keep up with the volume of his emission.

Greg shivered as she paid particular attention to the head of his cock with her lips and tongue; presumably cleaning away the last of his emission. Greg wiped his lips with the back of his hand before wriggling round and snuggling up to Annabel. She surprised him by kissing him full on the lips and Greg was shocked, as for the first time, he tasted his semen in her mouth; but quickly realised that she too, must be able to taste herself on his lips. Reaching between them she grasped his cock and started trying to massage it back to erection. Her next words confirmed her intentions: ‘Can you stay the night?’

With lightning speed, Greg’s mind skipped backwards through his schedule for the next morning. An eight o’clock flight from Heathrow meant a seven o’clock check-in. Allow at least half an hour to park the car, and at least an hour to get to the airport. That meant leaving at half past five. Forty five minutes to get up, have some coffee and a shower. Greg realised he had to get home and get some sleep; he needed to get up at 4:45 tomorrow morning.

To his amazement the felt himself hardening again, this time in Annabel’s silken grip. This may have been the reason for his hesitation in stating the obvious, so Annabel added, ‘I thought we could have a conventional fuck before you left.’ The crudeness of her language brought him back to his senses … if he stayed here he wasn’t going to get much if any sleep tonight and he had an important meeting in Scotland tomorrow.

Greg pecked her on the lips ‘Sorry!’ ‘I’ve got a morning flight from Heathrow to catch, so your conventional fuck …’ and here he emphasised the words she’d used, ‘will have to wait until next time!’ ‘Oh there’s going to be a next time is there?’ Annabel replied sounding indignant; but her facial expression softened as she felt Greg’s hand insinuate itself between her legs.

Thinking he was about to cave in she moved her legs to accommodate him, but then gasped as he thrust his thumb into her; and with his fingers digging into the cheeks of her arse, held her in a steely but highly intimate grip. ‘Yes there’s going to be a next time!’ hissed Greg, knowing full well that was what she wanted. ‘Isn’t there?’ he demanded. With his hand gripping her pussy, all Annabel could do look up nervously and nod; but again her expression changed as he released his grip on her arse and cork-screwed his thumb in and out of her several times.

Slipping his thumb out and ostentatiously sucking it clean, he leaned forward kissing her full on the lips said, ‘If I stay here my little sex-pot, I doubt you’d let me get any sleep at all!’ Standing, Greg started dressing and after padding across to the en-suite in just her top, Annabel re-emerged wearing a cream silk wrap which emphasised her curves - something which made Greg groan and wonder momentarily, whether he was making the right decision in leaving. She insisted on ‘helping’, fussing over him fastening buttons and straightening things as he dressed. Then after hurriedly agreeing on ‘same time, same place’ she escorted him down to the door; skipping along with her arm looped through his.

After a quick peck on the cheek it was over and Greg was driving through the dusk on his way home. Upstairs in the bedroom, Annabel groaned as the head of the dildo stretched her pussy open. Imagining the man who had just ravaged her arse and throat above her, she thrust it into herself, gasping as it filled her. One way or another, Annabel was determined to end the evening with what resembled a ‘conventional fuck’!