She’s perfect. Its taken a while to get her to this point, but now that she’s here, its magic.
It was a lovely evening out – she’s such a good conversationalist, and dinner was perfect – a few glasses of wine added a warm glow to things, but really – they weren’t needed. She gets so fired up talking about politics – I love the flush that comes over her face during passionate conversation, and I love the contrast between who she is out in the world and who she is at home.
Who she is, indeed – it changes at the moment we step through the door. She turns to me for a kiss, and then quickly loses her jacket and purse and excuses herself to the bedroom. I hear the shower turn on as I’m hanging up my own coat – it runs while I poke around the kitchen for snacks. I hear it stop, and then over a few minutes, cupboard doors opening and closing – I love those sounds, wondering what she’s putting on for me.
Finally, I hear a familiar sound that instantly gets captures my attention – it sounds like belt buckle being put on, but that’s not what it is.
Now I’m excited, for what’s mine and what’s waiting for me. There she is, standing in the bedroom – she’s wearing some tight jeans that show off her magnificent curves, and a fuzzy white sweater without a bra on. I can see her nipples through the sweater – swollen already, in part from anticipation, in part from the pressure from her swollen breasts that haven’t been drained since this morning. She’s got her blind fold on, and her wrist and ankle straps – the sound of which being buckled made the belt-like sound that summoned me to the room.
She’s waiting quietly, attentively – she’s showered and dressed in something she know’s I’ll enjoy taking off of her; she’s blindfolded herself and put on her straps – she’s done a good job getting ready for me, and I tell her as much.
“Good job,” I say – “You look like you’re ready for me. Are you?”
“Yes sir,” she responds. Quietly.
I cross the bedroom to her and lift her chin with my finger. My hand grazes one of her swollen nipples through her sweater on the way to her chin, and she starts a little. I lean in and kiss her lips.
“You’re mine.” I prompt her.
“Completely,” she replies on cue.
“Your my toy,” I continue the ritual.
“Yes,” she says. “My body is yours to use as you please.”
“Your mouth belongs to me.” I kiss her again. She breaths out. “Yes.”
“Your breasts are mine.” “Yes” she breathes. Her left nipple, the one I grazed, has started to leak, soaking through her sweater.
“Your pussy belongs to me.” “Yes, sir.” She breathes out, her voice catching a little.
“Good,” I say. She’s remembered all of her lines. I turn her around by shoulder and take her hands behind her back and secure her wrists together, with a metal clip attached to each of the leather straps wrapped around her wrists. Still behind her, I reach in front and undo her belt buckle, and unbutton and unzip her jeans – loosening them, but not lowering them. I reach a little further, and slide by hand between her legs, over her jeans, feeling the heat building there, how the seam of her jeans pushes up between her pussy lips a little. I love teasing her through her clothes.
I turn her back around, and pull up a dressing chair. I’m sitting now, with her standing in front of me. Her hands are secured behind her back, her blindfold is on tight, her jeans are undone – but still up, and in this chair I’m perfectly level with her breasts. The left one has darkened a significant area of her sweater as its leaked; I lift her sweater up over her breasts, dragging it over her nipples as I do, exposing them both in all of their glory. Their heavy and full – they’ve got that drum tight look and the exposed veins of very active milk production that’s gone unrelieved for too long. They’re heavy, and large – not obscenely so, a lovely natural shape. Her nipples face slightly down and slightly out, and both are – as I noticed through the sweater – swollen at attention, straining under the weight and pressure behind them. Quickly I bring myself to the one leaking, and pull her nipple deep into my mouth, squeezing it with my tongue from the bottom while starting to suck, her sweet, warm milk veritably pours from her. Hungrily I slurp it down, and she moans gently in pleasure and release; I stop only when I see her right breast start to leak – the sympathetic “let down.” I spend a few minutes on that one as well – drinking of her, savouring the sweetness and heat, a flavour that’s hers alone; the feeling of her breast pressed against my face, the sensation of her nipple in my mouth – engorged and stretched by the suction I’m putting on it.
As I work on her right breast, my hand finds its way back between her legs, this time from the front, massaging her through her jeans. Still latched on her breast, I start to pull her pants down – sliding them over the curve of her luscious hips. She’s dressed herself in sheer blue panties – simple and sexy, that highlight the shape of her navel as it curves down to the hot, wet center of her.
I release her breast, having relieved the pressure, and had my fill and pull her jeans down to her knees, before standing up. I reach under the trim line and pull her panties to one side, exposing her public hair – its not long, but its not short, and its impeccably trimmed – just the way I like it. Standing now, I start kissing her again, as I work finger through the hair, between her lips and find her hole – its not hard to do, her pussy lips and clit (and the inside of her panties if I cared to take a look) are slick with wetness that’s been leaking out from her. I get my index finger deep inside her – I can feel the inside of her pussy, hot and wet and clenching around me, and pull it out. Slick with her own wetness, I bring my finger to her mouth and let her taste.
…. to be continued.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10e1a72/well_trained_1_oc