We left Paris at the Platte in separate cars. I followed Kylie to the two bedroom apartment she shared with her classmate on the other side of downtown. I must have gained the roommate’s approval, judging by expressions of shock and inaudible words of praise she covertly mouthed behind my back while I pretended not to look. It surprises me that women actually think we don’t see that. The swank little apartment was obviously too expensive for college students working on music degrees, implying that the girls were still getting help from their parents. The framed art deco pictures above the flat screen TV seemed at odds with the Hello Kitty poster hanging from Kylie’s bedroom door. Just enough innocence to convince mommy and daddy she was still their little girl; not so bold as to warrant rich girl shaming from fellow students.
After she showed off a couple of her prized guitars, we settled into the couch for our lesson. To be honest, my familiarity only goes as far as note placement on the fretboard, and basic chord progression. As it turned out, ignorance worked to my advantage. The worse I played, the closer Kylie hovered to rescue me. A strategically misplaced pinky on a C-major evoked a cringe. She took the guitar from my hand, sat on my lap, crossed her legs, and assumed classical posture. I’m pretty sure straddling one’s students is not common practice among professional instructor; but the flamenco music that leapt from her fingers nearly took my mind of the bulge growing in my pants. Nearly.
Growing tired of the seduction, I grabbed the fret board, muting the strings to a feeble halt, and placed the guitar carefully on the couch. The brief look of disappointment on Kylie’s face gave way to submission as I pulled her back onto my broad chest. She kissed me tenderly – in a way that came with a promise to give herself over to me completely if I swore not to hurt her. Our lips explored each others, growing more eager by the second. Leaning forward, I gathered her into my arms and stood up, holding her like a bridegroom carrying his new wife across the threshold. Kylie kicked off her sandals, then lowered her feet to the floor without releasing our lock. Her toes must have only touch the cold hardwood for a brief instant before I brought her back up to me once again for a deep embrace. Her lips were wet and soft, and tasted like watermelon. Her body stretched long to maintain her reach around my neck, allowing my hands to wander across her sides and lower back, drifting down to her…
“Did you bring protection?”, she whispered with an abrupt stop.
“Should I have?”, I asked with a serious face. “I didn’t know I was supposed to assume… you know… from a coffee date.”
She gave me a stare that seemed to suggest both incomprehension and defeat, then lowered her face into my chest.
“Yeah, I did.”, I finally returned with a chuckle. “Just admit you didn’t bring me over here for a lesson.”
Narrowing her eyes to a seductive smile, she responded, “Oh, you’re gonna get a lesson, alright.”
And there’s your first mistake, my dear. You seem to have no idea which way the power dynamic is going in this situation. We’ll have to do something about that.
Kylie, barefoot and primed like a Formula One race car, turned around. With my hand in hers and a slow sway of the hips, she escorted me to her bedroom. That damn judgemental Hello Kitty now stood as the gatekeeper between us and unadulterated sex. Kylie barely had time to push the door open before I spun her around and pulled her into myself. I continued marching forward, delivering butterfly kisses to her face as she backpedaled through the threshold. I kicked the door closed. No need to traumatize Ms Kitty by the events that were about to ensue.
The girl wasted no time in unbuttoning my shirt, spreading it open for unfettered access to my barrel chest. She buried her face in it, seeming to draw energy from my scent. Her fingers, having lost the dexterity with which she played the guitar, fumbled at my belt buckle. With single minded purpose, I slapped the buckle open, and jerked the belt from my pants as if drawing a Samurai sword. In her momentary distraction from that little trick, she neglected the wall behind her. I pinned her to it, diverting our bodies so as to miss the adjacent night stand by inches. The bed loomed not to far away, but I wasn’t ready to go horizontal just yet.
Kissing Kylie ever more passionately, I lifted both of her hands above her head. Holding her wrists with my left hand, I wrapped two turns of the belt around her wrists. I transferred the ends and loop to my right hand, pinning her wrists against the wall above her head. Kylie abruptly stopped. Looking upward, she examined the situation above with an almost childlike curiosity.
“Do you trust me?”, I asked her.
Giving no answer, she instead seemed to resist the challenge to her power. Her eyes returned to mine, not saying a word. Her body writhed against me in a feigned attempt at escape. In her face was the look of arousal mixed with defiance.
“Let go, baby. Let go.”, I whispered to her as I proceeded to kiss her neck.
Her struggling subsided to a slow undulation. She closed her eyes and raised her chin to further expose her neck to me. The arteries were faintly visible and pulsing, as if the last vestiges of control vacated her mind through her very blood stream. I buried my face into the space between the side of her neck and shoulder. The scent of her lotion now colluded with the heat of desire to bring something almost animalistic out of me. I sucked at her neck, all the while rigidly holding her wrists in their servile position. My left hand drifted up her body to meet her right breast, held firmly in place by her bra. I desperately unbuttoned her shirt, and spread it wide. Too preoccupied with kissing her lovely mouth to divert my eyes, I gave my hand the charge of beginning the exploration. My fingertips, descending onto her bra, were met with an explosion of sensations – frills and lace. I cupped her small, perky breasts in the palm of my hand, alternating between them. At some point, I discovered the front clasp of the bra, and threw it open to free her pale flesh. My hand continued to work her breast, trying to mentally transfer every ounce of heat and energy into her as if it was a battery delivering a charge. It must have worked. She spread her legs, raised her hips and introduced her sex to my lower thigh. Kylie road my leg fervently.
With a pant, Kylie uttered in low tones, “My roommate… she’s right next door.”
My left hand shot out frantically to the nightstand, rooting for the alarm clock radio in my peripheral vision. A couple, good slaps surprised the little radio into belting out the opening bars of Breaking the Girl by Red Hot Chili Peppers.
You’re kidding me. It’s almost like I planned it.
In one fluid motion, I retreated and spun my little pet around, pinning her again to the wall face forward. The single, defiant lock of hair had, by now, recruited an entire resistance movement, shrouding Kylie's face in a beautifully messy, golden halo. I didn't just want inside this girl; I wanted to own her. I wanted to do things to her body that reverberated throughout the apartment. I slid my left hand – poised between Kylie’s breasts and the wall – down her body. Untying the drawstrings, her summer skirt became the next casualty of war. I whipped the waist of the skirt down below her hips, letting it fall to the floor. Then, sliding my hand between her thighs to cup her sex, I hoisted the young girl upward. The crotch of her panties felt wet and moist against my palm. I began sliding my hand in a back-and-forth motion – from fingertips to heel – over that warm place. Friction from the material of her panties worked wonders on her swollen pussy lips. She quickly caught the rhythm, fucking my hand on the down-stroke. I would occasionally stop, giving her pause with no relief, before resuming. She resigned to beautiful agony with a moan, face falling into the gap between her raised arms. She was ready.
Finally releasing her wrists, I commanded Kylie to take off her shirt and panties. When she had done so, I looped the belt around her waist and ushered her to the bed. There, she assumed a low doggystyle position, face down on the soft, flower-pattern comforter. Pulling her wrists together again, and bringing them underneath and between her legs, I resumed control with a single loop of the belt.
I fell to my knees on the floor behind Kylie admiring her glorious ass – ample, round and soft. Pink and peach labia splay before me like the first bloom of a Spring flower. Using the belt as leverage, I lunged into her with my mouth as a man dying of thirst in the desert. She grind against my face, panting and whining. Her small hands, no longer capable of expression, wrangled inside the belt loop and clawed at the hand that held it. I gave her hard spank on the ass at her petulance, than caressed the area slowly. She was overcome by lust. Her sex seemed to open even more to me, which I greedily accepted by driving my tongue inward. I alternated between lapping at the sweet spot – a ¼ inch inside against the pelvic bone – and sucking at the base of the clitoris. When her wetness seemed to reach it’s max, I proceeded upward to her anus. Using my tongue, I delivered small circles around it. So as to not leave her clitoris to feel cheated, I pulled Kylie’s wrists upward so that her hands met her sex. As if anticipating my intend, she began fingering her clit vigorously.
And with a loud gasp, and rigid retreat of her torso and pelvis, my little angel began the long rapture of an orgasm. It was magnificent! The fingers of her constrained left hand, now talons, bit into the leather strap as her right hand maintain contact with her clit. The silky flesh of her thighs and buttocks appeared to vibrate steadily before giving in to the slow convulsions of the demon possessed. Her breathlessness broke into a fever of crying and obscenities that not even the radio would drown out. I waited patiently, rubbing her back until the spasms subsided, then I gave her an ultimatum.
“I won’t fuck you until you beg for it. Beg, baby.”, I commanded in a stern, but loving, voice.
Silence.
“You know what you want. Just ask”, I said.
The protracted moment of silence ended when a voice emerged from the bed.
“Fuck me, please.”, she begged.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/21qgei/tribute_of_flesh_part_2_mfinterracial_submission