Author: Checkandstripes

I can feel the bulge between my legs, urgent, can sense the veins standing proud against the soft cotton bedsheet. I turn and lie on my hip, the tip of my cock now touching it.

Quick check between my legs, and yes. My balls are heavy and pulled close. So I gently thrust feeling the friction against me. My mind wanders.

…Neither of us has been awake for long, me naked, you in black panties and vest top. As always we lay there for a few minutes, looking at each other, assessing the mood. Then the deep kisses, me taking in the dishevelled hair and lack of make up – my favourite look on you. The intertwining of tongues, and as you turn your back, I pull you close.

The effects of the previous nights play still lingers along with the scent of your sex, the delicious tang, a giveaway that you’re getting wet already which arouses me further. Your backside pressing close to me ‘somebody’s awake’ you say drowsily. A typical understatement. My morning hard on vigorous. Read more »

It’s 7am and I’m still in bed, we don’t talk anymore, but I still take moments of pleasure in recalling how we were.

The thought of seeing you again thrills me. Our time together was as unpredictable as you were, the spontaneity is what attracted me to you in the first place.

In the thin veil between waking and sleep everything seems possible.

Breathing deeply, hands resting in the space between my groin and navel I focus on the feelings permeating my body. Acknowledging thoughts but not trying to remove them.

Scenarios we fantasised over but never did.

“I just want you to look at me down there”

I’d never heard a woman say that before. The image of you leant forward against the door of my flat palms pressed, legs apart slightly, dress hitched. Sunlight catching the wetness between your thighs, the glistening.

The night out, when despite not seeing each other for an age we still ended up with our fingers inside and around each other.

“Fuck me, I want to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg” Read more »

We’re hungry, which is why I’m currently in the kitchen preparing food, you sat on the worktop, legs swinging playfully, glass of wine in hand. I ask about your day, only half listening to the reply, concentrating not only on what I’m doing – sharp knife in hand- but also preoccupied slightly with the way your summer dress is riding up above your knees, light floral fabric bunching and rucked, bare tanned legs underneath.

Putting the knife down and picking up my own glass, I refocus. This isn’t the easiest meal to prepare and I’m suddenly flustered by the sight of your legs opening ever so slightly, underwear showing, the dark green panties I like so much because of the way they look against your skin. The subtle lace trim.

It would be far too easy to give in to temptation, and I’m determined to act the gentleman. Anyway, that little flash is probably accidental, I mean, we do have to eat at some point this evening.

Reluctantly turning my back on you, I move to the sink, more easy going chit chat. As I continue with the dinner I can hear you shifting about. You’re clearly relaxed here and the thought brings a smile to my face. it is to my mind a picture of domestic bliss. And I’m glad. Read more »

One drink, what harm could it do, he told himself about four hours ago. Panic. Sharp and sickly. Tied to a chair rarely ends well – we’ve all seen the movies – held fast ankles bound, hands tied behind him. In her house. And where the hell is she anyway?

Is this some form of payback for god knows what? Will her new boyfriend find him here? please not that.

There’s movement from upstairs, and instead of being happy to hear he’s not alone it just ignites more panic, there can be comfort in solitude after all. Should he call out? just thinking about doing so feels like such a cliche. Damn his English blood.

‘Focus on the breath, calm calm’

Where are his shoes? he laughs quietly, this is ridiculous.

And then, there she is, and for one moment there’s relief, or more like the absence of panic.

Even after everything, The attraction is there and as the discomfort subsides it’s replaced by something else. She sits down on the sofa, a smile playing across her lips, small but noticeable. Which cannot be said about the growing bulge in his jeans. Read more »

It’s 7am and I’m still in bed, we don’t talk anymore, but I still take moments of pleasure in recalling how we were.

The thought of seeing you again thrills me. Our time together was as unpredictable as you were, the spontaneity is what attracted me to you in the first place.

In the thin veil between waking and sleep everything seems possible.

Breathing deeply, hands resting in the space between my groin and navel I focus on the feelings permeating my body. Acknowledging thoughts but not trying to remove them.

Scenarios we fantasised over but never did.

“I just want you to look at me down there”

I’d never heard a woman say that before. The image of you leant forward against the door of my flat palms pressed, legs apart slightly, dress hitched. Sunlight catching the wetness between your thighs, the glistening.

The night out, when despite not seeing each other for an age we still ended up with our fingers inside and around each other.

“Fuck me, I want to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg” Read more »

She was a friend of a friend, but from the moment he saw her, he knew he had to have her. And when I say have, I mean it in the strongest terms, have, take, the feeling was so intense and felt so right, he knew it would happen.

That first moment was a lunchtime drink, his friend made introductions, she smiled and said ‘hi’ her voice gentle, her eyes blue and the most beautiful he’d ever seen. They stood at the bar, him, her, and the friend in the middle. Walking back to work afterwards he’s even more sure she’s going to become more than a passing acquaintance.

Flash forward 2 weeks, she’s at his flat, they talk and flirt, something or other on the tv. She works where he does and lunchtime has become an exercise in sexual tension. So this has been inevitable. Leaning over to kiss her she straddles his lap, her hair is up and the fine face and eyes look even more striking. He cups her face in his hands and places a deep kiss, tender at first and then more urgent, lips parted their tongues move over each other, probing. Read more »

….to feel your hair bunched between my fingers, as smooth as the movement of your mouth around my cock

….your tongue grazing the underside of my tip, flicking over the frenulum lapping at the precum

….the taste of your pussy as you ride my tongue

….you sitting on my lap as I suck your nipples

….two fingers deep inside, pumping into you, my knuckles grazing your lips as you move your hips to meet me

She was a friend of a friend, but from the moment he saw her, he knew he had to have her. And when I say have, I mean it in the strongest terms, have, take, the feeling was so strong and felt so right, he knew it would happen.

That first moment was a lunchtime drink, his friend made introductions, she smiled and said ‘hi’ her voice gentle, her eyes blue and the most beautiful he’d ever seen. They stood at the bar, him, her, and the friend in the middle. Walking back to work afterwards he’s even more sure she’s going to become more than a passing acquaintance.

Flash forward 2 weeks, she’s at his flat, they talk and flirt, something or other on the tv. She works where he does and lunchtime has become an exercise in sexual tension. So this has been inevitable. Leaning over to kiss her she straddles his lap, her hair is up and the fine face and eyes look even more striking. He cups her face in his hands and places a deep kiss, tender at first and then more urgent, lips parted their tongues move over each other, probing. Read more »

On the edge of waking, I sense the familiar feeling, I’ve started a stretch without even realising.

In the still sleepy warmth I run a hand down from my chest over my stomach, to grasp at the hardening between my legs – you have been in my head, your voice, your body, all of you – starting to replay your stories, I want to think about your mouth around me, hearing your fingers taking that exploratory feel inside yourself and coming out coated, the brushing of fabric as you pulled your panties to the side – the moan you made when you touched yourself will be in my head for days.

With eyes closed, and semi hard I stroke, slowly, insistently, starting at the base and stopping when my hand reaches the head. Thinking, thinking, thinking…black yoga pants, you on your back…..bending you over, licking you like that…..tapping on your clit with my now swollen glans….grabbing your hips and nudging you open as I slide inch by inch inside…oh my god it goes on and on.

So rigid with lust for you that it’s obscene at this hour, I make myself stop…and wait

One drink, what harm could it do, I told myself about four hours ago. Panic. Sharp and sickly. Tied to a chair rarely ends well, so I imagine anyway, as I sit, held fast ankles bound, hands tied behind me. In her house. And where the hell is she anyway? Is this some form of payback for god knows what? Will her new boyfriend find me here? please not that.

There’s movement from upstairs, and instead of being happy to hear I’m not alone it just panics me more, what the hell is going on exactly. I want to call out, but even thinking about doing so feels like such a cliche, I don’t bother. Damn my English blood. Focus on the breath, calm calm, and now I see my trainers have been taken off, great.

And then, there she is, and for one moment there’s relief, or more like the absence of panic.

Even after everything, I still can’t help but find her attractive and as the panic subsides it’s replaced by something else. She sits down on the sofa across from me, a smile playing across her lips, small but noticeable. Which cannot be said about the growing bulge in my jeans. As confused as I am by the whole ‘situation’ there’s a part of me that’s wanted this for a long time, to be dominated, nothing too strong so this is perfect. Read more »