An Intimate Evening

Dear Reader: This is the second part of a series of stories I plan to share. They are largely autobiographical, with adjustments for identity and continuity. The theme, which develops slowly (because that's how it happened) is primarily BDSM. If this isn't your preference, I would respectfully suggest that you might not want to read beyond the first two stories. If BDSM is your thing, I hope you enjoy these stories, which are most definitely not fantasies. Oh, and please remember to vote!

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I looked in the mirror and chuckled at my excited face. I spent most of the day after my encounter with Mark just going through the motions. My thoughts had drifted in Lit and History classes, and I had no idea what I'd eaten for lunch. All I could think about was the coming evening with Mark. My cheeks warmed as I remembered going down on him. What a crazy impulse! But once I'd seen his reaction, I had to have him. I'd been a sucker for a good hard-on since I was, well, much younger. He he, sucker, ohhhh yeah!

Seeing someone else who was turned on had always pushed my own buttons. I was no stunning beauty, breaking hearts at every turn, but enough guys seemed to appreciate my enthusiasm and willingness for sex (unlike a lot of the prudes from my high school) that I'd never been lonely for very long.

I'd always been careful to avoid the genuine jerks; guys who either bragged too much, thought only of their own pleasure, or bullied their girlfriends. This left a reasonable choice of guys who might not know the score at first, but learned quickly under my attentions. My steady high school boyfriend was amazed at my abilities, convinced that someone before him had taught me. He just couldn't understand that I'd always instinctively known how to be pleasing, and got just as hot giving as receiving.

I'd certainly gotten Mark's attention, at any rate. Funny, I should probably be worried that he was going to put me off nicely, but somehow I just didn't think it was going to happen. I'd learned, from careful inquiring, that he wasn't seeing anyone. Apparently he was way too involved in his grad work. All work and no play certainly made for one cranky tutor. I'd love to be the one who fixed that. I had a feeling there was one very intense man under his distracted, math-loving exterior, and I'd bet just about anything he'd be just as intense in bed as in his office.

Uh-oh, there I went, daydreaming again. I laughed and went to my closet, searching for just the right outfit for our "nice dinner". The usual collection of jeans and sweaters was pretty much out. What kind of look did I want: "proper" for a fancy restaurant, trendy, or flat-out "come and get me"? I opted for my very own style. I started with a wine colored suede-silk skirt, full and longish, that shimmered when I walked. I added a Victorian-styled white cotton blouse with full gathered sleeves, an antique lace collar, and a deep V-neck that showed off my cleavage. The icing on the cake would be a soft black leather vest with tiny black pearl buttons.

I laid the clothes on my bed, along with a pair of sheer thigh-high stockings (I detested pantyhose), and my favorite white satin panties and bra. They were pretty and comfortable, a rare combination. Whenever I'd worn them for my sweetie back home, they hadn't stayed on for very long.

I frowned at the skirt, which was kind of wrinkled. A glance at the clock told me I had enough time for a shower, so I could hang it in the steam. I loved Friday afternoons—my roommate, Carol, left early to make the short trip to her folks' house out in the country, so I had the whole place to myself.

I stripped in the bedroom and sauntered down the hall, rubbing the silk over my breasts. I hung the skirt up on the bathroom door, and then started the shower. Billows of steam puffed out and started their magic on the skirt as I stepped under the hot water. I washed my long auburn hair quickly, and then soaped up, rubbing the silky spice-scented lather over my breasts and stomach, then working my way down. I soaped the soft curls on my mound, and slipped a finger inside my slit. My clit was already slightly swollen. I'd been thinking about Mark all day so it was no surprise. I rubbed myself tentatively for a moment in slow, sensuous circles. It was awfully tempting to cum right now, just to take the edge off the evening, but I decided I liked the tension, and my energy would be better spent on Mark. I rinsed quickly, and then stepped out and toweled off. I slid open the window and my nipples tightened from the cool fall breeze.

Once the steam cleared I went to the mirror and took out my makeup. My skin was nice and clear, save for the freckles across my nose and cheeks. I went light on the makeup for our dinner date: a touch of blush and powder for color and smoothness; a dusting of golden eye shadow and mascara to bring out my very green eyes; and some wine colored lipstick that complemented my skirt. I had to go easy on it to avoid looking like some vampire's leftovers.

I toweled my hair until it was wavy-dry and worked it into a French braid down my back. It was nearly waist length now, and becoming a hassle, but I didn't have the nerve to cut it. I looped the heavy braid up and caught it in a black velvet bow at the nape of my neck, then pulled a few strands out on either side and let them fall in front of my ears in soft spirals.

I shook out the skirt and carried it back to my room. It was just after 4:00. I dressed slowly, thinking again about Mark, and wondering what he would say. I'd never been this excited about a date before. I really wanted him, but he was so reserved. I had no idea what he wanted. I sighed in exasperation. I wouldn't find out if I sat here! I buttoned up the vest and looked in the mirror. Not bad, but my throat and cleavage were a bit stark. I poked through my jewelry box and found the perfect thing, an antique necklace of small silver filigree beads with a long black cut glass teardrop that seemed to point the way to where I'd most like Mark's attention. Subtle as a brick wasn't I? I added small dangly black teardrop earrings, just to gild the lily.

I sat down to put on my favorite shoes, perfect with this outfit—not-too-high heeled black leather boots that laced up the front; sort of prim-looking, but sexy with this outfit. I stood up and inspected myself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. I nearly laughed out loud at the effect, straight off the cover of one of my roommate's bodice-ripper novels. All I needed was a touch of perfume, my favorite spicy scent, on all the good places. I closed my eyes, wished myself luck, grabbed my purse, and headed towards Mark's office.

It was only a few short blocks, and this time I enjoyed the walk. The September sunlight sparkled on the sidewalk. I loved the way the silk skirt brushed my thighs as I walked. I waved at one of the guys in my Chem class, who waved back and leered appreciatively. I grinned back and strutted on my way, feeling quite full of myself.

I arrived at Mark's door slightly breathless…and 10 minutes early. I thought I heard his voice inside so I paced the hall for a moment. Hearing a pause, I knocked softly just to let him know I was there. To my surprise, the door opened immediately. Mark was still talking on the phone, but his eyes got wide and he made a quick goodbye when he saw me. He replaced the phone, and stepped back to let me in, making a big show of looking at his watch in surprise.

"So...you can be on time when you want to, hmm?" He teased.

I laughed, refusing to be baited this time. "My lab was canceled, so I had all afternoon to get ready." I pirouetted for him. "Is this okay?"

His eyes sparkled, and he had those smile-crinkles beside them again. "You look good enough to eat."

I grinned and tilted my head teasingly. "Where would you like to start?" I purred, taking a step towards him.

He put his hands on my waist, stroking the edge of the leather vest with his fingertips. "My, my, you don't waste any time, do you?" he asked, pulling me closer and nibbling my earlobe.

I shivered, feeling his warm breath on my neck. My nipples began to tighten. "I don't believe in pretense," I said, arching my neck for more, and reaching out to run my hand through his wavy dark hair, drawing him a step closer.

He caught me by the wrists, pushed my arms behind my back, and pulled me tight against him, covering my mouth and kissing me hard. I hesitated for a moment, surprised, then matched his probing tongue with my own, melting into him and whimpering slightly. No one had ever kissed me like that before!

As quickly as he'd caught me up, he let me go. I stumbled back, breathless, and looked up at him in surprise.

"Don't be a tease, Amy," he said softly, running a finger over my lips. "I told you before; you might get more than you bargained for."

I shivered again at his touch. "I don't tease," I retorted, trying to hide the quiver in my voice. My nipples tightened even harder, and I could feel the inevitable trickle along my pussy lips. This was getting out of control.

I straightened and took a half-step back. "I don't like being teased, either. We can have dinner if you want, or I'll leave if you'd rather, but don't play with me. We can forget that yesterday ever happened. It was just an impulse," I shrugged, trying desperately to calm down.

Mark smiled slightly, then walked to the door and made a show of locking it. He walked past me and sat on the sofa, the same place where he'd been yesterday. He slowly looked me up and down, and I felt the color rise to my cheeks. He looked so good, sitting there. He wore an amber silk shirt and black wool slacks with an interesting texture. The color of his shirt brought out the tawny brown of his eyes. The black leather tie was an unusual contrast to the sheen of his shirt. I could see his nipples through the thin fabric, small and tight. My eyes dropped to his crotch, and I realized he was as aroused as I was. My eyes flew back to his in pleased surprise and I smiled slowly.

"Amy, come sit with me," he requested firmly. I obeyed eagerly, perching a little bit apart from him, on the edge of my seat, willing myself to relax. The silk slithered across my thighs, making me shiver. Mark saw that, and rested one hand on my shoulder as he turned my face towards his with his other index finger. I met his gaze, and amazingly I felt a little calmer.

He drew a breath, and kissed the tip of my nose. "Amy, I want you to know that I'm very attracted to you, for a lot of reasons." The knot in my stomach eased a little. "What you did for me yesterday was wonderful and very...generous." I opened my mouth to answer, but he silenced me with a finger over my lips. He smiled at me, wickedly. "You are quite talented, you know. I'd love to see what else you can do." Now it was my turn to smile. I sucked his fingertip between my lips and began to nibble and lick it.

He sighed in enjoyment, and then focused again, resting his other fingers against my cheek. "You are so responsive; you practically radiate how much you need to be fucked." I gasped at his bluntness and he laughed softly.

"Don't tell me I've shocked you, girl...you're the one who was sucking my cock yesterday!"

I could feel myself blushing again, the finger in my mouth forgotten until he pressed my lip against my teeth. I sucked him deep in retaliation, eyes locked on his. He rubbed his thumb against my cheek, holding the back of my head with his other hand. I felt caught but, curiously, this just made me hotter. It felt like I was rushing into some big unknown, but Mark made it so compelling, and so easy.

"I want you so much right now, Amy. I have for a while."

I smiled in delight, learning it wasn't one-sided after all.

"But," he continued, "you barely know me, and I don't think it's fair to just drag you off to bed, especially since I'm supposed to be your teacher. I see a potential in you I'd like to explore. I have some…unusual tastes, and I suspect that you might share them, if you want to try; but I think we should get to know each other better first." He slipped his fingers, which had mysteriously become two, from my mouth. I sighed with regret, realizing he was waiting for an answer.

"Oh, Mark... I'm not some blushing virgin that you have to tiptoe around, believe me. I'm not sure what you mean about potential, but you've made me curious!" I grinned. "I hadn't realized I was that obvious, though."

"Only to the observant," he chuckled.

"Well, obviously I'm attracted to you, too. I'm not good at being patient, though, I'll warn you. I usually get who I want, when I want them. Don't make me wait too long, or I'll start without you." I shook a finger admonishingly at him.

He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "I think I'd like to see that."

I giggled. He didn't. My pussy tightened, hard, and my heart started pounding. I licked my lips, mouth gone dry. "What do you mean?" I whispered.

Mark took me by the shoulders and twisted me around on the sofa so I lay across his lap, gazing up at him. He pulled my skirt up slowly, smiling in appreciation of my stockings. He ran a fingernail up one thigh, across my crotch, and down the other side. "I mean," he said slowly and clearly, "I want to watch you cum...by yourself."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "But...I don't know if I can."

"What, you've never done yourself?" His turn for disbelief, now.

I blushed furiously. "N-not in front of someone else!" I squirmed as he teased at me, wriggling my hips towards him. I was so tight that I thought I might fold in on myself.

"Well, maybe this boldness of yours really is an act, after all." He started to lift me up and away from him.

"No!" What was I saying? "Wait! I'm just surprised, that's all." I snuggled up to him. He pulled me closer and kissed me, lightly at first, then more and more insistently. He took my hand in his and firmly slid it down to my now-dripping crotch.

I was embarrassed but so damn horny I knew I'd never make it through the rest of the evening without some relief. Tentatively, I pushed the fabric of my panties off to the side of my slit and began to finger my swollen clit, watching Mark's face. His glance went from my eyes to my hand and back again. I smiled bravely. He stroked the tender flesh inside my thighs and smiled back encouragingly. His smile warmed me all the way down to my pussy.

"Go on," he whispered. I shivered at his insistence, tightening in reaction. My fingers dipped inside, gathering juices to rub around my clit. It was like lightning. I swirled around my clit, brushing across the most sensitive part, rubbing with smaller, faster strokes. I whimpered as my climax gathered, faster than usual but not all that surprising, writhing in Mark's arms. He whispered encouragement to me, telling me how sexy I looked, how much he liked watching me, how much he wanted to see me cum. I panted and moaned, right on the edge. In one smooth movement he slid two fingers over my hand and plunged them deep inside me. I stifled a scream, riding his fingers through wave after wave of delight.

As I calmed he hugged and kissed me gently. He slipped his fingers out of my slit and I whimpered in regret.

"You're so tight, Amy. I can't wait to fuck you the way you need to be fucked." I shivered with pleasure at that thought and wanted to cum all over again. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips and made a great show of licking them carefully. I smiled appreciatively.

"Delicious!" he proclaimed. He toyed with the damp curls stuck my cheeks. I could smell my musk on his fingers. "Feel better now?" he gently teased.

I blushed deeply, but smiled in spite of myself. "I've been wound up all day about seeing you. I guess I got a little too tense." I hesitated. "Thank you, Mark; that was really, um, different." I looked at him questioningly. "So, is that what you meant about unusual tastes...are you a voyeur?"

He chuckled. "Not entirely, but I suppose you could say that's a part of it. I was curious about what you'd be willing to do for me. And how does a sweet little thing like you know about voyeurism?"

I rolled my eyes. "I read...a lot. Seems like I've spent the last four years trying to live down this good little girl reputation I never wanted. Everyone always seems so shocked when I swear, or disagree, or God forbid, come on to a guy and actually enjoy sex. I don't get it."

"My dear," Mark laughed softly, "you have an air of...innocence that's very tempting, and apparently very misleading." He tapped me on the nose. "Some guys are probably put off by such sweetness, but to me it's a temptation for something forbidden."

"Oh, a despoiler of virtue?" I giggled. "What did you mean, 'what I'd be willing to do for you'? You mean, you wanted to see how inhibited I was?"

He smiled. "Something like that." His watch beeped and he checked the time. "Ah, we have dinner reservations in half an hour, we should get going." He kissed me lightly, helping me to sit up. I opened my purse and took out a small mirror to straighten my hair and fix my lipstick, before standing up and rearranging my skirt.

He offered me his arm and escorted me out of his office.

We left the building through the back, out into the parking lot. He led me to a sleek black sports car. With a start I realized it was a Ferrari. Mark waved it off, explaining that it was a gift from his parents when he'd graduated magna cum laude. I was impressed.

We slid in, and he set off rather fast. He scared me at first, but I relaxed as I watched him control the car through traffic. He was fast, but very careful and confident. He shot onto the expressway, crossed the river, and climbed into the hills south of the city, towards an upscale shopping area. We pulled into the lot at Michael's, a very fancy place I'd read a review of in the paper. I was glad I'd dressed up! Mark opened my door while I gawked, and helped me up and out. He took my arm and walked me to the door.

The building was a beautiful old "stick-style" Victorian mansion with a deep wraparound porch, all brightly painted and glowing in the setting sun. The heavy, carved door creaked as we entered. Inside, the lighting was low, and the scent of beeswax candles mingled with delicious dinner smells. Mark spoke with the maitre'd while I drank in the atmosphere: rich carved wood, beautiful wallpaper and art prints decorating the walls, thick Oriental carpets covering gleaming wooden floors. We followed the maitre'd up the wide staircase and down a darker hallway to a door. He showed us into a private room, softly lit and accented by candles on an ornately carved table. Mark seated me on a brocaded chair, and then took his place across from me. I waited for the menu, looking inquiringly at him when the maitre'd simply left.

"I already ordered for us. I hope you like veal." He poured me a glass of white wine and I smiled.

"You realize I'm underage," I teased.

He pretended shock, and reached to remove my glass. My hand flew out to stop him.

"Despite my 'innocent' look, I've been getting served since I was 15. Must be all those lechers trying to take advantage of me." I took a sip of wine and smiled appreciatively.

He laughed. "I don't blame them, if you go out looking like that. You look like you belong here." He waved his arm around the room. "I thought you might like something Victorian."

"Always! It's my favorite style. If the food is as wonderful as the surroundings, and this wine," I declared, "you can do what you want with me!"

He gazed at me intently. "I hope the chef will fulfill our wishes."

My mouth suddenly went dry, and I could feel the heat blossoming inside me again. Flustered, I took another sip of wine, scolding myself to slow down.