Astoria

I blame the papers for this. I read the local rag that day- and I never read the paper- to find his face pressed to another woman's. At a seafood festival, no less. Oysters. It figures, I know.

When I had him, he was just... a child. Being two years younger in high school together shouldn't have made him jailbait, but he was. He wanted and clung to me, but a Cockney man had claimed me (sort of) before he arrived out of nowhere (if nowhere is Queens). Why should I want to possess this boy ten years later, a man now? The dark, tumbled mess of hair he'd grown made me want to pull it, pull him by it into an alley and teach him what all those boys (and a few girls) had taught me.

I tracked him down. He let his phone number tumble out one night, and half-conversations flew between us for weeks. Not enough, really. Is there ever enough before complete surrender?

He got hold of me Sunday morning before Yule, about to board the train a track over to Manhattan. The normal wary smiles, teasing words, and predators' games struck sparks in me like I'd never felt from him before. The lips I found obscene at 16 had a man's voice behind them. He invited me back to his place for what we knew wasn't coffee.

We toured his apartment, the one I'd seen in his girlfriend's photographs, under the watchful, devious eye of their small spotted kitten. The tidy well-stocked kitchen, the bedroom, the Christmas tree in the heart of it hiding the view of concrete streets. The conversation we had in his living room started to make my head hurt- "I don't know who you are now," more of that filler. Important, but filler just the same. We had some very unfinished business and we didn't have to solve it by talking. So I took a gamble and kissed him, fingering the box of mistletoe in my pocket to keep my too-eager hands busy. I'd convinced myself it was appropriate as a housewarming gift: "for your new life with a sweet girl" my clever little card read. Now as I relearned lips I last pressed a lifetime ago, wicked things sprang to mind. He tasted sweet, still young as I'd thought he might. The full mouth I remembered, with more blissful urgency to it, more force. Less asking and far more demanding. Luscious. He gasped first as I bit his bottom lip. We'd circled around each other before, and in that moment I knew why. A kind of spreading fire took to my legs, made us both shake.

"I should have done this years ago," I mouthed into his neck, and lay him out slowly along the couch. Stupid pull-over jumper, ridiculous shirt and prep-school winter layers. I worked up under them, down his belt. He let out a low moan, a yelp really, and jumped up to take refuge across the room in a desk chair tucked by the tree.

"She'll be home soon, I can't... I can't do this," he whined. He wasn't telling me, though, he was pleading. Weakness and lust; irresistible.

"Of course not. And you wouldn't do this now if you had ten years ago. She'll just have to play along with us if she does come back," I shrugged, loping over to spin his chair to me. I wove one leg and the other into the chair's arms, the way I'd played on swings with him. He couldn't move. I kissed him again, teasing this time, refusing argument. Laughing, I pulled back his shirt to kiss along his shoulders, ran my hand along his arm. He was so light for Italian, a pale Northern boy with muscles gently firm under his smooth skin. Not a virgin, but damn near virgin skin. I liked this.

I peeled his jumper from him, mussed the curls he'd grown so wisely since last time. Perfect tousled waves, soft as I put a curious hand to them. He shook a little then, and I gently nudged his ears. I knew his conflict, saw the confusion, but I still wasn't letting up. We owed each other this, and it had nothing to do with her.

The grip he had on the chair started to loosen a little, as if his hands were making a decision the rest of him refused to. Maybe it would lessen his guilt to be victim, to be seduced and bound. So I murmured "stay there," and pushed his hands back on the chair's arms. Reaching over, I unwound the lights off the tree, as they gave up blinking and became loops of twine around his wrists. Nestled in the branches, I tied him to the chair with sailor's knots. Evergreen needles caught in his hair, and stuck to my stockings. Very deliberately, carefully, I wrapped the wire along his arm, bound him to the thin metal bar. Each place I marked with my lips before laying the thin green rope (after a fashion) to his skin. He was part bewilderment, part anxious desire, and his eyes widened as his predicament registered separately with his body and brain. Half tied to the chair, festively at my mercy, we fast approached the point where he could do nothing I didn't want of him.

My mind read this and it wet my lips to think of driving him mad this way. Half yes, half no was how I'd wanted him all along. Looking anguished and ravenous, he had his choice before him. Raising the bar unfairly, I turned around to wriggle out of my skirt, leaving me in blood-colored lace, seamed stockings and garters. My little round ass I left in his lap, sliding it slowly around to find his head- and to see which of his two would win. His jeans responded first, before his mouth formed another protest. Whatever his conscience thought of it, whatever his moral dilemma, his body agreed.

I slid my shirt down my shoulders as I reached for a few prickly things. The tree was good enough to oblige with a few sprigs not hung with ornaments, and I trailed them along his forearms, then his collar, then his other arm as I bound it down. Always teasing with a kiss, firing us both as I set to work, I left his chest free. I wanted to play with him, test him, and his breath changed in such satisfying ways when it rose and fell. I left him unbound there, to watch the way his back arched as he moaned. Pulling the soft velvet of my vest down the pale of his chest, I dispensed with his belt. Its metal hit the floor as I picked off the buttons at his fly and followed the curve of his hips south with my hands.

His prick rose beautifully at the touch, and I wrapped a hand around it to pull gently. A good size, I thought to myself, as I felt what I'd missed the first go-round. Licking my other palm, I worked my knees to the floor and stroked him with it, slowly. I wanted my mouth on him. Gripping his jeans, I pulled them down enough to work his dick free and ran my tongue around the tip. Another lick up the front, and my breath lightly on the very end, a deep moan escaped him. Good. Maybe I'd let him beg for release.

The back of my throat kept him slick enough to slide down and softly nip with my teeth, all the nerves in his head like strings to be deftly plucked. I tasted a small salt pool as he fought orgasm, and I swallowed knowing he couldn't last much longer. Looking up into his eyes, I pouted "but maybe you don't want to do this now. I mean, she could come home..." and moved to back away.

"FUCK ME... oh, god, come... here..." he growled through ragged breaths. The force in his voice made me want to fuck him right then, but I just smiled as my cunt throbbed, waiting for him.

I looked innocent as possible, feigned ignorance, as I shook off my shirt, grabbed a condom, and ambled back. "Well I just thought you'd want a break. Silly me," I sighed as I leaned over him. The words were just out when he kissed me, hard, and drew blood from my lip. With my pulse now at warp speed, I quickly straddled him. Hell, I wasn't going to last much longer. My lips slick and too ready, I ripped my panties to one side. He slammed into me, bucking in the chair to meet my body. Without free hands, he braced in his binding and fucked like the 'Italian stallion' he'd claimed. He nipped at my neck, biting down on my collarbone to secure me as he drove further into me. Spurred by the screams he got from me, he let loose a rumbling sound in his throat, and as I panted and rode him harder, I felt him tense to cum. "Not without me" I thought, but as I moved to get off him, he thrust to fill me, so far beyond control that I went off in orgasm. Wet and shaking, hungry and sweaty and insatiable, my whole body throbbed as he spilled into me. Turning to whisper in his ear, my hands unwinding the lights, I breathed "mine now. My turn."