Reciprocal Affection

Time after time he pushed my trembling body to its limits of pleasure. When I thought I was exhausted and could take no more he'd prove me wrong by teasing my hypersensitive clit and gaping pussy in a different manner; experimenting with hot and cold breaths, licks, laps, taps, circles, fingers; an endless array of heavenly contact. Some time during play he had even introduced my trusty Silver Shadow vibrator, slipping it in and out of my pulsing, drenched channel while his tongue was taking a short rest and his eyes conveyed sheer delight at the smell and flavour of my intoxicating, horny fluid. In the end I had to practically beg him to stop for fear I'd have turned inside out.

Spread beneath the table in the meeting room I flicked my clit slowly yet insistently at the memories, gently raising the heat in my body degree by degree. My legs were twitching a little as I brought myself closer. Thankfully the chairs were of a dark material or the juice dribbling down my smooth lips and pooling on the back of my skirt might have seeped through and stained. Despite my original self-assurance that I would only indulge in a little pleasure, I found myself gliding towards an inexorable climax. I really was at the mercy of my touches; an extension of being at the mercy of Adam's. The warmth of the memories and sheer wickedness of the situation -- bringing myself off undetected in a room of people I knew -- had me teetering on the cusp of orgasm faster than I could have predicted.

Then calamity struck. My boss' presentation ended and he raised the lights. No! So damn close. Adrenaline surged through my body -- the fight or flight gene clamping down my erogenous zones tightly. I whipped my hand from my pussy without time to snap my panties back in place or wipe the juice from my fingers. Using my forearms I dragged myself upright in the chair, shuffling my skirt down as far as I could in the process, and tried to look composed. Suddenly I could smell my heavy arousal and panicked. Christ, would the others notice? I hoped not and sat fidgeting for the remaining few minutes of my boss' summary.

The attention I had given my body before the interruption jumbled my senses and thoughts of Adam's unselfish act still drifted around my mind. I tried to focus on the meeting but unwittingly tuned Gerry out and recalled the final detail of the previous evening: Adam had wanted nothing in return. Once I stopped him from stimulating my insides he simply spooned me, hugged and stroked me to a blissful sleep. Truly one in a million. Well I was going to make sure to repay his kindness today. And I couldn't cope with an afternoon in the office while my body was wound up to this level. With my exposed pussy tingling right there in the meeting room I hatched a plan, inwardly smiling at its simplicity. The teen in me grinned wickedly too.

At the eventual conclusion of the meeting I engaged my boss:

"Still OK for me to leave early today? Remember: that gynae appointment?" It was a lie, but probably wouldn't be far from the truth by the time I was through with Adam.

Gerry furrowed his brow in recollection, clearly not remembering anything about our fictitious conversation, but chose to let it slide; one of the fringe benefits of having a stressed and overly trustworthy boss when it came to 'women's issues'.

"Sure. You OK? You look a little... flustered."

I coloured. "Been a long week and I'm a tad nervous about this appointment."

He stared and anxiety wracked my body, but I tried not to let it show. I prayed his bullshit detector was broken, and that he couldn't smell my exposed pussy from this proximity. It seemed the Gods were smiling.

"Have a good weekend. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

It was his stock phrase: if he knew what I had planned it might well convince him to choose a new one. But I thanked him and quickly left for home to wait for Adam.

The kitchen clock ticked ever forward, slowly. He was late, and I was turned on despite -- or in spite of -- my nerves. Even the occasional doubting thoughts of "what if he had a bad day" didn't sway me. Carpe diem: I wanted this. I'd make him want it too, if I had to.

My pussy still clamoured for attention, but after snapping my panties back into place in the car I had somehow persevered at keeping my will power intact since arriving home. It would make the ultimate release all that more delicious.

His key grated in the lock. Show time! I heard rustling in the hallway behind me. Approaching footsteps. Then silence.

I could hear Adam breathing but gave it a few seconds longer to let it sink in. The look on his face was priceless as I demurely glanced over my shoulder at him, greeting him with a casual "Hi honey". He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, goldfishing, eyes wide at the sight before him.

I was cooking, stirring the bubbling saucepan. Nothing strange about that in itself -- I cooked regularly -- except that from where Adam stood he'd have seen me wearing my absolute favourite Louboutin four-inch heels, some gorgeous dark hold-ups with a wide band that hugged my slender thighs and a pink vinyl apron tied around my waist at the back. Nothing more.

"Dinner won't be long," I cheerily announced and returned to stirring the pasta sauce.

Strictly unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, the apron was a functional rather than cosmetic addition to my limited apparel: it saved my breasts from being splashed by the hot food on the stove. But equally it added to the allure of the housewife role play. From his rear vantage point, Adam would simply see the top of the hold-ups clinging to soft white thighs, giving way to my shapely naked bottom with the pink bow of the apron's straps draped over it from the small of my back. The only other evidence of the apron from where he stood was the neck strap. My entire back was bare, touched only by my long black hair that tumbled around half its length.

It excited me to consider what Adam must be thinking; what he might try and do to me, knowing my state of undress and the fact I'd worn it solely for him. Well, maybe for me too. He'd guess I was horny and, had the cooking not been masking it, I'm quite sure the room would have smelled of my sweet, wet pussy. In fact, the aroma had probably been on Adam's face all day -- a constant reminder of the night before. Had his co-workers picked up on it? His boss? What would they think of us if they knew? My nipples rose proud of my full bosoms and pressed against the inside of the apron in response to my naughty thoughts. The apron was lined, which was a small mercy, but still felt cool in the places where it brushed my body.

Adam entered the kitchen, dumping his bag by the door and stepped behind me. He snaked his arms around my waist underneath the apron and pressed his body to me, nuzzling his cleanly shaven face into my neck. I purred and could feel he was already aroused. He tried his luck, running his hands forward over my hips and down, trying to slip his fingers between my legs. I squeezed them shut.

"Uh uh. Not yet. We eat first."

"No fair! Not even a little taster?"

"You had more than a little taster last night. It's my turn."

He paused. "What if I did this?"

Dropping to his knees behind me, he slid his hands around to my buttocks, parted my cheeks and ran his tongue tantalisingly from the base of my clenched pussy up over my crinkled rosebud, swirling around the entrance to my dark passage. I sighed quietly but kept my resolve.

"Don't think you can get round me that way, mister."

"Oh? Not even if I..."

He ran his tongue again up my tight crack, spending a few seconds flitting his long, gifted organ over the nerve endings around my anus. Then he stiffened his tongue and slid it inside the entrance, probing my chute just how I like it. Repeatedly. Unhurriedly. Dirtily. I gripped the worktop and involuntarily pressed my bottom into his face, loving his nether touches; loving the fact that he was a slave to my derriere and I could dominate his world by simply being me, yet mindful that I was in turn a slave to my own needs. Needs that Adam filled. Needs that gave him purpose and excited him. Yin and yang; alpha and omega. Mutual desires fulfilled through a single act. My inner teen never knew such depravity during her innocent youth, but she was delighted to experience it now.

Damn, he knew what he was doing; knew exactly what made me tick. Within thirty seconds I simply couldn't concentrate on cooking any longer and shut off the stove. "You drive a hard bargain."

He plucked his tongue from my anus. "A hard something at least."

I smiled. With a little improvisation my plans could still work. But I needed things on my terms. Whirling around I dragged him up from the floor so we were level. Our eyes locked for a few seconds and our lips followed suit. The kiss was deep, sensual, and crackled with passion. I tasted my muskiness and I'm sure faint traces of my pussy from the night before, and it warmed me to know he'd taken pleasure in obtaining both.

The act of dressing up for him in such scant clothing, the thoughts of the previous evening that had plagued me all day, the sheer indecency of secretly masturbating at the office, and of what we were about to do had already charged me to melting point. Wetness had formed inside my pussy long ago and it was now being continually topped up -- drip-fed with my horny secretions -- by our smouldering kiss.

His hands slid around my body and found my buttocks again, squeezing me to him so I could feel his growing manhood against my midsection. I crossed my arms behind his neck and held him to me as our tongues duelled and pulses raced. Butterflies feathered my insides and, keeping our lips tightly locked, I let go of him.

Fumbling urgently between us on sexual autopilot I yanked the buckle of his belt free before unsnapping his trousers and lowering his zip. Driving my hand against his crotch I rubbed his length, already pointing up at me, engorged and ready. Even through his boxers it felt wonderful beneath my touch: firm, thick, willing, manly. I shuddered as I imagined it ravaging my insides, thrusting deeply into my wet channel, seeking my hidden depths as I screamed for more.

Later, girl. Later.

But later couldn't come soon enough to my pining insides. In a way I was glad he'd forced my hand, as it were; I doubt I could have made it through dinner without clambering onto the table, crawling over to him with a wicked glint in my eye, sweeping the dishes aside and dropping into his lap, letting his hardness split and fill my rampant pussy as I rode us to thunderous orgasm while his hands kneaded my bosoms roughly beneath the apron.

Hurriedly I crouched and pushed his trousers down his blond-haired legs so they pooled at his feet, allowing him to step out of them. Kneeling on the floor I was now facing his crotch, the mushroom-shaped outline of his circumcised head clear against the tight material. I reached for the waistband, tucked my fingertips inside and looked up at him coyly, knowing he wouldn't stop me, merely demonstrating my intention and allowing his imagination to run wild. His boyish smile pleased me.

He'd be wondering if I was going to jack him off, allowing his thick cum to splatter onto the vinyl apron. Or maybe I'd direct his sperm over my face, letting it splash against my lips and coat my cheeks, running down over their soft surface before dripping to the apron and onto my hold-ups. Perhaps he thought I might take him into my mouth, sucking feverishly until I let him come down my throat, exaggeratedly swallowing for his visual pleasure. Or maybe I'd lie on my back and use first my heels on his raging prick and then have him remove my shoes leaving just my stockinged feet on his length, jerking him off with the same soles and toes he had worshipped the night before, until he shot his sticky seed over my silky feet and legs. I could see his eyes furtively searching mine for a clue, trying to read my expression. But I remained guarded. He would soon find out.

With one fluid motion I pulled his underwear out, over and down to the floor. His cock sprang free and danced inches from my face. So thick and powerful. I grabbed the bobbing shaft, closing my fingers around his warm circumference, steadying him for my hungry gaze, just watching the head flare as I squeezed rhythmically and gently.

The veins pulsed beneath my fingers, blood forging in every few seconds to keep him erect for me. I loved just to watch how it reacted to the tiniest of my movements, how it would grow momentarily steely with the odd breath blown across his sensitive bare glans, the shaft alternating between hard and rock hard. To have around six inches of Adam's manhood at my disposal and knowing he loved me making a fuss over his cock made me dizzy with lust. Yet despite part of me wanting to tease him some more -- the way he had me -- the excitement of the day won and I began the next step of my plan.

Keeping my petite hand wrapped around his length, I ducked my head to his wrinkled, shaved scrotum and ran my tongue over its surface. His balls were up, tightened against his body, leaving his sac resembling two compact walnuts. The feeling of the rippled, hairless skin against my tongue made me hum with delight which in turn caused him to gasp. And when I drew one of his naked balls into my wet mouth, whirling my tongue over it, he moaned loudly. I treated the other to the same, nibbling its ridged surface with my lips and taking great satisfaction in his lust filled words of encouragement.

From my kneeling, submissive position, I gazed upwards as I kissed, licked and caressed his balls, every now and then squeezing his hard shaft, feeling its firm resistance. I'd learned from when he made me lap dance for him that eye contact was everything and, since then, I'd become a Zen master at it. Just a sultry look, a flash of my green eyes, or a wide-eyed, full-on stare held for a little longer than necessary was enough to take a simple sexual act and magnify its effect tenfold. Eyes don't lie and when I'm turned on or like what I see, Adam says my pupils dilate. They must have been enlarging just then because I saw my boyfriend smile down at me and breathe out heavily, accompanied by a jolt in his manhood. I felt it widen my grip briefly as it swelled and I continued to gaze into his deep, hazel eyes.

Playing power games was a new thing for us. Not into fully realised dom-sub territory, but more subtle. At that moment I was clearly playing submissive, on my knees before him, powerless should I overstep the mark and he took control. Yet at the same time I held all the authority because he was slave to my actions and fiery stares. One wrong move on his behalf and I could make him pay: give pleasure or take it away from him. I found it such a trip; the duality of roles; the simultaneous feeling of dominance and subservience as I slowly began to slide my curled hand up and down his hard shaft, feeling each ridge as the skin rippled over the firm muscle beneath, the scant wisps of pubic hair above his pole tickling my fingers on the in stroke. My pussy dribbled a little sweet nectar onto my smooth lips, and the cooler air of the room dried it; a tiny pinprick of cold on my otherwise hot sex.

As my actions on his cock continued, languid yet intense, his eyes fluttered in appreciation and he sighed. I knew I had him right where I wanted.

It was time.

I slowly released his tool from my grip and kissed my way up his shaft, still maintaining eye contact whenever possible. The kisses were tender, causing his meat to bob and sway with each touch. At his tip I blew cool air gently over the head and eased back a little. My hands ran down his firm thighs, over his calves and then I traced my fingers across to my own body, feeling the silky smooth material of the hold-ups against my trim thighs. I was desperate to touch my pussy; to bury my hand between my legs and bring myself off for him; to watch his expression as I sawed my fingers in and out of my slippery tunnel, mouth open, panting steadily and more insistently as my orgasm rose until I came hard beneath his searing gaze. But that was for another day.

Instead, my hands remained on course along my body, bypassing my hot centre, tracing the contours of my shapely hips. I brushed my fingers up my sides just beneath the apron, continuing their journey around behind me, over my sensitive bare buttocks causing a little sigh to escape my lips, and eventually coming to rest at the small of my back. With my eyes still boring deeply into Adam's soul, the final part of the act was the pièce de résistance which I had practised earlier in front of the bedroom mirror: I crossed my wrists, clasped my hands together, pushed my arms downward as far as I could and knelt there, breathing steadily.

Total submission.

The position of my arms caused my breasts to thrust outward beneath the apron, giving the vinyl shape. I felt vulnerable yet exhilarated. The tip of his hard cock was millimetres from my lips. My warm breath played over its flared end and it nodded in appreciation. For a long moment Adam and I held each other's stares until slowly, almost imperceptibly I began to open my mouth.

The taste of his cock was exquisite as first his mushroom glans and then the smooth body of his pole slid into my hot mouth. Pre-come had already formed at its end and I savoured its sweetness against my tongue as I moved my head inexorably towards the base of his prick. I'd never been capable of deep-throating without gagging so there was still a good inch or so of his tool protruding from my lips when I reached the extent of my forward motion.

His eyes closed as I breathed out in satisfaction. When they opened I was still there staring up at him, lips stretched around his shaft, with a puppy-dog, demure, expression that I knew drove him crazy with lust. His breath was catching in his throat and I could sense he desperately wanted to thrust his manhood into me; fuck my mouth with wild abandon, grabbing the back of my head and forcing me to swallow his entirety. But respect of the power balance meant he stayed exactly where he was, waiting patiently for my next move, both of us aroused by our simultaneous acts of restraint.

Slowly I brought my lips back, dragging them up over his shaft the way I had gone, feeling him slip from me, his glans catching ever so slightly against my teeth. My lips closed as he exited fully and I kissed the tip of his prick then pushed forward again, mouth smaller than it needed to be so his cock head was forced into me, shaped to fit. The feeling of his hot, hard tool squeezing its way past my lips brought another surge of moisture deep from within my body, oozing down my soaking channel and appearing at my slick entrance.

Gripping my hands tightly behind my back I continued with slow strokes, gliding his steel into my warm mouth, stopping short of full length then bringing my head back, allowing him to fully exit before pushing forward to maintain a steady rhythm. With each forward thrust I swallowed as much of his meat as I could manage, swirling my tongue over its surface on the return journey. The steamy looks we were giving each other the whole time elevated the experience and my tummy churned with delight as every one of my senses was heightened. Desire and satisfaction registered on Adam's features, his mental arousal clear had the physical signs not been so obvious.

Tilting my head sideways to alter the angle of approach, feeling his hardness press into my cheek before it was deflected to the back of my wanton mouth, I caught sight of my reflection in the oven door. Wow! I resembled some wonderfully dirty whore, kneeling there almost naked in my heels with my hands clasped tightly behind me, the swell of my chest jutting the apron towards Adam's legs as I repeatedly swallowed and released his manhood from my lips. No wonder he was so hard for me: from his viewpoint I was both stunning and obscene.