Silver Jail

Anthony watched some videogames, located under the TV stand. He sat on the floor, not on his knees, as Naomi watched, with her arms crossed and absorbed in silent contemplation of the new epicenter of her love life. He didn't reach the cartridges which were kept cds or dvds. The chair was empty, like a throne waiting for her. The series ran its course with another chapter, and the other guy was looking mesmerized. Her housemate was lying like a cat on him, slowly moving her fingers over her man's chest, and with eyes closed, but opened them and stared at Naomi, and then slowly moved her gaze to Anthony, then back to her friend and smiled maliciously. It was not for the first time she did this ritual, and used to mean something like "Envy? I'm sorry, honey. If you were not so rare with your dates... "This time, however, it seemed an invitation to imitate them.

Anthony looked quickly back and peered his nymph legs. He scratched his chin, thinking about how to make everything turned out fine, but without knowing what would consider "fine". He took one game and opened the case. Void. There was no answer, but he expected at least to find a polished surface that reflected him self in order to see his face.

Naomi sat down and took advantage of her prey who a few inches farther was fun, to think about the most suitable position. Automatically she had crossed one leg over the other, and slowly swung her right foot. The lemon yellow slipper (a bit tatty compared to the rest of her clothing) would slide for several minutes for her instep to be suspended at the tip. Never fell entirely. She slowed the pace of the swaying, until it becomes a pendulum clock, and steepled her fingers in a gesture typical of operetta villain, but the chair was somewhat wider than ideal and she was a little ridiculous with her elbows on the air like a chubby kid who just have tea. She could rectify and support her wrists in the arms of that damn chair just a second before Anthony draw back, almost without lifting his bottom, and support the back in front of the chair.

Naomi thought that luckily he had not seen her do that rude gesture, and Anthony cursed his lack of foresight, because before crawling to the place he considered appropriate for that puzzle, had forgotten to leave the game and had to put on his thighs a time after have crossed the legs.

His hair was tempting, certainly, but Naomi was able to contain herself for a while. The swaying rhythm of her foot and leg was an ordeal for him, and to concentrate on the series almost impossible. If you had asked, Anthony did not know what they were seeing.

The housemate turned off the light, and everything fell into darkness, the one that light up the magical television screens.

Finally, the chapter finished, and, to everyone's surprise, was the other guy who said he wanted to go to sleep. Do not even hinted. He touched his girl, who joined alarmed, and stood up quickly. Then he took her hand and said:

-We are going now, but you can stay to sleep here, you know. Well, if Alice and Naomi do not care. -

The colossal absurd had exploded, releasing tension ignored, with the state of that unwelcome guest. The girls, of course, thought it, but it was quite an impact. However, none said anything, and they both smiled without looking at each other. Sometimes, even often, male rudeness saved pitfalls wich few feminine filigrees could have dodged.

They did not say, but the couch was free. Good thing they did not say, because neither Naomi nor Anthony wanted to change that their picture. They had been well, seeing the opening credits of the series and then the dvd menu screen, without further problems. He crawled a bit and took out the disk, changing it for another. He did not even realize it was the last. He returned, this time from the front, to his site, actually beside the chair, and leaned his head against the armrest. Naomi interrupted her swing until Anthony was again accommodated. Once there, she continued her hypnotic tick, whose effect known perfectly.

Anyone would have said they were at a standstill, but in fact was the opposite. Whether because there was not the presence of their friends (who even if never said anything about what had happened, they would have bothered the protagonists of our romance with their thoughts), or because the situation was clearly and forcefully intimate, a non-stop journey to the tortuous courtship had been initiated by them.

She acted first. Wanted to make herself sure that this was not another adventure weighed down by prejudice, and so she ran her hand by his arm, dragging her long nails on his bare skin. It was a subtle touch of a impossible to determine length, a free sample of scratch to mark her prey in a indelible way. Other predators, especially that Carol, would not see the mark, but he had noticed it, and as he look at anothers, they would know that he was owned.

He shuddered. The silence was on the side of her, his lady,

-It was ... - and sighed expressively.

If Naomi wanted gruesome stories of broken love and hearts, that was really promising. Never, she could swear, had heard a sigh so sad and beautiful. She knew exactly what he meant, and she calibrated, amazed that anyone could have as much control of himself after having been so shattered so recently, the precise degree of modern tragedy that his previous relationship had become to. She expected something, perhaps a cat purring topic, or a gaze of adorable gratitude and devotion, but that far exceeded her touch. He had stripped emotionally without her ask, raising the bets of their relationship to near the top. Could not contain herself and put her fingers into his hair. To comfort, relieve him, she wanted above all let him know she was there, accepting his surrender. He closed his eyes for a while, letting pet. Pressed the off button on TV. The DVD kept running, with its mechanical and light sound accompanying the digital clock.

-I like you.-

They said, or heard, at once, unaware that they themselves had said. At last he looked, standing on his knees before her. Anthony counted the number of swings and was approaching. Her hand was tangled in his hair, but it also pushed him forward. There was no possible recoil.

On the tenth swing, Naomi stopped her leg. Closed her eyes, leaned forward and clasped her lips to his.

The slipper has never fallen before, but that night was a glorious exception. What else happened? You know, I think, the players perfectly, so we can allow ourselves to let tedious (if they seemed so to you) explanations that were necessary for dealing with guarantees of credibility the picture below.

Daylight was filtered as when Romeo woke up next to Juliet. Anthony was feeling good about himself and the world. He had found his lady and loved her. And do not ever want to leave her side, throwing himself into the cold arms, dead, of that other bitch who had held him prisoner for what seemed too many ages. The comfortable plush-lined handcuffs became a release, with their sharp and playful "click", from all that baggage of bad memories. The drug had failed to show him a way out when he needed, nor the thug life, wishing to escape from anything but himself and the Carol's poison poured every day into the cup of their relationship. Instead, under the thousand scratches from Naomi, he had seen a thousand doors opened to the lyrical epic of love. And Naomi was inviting him with a kiss or a warm blow of her sweet breath, to explore them all right after opening wide with her tigress claws.

She had made him hers as much as could in just one night. Still felt him, in the pre awakening dozing, within her, indomitable, strong, filling and arching to go deeper into. She rode relentless, forbidding him coming down the rhythm with severe spurs. She even had to cover his mouth to moan not too high when gripped, in her first orgasm, her legs to his waist. She knew it was not her best fuck, though it was very good, but in fact that relieved her: if it was not the best was because it could improve, and much, under her tutelage. Would force him to experiment with her, pulling, shock if necessary, his full potential, repressed (she had noticed it) about the situation and because, he had confessed so shortly after ejaculating, he could not believe what was happening. It would not have minded to Naomi that Alice and her boyfriend had heard them. She then would have made her housemate squirm with envy as she saw her, radiant, winning, undisputed amazon and once again proud (and with the prospect of returning to the battle of the bed with the same guy), but she respected Anthony shyness. As for the other point, did not feel more proud than she already was, and thought that a somewhat childish confession like that should also be corrected. What she wanted, and was going to get, modeling and extracting the virtues of Anthony with the chisel of her lustful and passionate imagination, was a completely prancing stallion, the perfect stud to bring by the reins of her touch and the bridle of her gaze.

Anthony loved her. Really. Would she do the same? He saw her there now, at his side, curled, and he was happy just to be around. Wanted to note her head on his chest and so would hear his heart beating so strong and sincere about her, but not everything could be always perfect, and accepted that the ideals were mere chimeras, much less valuable, after achieved, that the intrinsic and raw reality that just noticed: He was madly in love.

Naomi, newly awakened, masturbated herself. Rubbed her thighs against the sheet, back to him, and trying to prevent him discovered she was no longer asleep, but taking pleasure. She achieved it quickly, and even surprised that the orgasm came so easy, which in the morning it used to resist. She also thought, as held the wail of absolute sensual delight, that was cruel and selfish not to share it with Anthony, but the inertia of years waking up alone and wishing to have expected at least to his sometime lover had failed miserably to make her tremble before firing him with some cruel invective, overcame her very natural desire to share with him the feeling that overflowed. And she reproached, without succession of continuity, in her heart that he did not embrace her after reaching climax. The slight mirth wich came to her when remembered that she had left him handcuffed to the bed and therefore it would have been a prodigy that he could hug her close, it was the clue that revealed to Anthony that she was not asleep.

-Will you free me?-

Naomi looked at him. Should be 12 noon and that made him more beautiful, almost angelic. His teddy bear would not go anywhere if she did not want, and even when he have been released, she knew he would be at the other end of the strap, invisible, with which she had secured him. Maybe (she craved) he would throw a bit of it, to test whether she was holding it, or that he wanted to play the delightful game where Naomi always cheated. Then she would teach him the rules of that game, confess in mock shame (or was it real?) how much did it measure that belt of feelings, where was the key to the handcuffs, so at the last moment, and when he thought he had won, change completely everything: the game, belt and her candid modesty by a devilish grin. She was the schoolmarm, and was willing to teach a few lessons to make him understand that would never gain her approval, but if he humbled himself and prayed... it would be even worse for him! If Naomi proved to be riper, at least in that moment, than Anthony, was having in mind that there was no end to find, but a path, or many, to go, even in more ways than one and more than once.

He sniffed her excitement as she went, like a lioness, until the headboard of the bed, at his side. Could not saying whether she was receptive to a new assault against her fortress was not sufficient reason for not trying it. He kissed her chest while she was working the closures of the shackles.

-Keep calm- she said with a condescending tone as untrue that the next thing he did, after a calculated pause to make her doubt if he would obey, against the wishes of both, the order, was to seize a nipple with his lips. Naomi groaned, cursing her lack of control. Wanted to extend a little more the waiting, exasperating him to the limit, but this sudden reaction, though pleasant, had surprised her. Now he knew she was still wet. It would cost, she said to herself with sorrowful resignation, an extra effort to punish such a daring that had embarrassed her, and perhaps given him hopes (and it was too early to think about such switchings) of dominating and having her as a slut in heat. What's worse is that the "failure" was not his: it was her.

-Earn your breakfast, slave. - she said curtly when had dropped the other handcuff, and Anthony surprised her again, forcing from his side (she had been a little naive to think that only she could cook on low heat) the rope from which both pulled.

-I am not of those who allow themselves to be won, you know - he said, smiling, and got up to go to the kitchen, but did not leave the bed. Naomi caught him before and, no more considerations, buried his head in her crotch. She needed to do it again, right now.

While Anthony scouted and was busy in the privacy of his nymph, she mused about the hard work which was before trying to tame her boyfriend.

She was in love. To the bottom and without conditions.