The After DancebyEuphonic©
THE AFTER DANCE
It was a lovely early evening of dancing and cocktails. We didn't eat a full meal, just a few appetizers, and then we left early. I couldn't understand why John wanted to leave so early. I was having fun. The live music was great and being guided around the dance floor by John's strong arms, having him spin me away, then pull me back to him. It was getting me wet. Now we're going home and the evening is still so young!
The car jostles me about in my seat as we navigate the windy road up to the house. Why are we so isolated here anyway? Oh yes, I enjoy the birds singing in the trees each season of the year. And the quiet contemplation away from the hordes of humans always wanting something from me on a daily basis. Ah, to be alone with my own thoughts just for an hour every now and then. That is why we live here.
I glance over at John. His face is still set in the 'dance mode' character. Revealing nothing of his emotions or desires. I know he is aroused, and yet his features tell nothing. Maddening. He is concentrating on driving, keeping us safe. Animals can come out of the woods suddenly and hitting a deer, raccoon or skunk is not a pleasant experience. And dangerous for us as well. I admire his conscience attention to the task at hand. He is so good at that. Even in bed. Oh yes, very conscience of what he is doing to me in bed and how it is making me feel as he does it. Bastard can make me crazed with desire and just keep denying me release until he wants me to cum. His way, his timing, his command. Just like dancing, leading me to where he wants me to go.
We arrive at the house. The car slowly ascends up the driveway. The garage doors open at our approach, recognizing our vehicle's electronic signature. He parks the car, shuts off the ignition. We look at each other, smile. Slowly he leans across the seats and plants a soft kiss below my ear. Then leaves his lips just hovering there, over my skin. His breath on the place he just kissed. The rhythm of his breathing in my ear. Just waiting. The anticipation of what he will do or say is making my breath quicken. Are we going to do it in the car?
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" he breaths slowly in my ear. Shivers go through my body. I am afraid to break the spell, and just nod my approval, yes.
"Hmmm. Well, my dear, now I want to enjoy you tonight." And with that his hand comes up, holds my chin, turns my face toward his own. Claims my mouth. Ardent. Hard. Demanding.
Crap, now I'm certain we're going to do it in the car.
For several minutes we kiss. All kinds of kisses. Soft, slow, long, fast, hard, deep, grazing kisses. And all he ever touches is my hair, face, neck. Traces his finger around my ear. Tugs my earlobe. Blows on my skin.
Now he undoes my coat. Pushes it open, revealing my heaving chest. Oh yes, I am panting. He's got my adrenaline going now. He has a plan alright. Now he's going to play with me, I know it.
I am wearing a wrap dress, the one that ends just below my knees. He doesn't like men admiring too much that which is his. I can dress in a manner that pleases him, but not so provocative that it draws leering stares from other men. He doesn't like their eyes on my ivory skin. Precious ivory. He prefers only his eyes on my skin, only his hands feeling the smooth texture. He knows ivory is in demand and the high price it can command. This ivory skin is his, and no one is going to enjoy it except him.
"I notice that tonight you wore the wrap dress that shows the shape of your body, the heft of your breasts, but little skin, and no cleavage. You did it to please me, didn't you?"
"Yes," I confessed. I knew he would like it.
He now kisses my neck as my head lolls about on my shoulders. Mmmm.
He tugs at the bow of my wrap dress. It comes undone, his fingers plucking at it, pulling the ties apart and opening up the dress. I am wearing a bustier underneath. With garters and stockings. I notice his pupils dilate. Oh yes, he certainly approves.
His hand strokes my flesh just below the lower edge of the bustier. I am wearing a lace tanga panty, and the garters are attached to the bustier. Lace tops on the stockings give a very nice overall effect. Stunning. I know.
"Hmmm," he purrs. "I want you out of that dress. Come on, off with it."
He puts his hands under the shoulders of the dress and pushes backwards, runs his hands down my arms and over my hands. The coat and dress are pooled around my waist now. I am now in undergarments and heels.
He admires me. Just looks. Says nothing. His use of silence is effective. Makes me nervous. More adrenaline pumps into my system.
His arm goes behind me, around my back. His hand cups the side of my far breast, his lips graze the top of the other breast.
"Lovely tits. My tits." he murmurs. "I want to play with my tits for awhile. You just sit back and relax."
Holy. This will make me nuts. He uses the word tits when he is lustful. He knows I prefer breasts. I hope he doesn't keep at me for twenty minutes like last time. I was so sensitive afterwards. He does like to nibble and pull on the nipples with his teeth. Tries to make them longer over time. It seems to be his hobby. I remember the mention of nipple rings, but I haven't seen them yet. Don't want to bring the subject up either.
It starts with the pulling down of the bra cups. Always the same, except when he decides to bite through the fabric and salivate on the cups until they're soaking wet. This is an expensive set of lingerie however, and I feel he wants me to wear it often. He actually is showing reverence for the garment, not his usual style. Most times he doesn't care about my clothing, just that it is in the way of his goals. Good thing he can afford to replace them.
After ten minutes I am blessed with the cessation of all his nipple and breast activities. Whew. He gently adjusts the bra cups to cover his tits. My clit must be huge after being bombarded with so many electrical shocks from the breasts being stimulated. Over and over and over again. Doesn't his tongue ever get tired?
"Well, after that I certainly am thirsty. How about you my dear? I had the help set up the back gazebo with refreshments and a relaxing environment. Let's go now. You stay seated. I'll get the door for you."
Geesh. Will the help still be around? Watching? Not that he would care. He ignores them as they go about their chores. But he does treat them well financially. Even a health care plan. Nobody ever leaves of their own will from his employ. But he does fire incompetent people. Rarely happens, but it does happen.
The car door opens, and I put my two legs out, reach behind me for my dress.
"No, no my dear. Leave the dress. You will walk with me to the gazebo as you are."
"In lingerie?" I gasp. Okay, we can't be seen by the neighbors, but won't it be cold amongst the trees, in the dark?
"Anna, I will take care of you. You will see. Just walk with me...now."
The now word. His lips together, stern face, eyes glaring at me, hand outstretched.
I take his hand, he pulls me up. We walk out of the garage's side door, and head towards the rear of the house. Towards the gazebo.
What is this?
It is set up like a festive scene from the Arabian Nights. Long colorful flowing saris hanging from the beams. Soft middle eastern music playing on surround sound speakers placed around the site. A plethora of pillows of different shapes, sizes and colors scattered on the floor and around benches. This is quite amazing.
And it is warm. Propane outdoor heaters strategically placed here and there. My exposed skin is not cold. The soft lighting and flickering candles make the scene inviting and romantic.
"Shall I call you Sheik this evening, Sir?"
"Do you find me masterful and irresistibly charming?" he replies, smirking.
"Yes, yes I do. Especially right now."
"Lovely. But I prefer you call me John. Especially when you cum. Anna, when you cum for me tonight, and you will, you will call to me very loudly, and it will be my name. No other's. Mine."
I study him. His whole body is tense, focused. He knows what he wants, and it is me. Now. Tonight. Holy crap, I'm gonna get it. Big time.
I swallow hard. "Yes, Sir." I reply, then sheepishly look down. I think of prostrating myself to him, but on these outdoor bricks, it would ruin the silk stockings. He doesn't like that anyway. He only likes me on my knees, protected with pillows, while I orally stimulate his cock. He wants me comfortable so I can pleasure him this way for twenty minutes or more. He adores that, the caress of my tongue, the suction of my lips, a thermos of hot clear tea and a cup nearby. I periodically rehydrate myself and heat up my mouth with the tea. Makes my mouth very hot and when I put his dick inside all the way to the back of my throat, he groans so loudly my cunt just gushes.
I awaken to the here and now from my reverie. John is commanding my attention.
"Well, do you?" I hear him say.
"Uh, sorry Sir, I wasn't...I didn't hear the question."
My face turns puce. I hope I'm not in trouble.
"I asked you if you knew what day it was?"
"Um, it's April 22nd, Sir."
"Do you know what is celebrated on April 22nd?" John asks.
"No, I don't." I reply, uncertain as to where this is headed.
"Earth Day is celebrated today," he explains.
"Oh." I ponder this for a minute. "How is it celebrated?"
"Some people plant trees. However, we are going to celebrate with a tree."
I look at him quizzically. "With a tree?"
"Yes, but first, we'll eat."
He gestures to an area behind him where there are three hibachis set up. They all have hot coals. On a long table next to them are tongs, two cutting boards, two knives, plates, bowls and serviettes.
Bottles of wine, brandy, glasses, bowls of beef, cut vegetables and fresh fruit salad sitting on a bed of ice, along with bottles of water. A cappuccino machine, milk, soy milk and biscotti are also there.
"Come, help me cook our meal."
I walk over to help. As he slices Kobe beef and soaks it in some red wine, I am grilling fresh sliced pineapple on one of the grills. He takes some skewers that are soaking in water, and begins threading the vegetables and beef onto the skewers. As the kabobs grill on one of the hibachis, he bastes them with Moroccan spices. A bit of smoke wafts up as the drippings hit the coals. I place the grilled pineapple slices on a plate.
John places the grilled slices on a clean cutting board, picks up a clean knife and cuts them into triangular shaped pieces.
As he arranges the kabobs and pineapple on a plate, he asks me to pour some wine. I do so and bring the two glasses over to where he is now sitting, on a bench. There's a small table beside him.
I notice there is room for only one person. Where am I supposed to sit? I look left and right.
John tsk tsks.
"Come here," he says as he jerks his head in the direction he wants me to go.
"Put the glasses on the table, then sit in my lap facing the table."
I do as he instructs. Now he picks up a piece of pineapple with his fingers, and holds it up to my mouth.
I open my lips. He pops the morsel into my mouth, and I chew. As I chew, he strokes my lips with his finger. After I swallow, he gently says, "Every time you swallow, I want you to tilt your head back first. I want to see your throat muscles working. I like watching a woman that swallows," he says with a wicked grin on his lips.
"Do you want more?" he asks me.
I nod my desire, yes.
"Then suck my fingers clean, and I will feed you more."
After I eat one kabob of food, he says, "My turn." And now I am feeding him. Same routine. Back and forth, sips of wine, eat some food. Until we are both sated.
Eating with our fingers, and sucking each others fingers clean was so sensual, my mouth and my pussy are both salivating now.
John pulls me close, his mouth to my ear.
"You will satisfy another of my appetites" he says in a lustful manner.
He lifts me off his lap and puts me on the ground. "Come," he states with a twinkle in his eye, and I follow him into the gazebo.
Surrounded by billowing saris and colorful pillows, John begins a slow strip tease of removing his shoes, tie, jacket, shirt, pants, socks, undershirt and shorts. He is gloriously naked. Then he picks up a folded white linen garment, and puts it on. He has changed into Arab robes. Complete with contrasting belt, but no headdress.
He sits in an arm chair. There is a bottle of still water beside the chair on a small table. He tells me to bring as many pillows as will make me comfortable as I will be kneeling in between his legs. I gather up some pillows, and walk to him.
John opens his thighs, his erect pulsing cock batting against the linen of the robe. He adjusts his position, makes himself comfortable. I place the pillows on the floor between his knees, and lower myself to the floor.
"Drink some water first," he tells me. "I don't want you to have a dry mouth."
I gulp the water down. This means a twenty minute session or longer. I hope my jaw doesn't get tired.
"Do you want me to drink something hot first?" I ask him, never knowing what his mood will be when he wants the pleasure of my mouth.
"Not this time," he sighs. "Now, I just want the heat and feel of Anna on my dick."
I grin. This is actually a complement. Just me. Only me.
"My dear, this time, I am interested in the journey. Just take your time, don't worry about the destination. I want to enjoy the feel of you, the look of you, the sound of you...your scent. I want to see the desire for my cock in your eyes. I don't want you to deep throat me, darling. Not this time. You just ate. Just stimulate me with your wickedly talented mouth, lips, hands, eyes and sounds. I want to enjoy the experience without the expectation of orgasm. Just enjoy it. I now leave the production and choreography to you."
And with that he leans back and closes his eyes.
I pile the pillows on either side of his feet, then get on my hands and knees. I crawl towards him, looking up and watching him. He is still relaxed with his eyes closed, letting whatever I'm going to do be a surprise.
I crawl slowly, brushing his knee with one of my shoulders as I approach him, his inner thigh with the other. I keep going until my nose is right above his stiff cock under the linen. I inhale deeply. Several times. Loudly. He peeks at me. This is new.
As he looks at me, I start at the tip of his cock and inhale deeply all along the length of it. Lovely scent. Then I open my mouth, and start gently biting his gorgeous cock along its length, from the base to the tip. Then back.
His manhood jumps at each bite. New sensation. A little dangerous too. I can see his breathing quicken, his eyes dilate. Not the same old same old. I smile up wickedly at him.
"Ohhh," he moans as he shifts his hips backwards. Probably an instinctive reaction to protect his sensitive cock from my teeth. Ha. Scary. Good.
I do the entire length and back twice more. Different from using my hand to squeeze it through the fabric. Now I take the hem of his garment with my teeth, and raise it up. It takes a few minutes to get the robe up and out of the way with only my teeth. During this exercise, I am buffeting him with my shoulders and upper arms, as well as my face and head. He said he wasn't in a hurry, so I take my time. When I finally remove the last of the linen, his dick bobs up violently like a Jack in the Box. This makes the head a rapidly moving evasive target for my mouth to capture.
I just giggle and watch it write its desire in the air with its eye. Its playing hard to get. What a tease.
John's anticipation is making him antsy. I'm not acting anything like I usually do. So far nothing is routine. His breathing is erratic. I know that I am turning him on. Good. I watch as his cock swells even bigger.
This environment he's created has caused me to be transported to a zone where I've never been before. I feel like a middle eastern sex slave. A cherished and spoiled sex slave because, God, I love to suck cock. I want to suck his cock more than I want to breath. But he has said not to deep throat him tonight. The meal was recent, so I will comply.
I sit back on my heels and extend my arms outwards to his knees. Then I softly move my hands in light circles up his thighs to his balls. Then I start again, a little harder. Third time with my nails.
This time my left hand goes underneath his balls and massages the back. Also the place between his anus and his balls. He squirms. I am still ignoring his cock. It is settling down, now just twitching occasionally.
My right hand playfully tugs at his pubic hairs as my flat tongue starts on his balls and slowly licks up the length of the shaft to the V of the head. Then my lips kiss the front third of the head, and I start licking from his balls up to the V again. I do this again and again and again, all the while massaging his balls. He is losing himself to the sensation. I keep doing this until his mushroom head turns purple.
I position myself so my knees are a foot apart for balance, stick my ass in the air and concave my back. He now has a good view of my face, tits and ass. My body is presented in a curved feminine pose. He keeps scanning my body, returning to my face and lingering. I dare say there is love expressed on his face. Yes. He adores me.
My left hand cups his balls and lightly squeezes and releases. My right hand leaves his curly hairs and cradles his shaft. My lips finally start taking his dick head into my mouth. Not all at once. First a third, then release it. Then two thirds, and release. Then the whole head.
I use my tongue to poke at and tease the head's eye that wrote its desire for my mouth in the air at me earlier. I can almost hear it say "Ahhhh," as the liquid muscle of my tongue strokes and teases it.
"Mmmmm," I answer back.
Now I am synchronizing the rhythm of squeezing his balls, stroking the bottom third of his shaft and pumping the top two thirds of his shaft in and out of my mouth. I find the actions soothing and mesmerizing. I must have kept doing this for several minutes, but he didn't complain. When my jaw joints start to tire, I pop the head out of my mouth, and start hitting my cheeks with his stiff shaft. Smiling impishly at him the whole time.
Then I take the stiff member and put in on my throat. And start to hum.
As I rock my body gently back and forth, his cock approaches his belly, and then I pull it away. All the while humming. I see the tension going out of his back, his shoulders. All the stress from his work day just melting away. Intermittently I pop the head in my mouth and lave it with my tongue. Not forgetting the sensitive V area below the tip. Making the tip of my tongue hard and outlining the crease under the mushroom rim. Exploring the shape of the head, my mouth memorizing the shape of the head. The smooth top, the depression of the eye, the extension of the rim, the crease under the rim, the veiny feel of the shaft. The scent. The way it feels like a metal rod covered with dense foam.
John is enjoying this treatment. Sometimes his eyes are closed, sometimes looking at me through half open lids. His long lashes throwing shadows on his cheeks. His mouth slack, a little open, breathing steadily but changing to an erratic pattern depending on my administrations.
Now I put both hands on his shaft. My left hand just under the head, my right hand at the base of his cock. I grasp the shaft loosely and twist my wrists in opposite directions, then move my hands towards each other, then away. Twisting and stroking up and down, meeting in the middle of the shaft.
I watch his reaction. Pelvis shifting, lifting himself up off the chair with his arms, leaning forward a little. Oh, he is enjoying this new set of sensations. Not so relaxing anymore. Now more stimulating.