The Bodyguard

It was also something I'm good at. At the age of sixteen, I had completed the ski marathon, a grueling 42 km course running from Silverplana to Zuoz. We decided to do part of the course that day, the stretch from Pontresina to Chameusch. She seemed relieved that I was steering clear of the slopes. The prospect of spotting a potential threat in the midst of a couple of hundred bumbling skiers had obviously been troubling her.

I discovered in the course of the morning that she was a more than tolerable cross country skier. She cramped my style a little in the beginning, but a couple of kilometers into the course, she was keeping up easily, her limbs pumping smoothly. I suddenly realized that I was following her figure with something less than detachment. She was damnably attractive. I just hadn't allowed myself to notice that, probably because so far she had been busy either taking out people or talking about taking them out.

I thought I had worn her out with that run and that, once back in the chalet, she would drop with exhaustion. Apparently, it took more than that to wear her out. The damn woman wanted to work out in the gym and dragged me along when all I wanted to do was sink into a soft couch and vegetate for the rest of the day. I yielded, however, to her importuning. She seemed to have a very persuasive way about her. I set the walker to a desultory pace and began to amble, lost in thought, my eyes fixed in the distance. I sensed her presence beside me before I heard her voice.

"Are you even breaking a sweat?"

"Do I really have to?" I protested. I was quite content with the pace I was setting, a nice slow stroll through a country lane kind of pace.

She seemed unimpressed. She poked a finger into my bicep gingerly. She appeared determined to improve me.

"So why don't we spar for a couple of rounds?"

I thought she was joking. It soon became apparent that she wasn't. My mind was filled with visions of those two rather large men rolling around in agony on a snow covered pavement.

"Yeah, right!" I guffawed, "So you can land a foot in my groin or a knee in my face."

She inclined her head thoughtfully.

"Okay," she said brightly, "then we will wrestle."

"And how is that different?" I asked suspiciously.

"No punching or kicking. Only holds, grips and throws."

That didn't sound half bad. How much damage could she possibly do with that? I thought.

"Come on," she added, "I won't hurt you."

"Okay," I yielded, "just two rounds."

We circled each other warily. Her arms hung loosely by her sides. My arms were raised, my hands at the level of my shoulders. I was struggling to call to mind every image of wrestling I had ever seen. What do those Greco roman chaps do in the Olympics? She did look temptingly open. I decided to finally test my fate and leaned forward to grab her upper arms. She rocked backwards drawing me with her. After that, everything was a blur. But for the fact that my stomach was rising into my mouth ... or was it descending since my feet were clearly in the air ... I might have even enjoyed the sense of weightlessness. When the world settled, I was on my back on the mat, my throat trapped in the crook of her arm.

She shifted her arm to give me some room to breathe, but not nearly enough for me to feel overly comfortable. I quickly decided that resistance was futile. As my body slumped in her arms, I felt her relax. My lips were trembling as I drew in a lungful of air. I was about to flash her a relieved smile when I looked up into her eyes. What I saw there froze my lips. There was a gleam in her eye that I hadn't seen before, almost feral. I felt like prey.

She held me still for a moment and then leaned forward. Everything was happening in slow motion and the gap between her lips and mine seemed unbridgeable. But I finally felt it, those lips, unbearably soft, nibbling mine. I moaned at that delicate caress and my lips parted without my willing it. She sighed with satisfaction before gently drawing my upper lip between hers. She sucked on my wet flesh softly, flicking the inside of my lip with her tongue. I was floating in a daze. What she was doing to me felt wonderful and I didn't want it to ever stop.

She slowly released my upper lip, drawing the flesh out between her teeth before turning her attention to the lower one. I relaxed against her body as she cradled me softly in the crook of her arm. I was painfully aware of her -- of the tantalizing softness of her breasts against my chest, of the few wisps of her hair which had escaped from her ponytail and were drifting lightly over my face, of her fragrance, a heady combination of sweat and musk, all woman.

The tip of her tongue was flicking inquisitively against my teeth and I let her in. She explored my mouth leisurely, dueling with my tongue, tasting my palate, seeking my throat. When she withdrew, I followed her, mesmerized, wanting more of that gentle ravishment. When the tip of my tongue emerged shyly from between my parted lips, she captured it and softly sucked. I felt my cock throb in sympathy and I moaned.

It was as though she could read my mind. Her free hand slid into my sweat pants and her fingers curled softly around my stiffening cock. I felt a small shudder run through her as I pulsed in her palm.

"You are already hard," she groaned.

"I want to see you," she said suddenly. There was a fierce gleam in her eyes as she began to rip my clothes off in a frenzy. I didn't try to resist. It would have been useless. Besides, at that point, I didn't want to. When I was finally naked, she gently stroked my chest as though she were calming a frightened animal. She was even making soft cooing noises as she drank in the vision of my body laid out before her. It felt strange. She was fully clad and here I was, naked as the day I was born.

"You are beautiful," she whispered. There was so much hunger in her eyes. That hunger and those words made my cock jerk.

She gently hefted her flesh in my palm and began to stroke ... softly, just the way I like it, not too firmly, sliding the foreskin up and down the swollen head.

"Your skin is so soft ... and so hot," she breathed. I knew then that she wouldn't even need to stroke me to orgasm. I was sure that she could croon me to it. Her voice was swirling in my head, making me drunk. I knew I wouldn't last long. My thighs were already trembling. My hips were rocking and my ass was rising off the sheets to fuck my cock into her palm. I felt my breath quicken and my balls tighten with need. I knew it would be only moments before my cum boiled up my shaft and spat into the air. My eyes fluttered closed and my head rolled back in surrender. And then she released me ... abruptly. My eyes snapped open and I moaned.

How did she know, I wondered in panic, that this is what I wanted ... to be taken to the edge and brought back ... again and again ... that I relished her mastery over my flesh? Her eyes were pinned to my lips and she seemed to be drunk on the soft whimpering noises that leaked from my throat. And then I knew ... that what she was doing had nothing to do with what I wanted. It had everything to do with what she wanted. She wanted to drive me over the edge into desperation and to feed on my hunger.

She was cradling my balls softly in her palm ... tenderly. My eyes prickled with tears at the gentleness of that handling, the excruciating tenderness in those firm strong fingers that could rip my balls from my body and leave me bleeding. I whimpered as she rolled my balls in her palm and softly squeezed. Just before I crossed over into discomfort, she let me go. She was regarding me quietly. I was learning to anticipate her sudden shifts in mood. Another one seemed to be in the offing.

"Play with yourself," she said suddenly.

"W-what?" I stammered.

"I want to watch you play with yourself," she repeated, her voice firm, remorseless. It was as though she were saying something utterly ordinary, utterly inconsequential. She reached for my wrist and gently drew my hand towards my twitching member. I looked into her eyes. The hunger in them, the hidden entreaty made me yield. I wrapped my fingers around my cock and began to softly pump.

I had a sudden bout of shyness at displaying myself like that, at performing that act ... so private, so intimate ... for her benefit. But I also felt strangely aroused by my vulnerability. I wanted to be naked for her. I wanted to use myself until I spun out of control ... for her.

"Look at me," she said softly, "I want you to look at me while you masturbate."

That word, so brutal, so clinical, left no room for doubt as to the nature of this little scene that we were playing out, no doubt as to the violation of my privacy. She was drinking in greedily the expressions that swam across my eyes. Hers mirrored mine ... the hunger, the desire, the fear, the aching need.

She must have seen the panic that welled up from my soul, which signaled my impending release. I was on the verge of tumbling into darkness when I felt her rip my fingers off my cock and then press two fingers firmly into that spot between my balls and my anus to trap my cum inside my body. I thrashed helplessly, my cock twitching and jerking, now hungry for release. As we watched, a few drops of clear pre cum bubbled up from the tip.

"Why?" I asked, in a voice hoarse with the pain of endless waiting.

"Please ... let me cum," I pleaded.

"Shh ..." she whispered, as she pressed two fingers gently against my lips, now dry with longing, "It's okay, baby."

"At first, I wanted to watch you spurt your cream all over your body and then just now, as I looked at your swollen cock pulsing in your palm, I changed my mind. I want to taste you, Ivan ... I want the sweaty, spicy taste of you in my mouth."

I groaned helplessly. This woman was killing me.

"Will you let me, baby?" she persisted, her voice soft and wheedling, "Will you let me taste you?"

"Oh, God ... yes," I moaned. My voice didn't even sound like my own.

She shifted to kneel between my parted legs. She flattened my thighs onto the mat with her palms and leaned forward to plant a kiss on the head of my shaft, a kiss so soft, so fleeting that it felt like a breath or a summer breeze or the flutter of a moth's wing. The pink tip of her tongue emerged from her lips slowly, almost shyly, to dip into the tiny pool of pre cum that had gathered at the tip. She swirled the tip in the liquid letting the flavor settle on her tongue before gently flicking it into her mouth.

Her gentle ministrations were driving me crazy. I wanted more. I needed more. But she seemed in no mood to relent. As my hips strained upwards, she retreated, seducing me into trying harder. She raised her head to meet my gaze, now clouded with urgency.

"Come to me, baby," she whispered. And I did. My ass rose off the sheets offering her the gift of my cock. Take me, taste me, I pleaded.

When her lips closed around the soft sensitive head, I moaned. She let my ass settle on the sheets before beginning to suck ... softly ... like a baby suckling at her mother's breast. Then she released me to run her tongue in long slow swipes along the length of my shaft, wetting it with her spit. My cock was now dotted with tiny spit bubbles. When I was soaked, she slid my shaft between her lips and drove it into her throat. When her lips kissed the soft curls of my pubes, I groaned. It felt like velvet -- hot, wet velvet. I was close to cumming again. But she had an uncanny sense for when I would lose control.

She would release my cock in the nick of time, offering it a reprieve that I didn't want anymore while her tongue curled around my balls or drifted down my perineum or licked my asshole wet. By the time she had done this a few times, I was shaking. The next time she drew me into her mouth, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out. My fingers were fluttering helplessly in her blonde locks, my arms aching from the effort not to take her head between my hands and to drive my hard throbbing cock deep into her soft throat.

"Elena ..." I breathed in a strangled whisper.

She abandoned my cock and slithered up my body.

"What, baby? ... Did I hurt you?"

"No ..." I whispered shyly, "It's just that ... you know ..."

Her eyes widened in understanding.

"Its just that you were about to cum," she finished for me, "and you wanted to warn me. That's sweet of you, Ivan."

"Have you ever cum in a woman's mouth before?" she enquired.

"No," I groaned.

"Would you like to?" Her voice had dropped an octave. It was now soft and seductive.

"Yes ..." I managed.

"Then, that's what we will do," she said, as she gently smoothed my hair back from my forehead.

She held my shaft at the base between a thumb and forefinger and engulfed the swollen knob in her mouth. She sucked softly for a few seconds before burying my cock to the root in her throat. I exploded, pouring my thick creamy cum into her waiting mouth. She swallowed noisily and then licked me clean afterwards. She seemed so singleminded, so completely absorbed while she did. When she raised her head, her lips were shining with a thin film of my release. She looked beautiful. As she kissed me, I tasted myself on her flesh. I was feeling emptied and grateful and happy and wanted her to share all of that with me.

"Elena ..." I breathed, "I want you ..."

She gently gripped my wrists and flattened my hands onto the floor.

"Not tonight, baby" she whispered, "I think you need a good night's rest."

That was all. Before I could respond, she had risen to her feet and was sashaying out of the room. I lay there drained as I watched the tight curve of her bottom swiveling deliciously under her shorts as she walked away. My earlier joy had turned to ashes. As I lay there, I felt rejected ... somehow diminished. In hindsight, I shouldn't have felt either of those things.

*****

The next morning, I was determined to set things right, to reassume control of my life. It wouldn't do to have a strange woman thrusting her hands into my trousers and then deciding whether she would put out or not. I found her in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. I leaned against the edge of the kitchen platform at the other end of the room from her and cleared my throat meaningfully. She peered into the coffee thoughtfully for a few moments and then swiveled around to face me.

"You know ... I have thought about things a little," I started. I wished she wouldn't look at me so intently.

"I think we should lay down a few ground ... rules?" My words trailed away into nothing as she stepped towards me. She kept coming until only a couple of inches separated us. Just one more step and her soft, pliant breasts would sink into my chest. I tried one last time.

"I have a few of them written down," I said feebly, as I fished out a sheet of paper from my pocket "ground rules ... I mean."

She calmly shifted her gaze to the paper in my hand, plucked it from my fingers, tore it in half and tossed it with an air of disdain over her shoulder. Her fingers drifted upwards to caress my cheek and then slid around my head to grab a fistful of my hair. She pulled firmly until my head was thrown back and my throat was exposed. She leaned down to calmly draw my lips into her mouth and explored me leisurely. Even after she broke the kiss, if you could call it that, her lips remained close to mine.

"You are not my employer," she whispered against my skin, "your father is. I'm responsible for your safety and as long as I'm, there is only one ground rule. You just do exactly what I tell you to do. And right now, what I want you to do is please me."

Her confidence, bordering on arrogance, was so complete that it took my breath away.

"What does this have anything to do with my safety?" I bleated.

She eased the grip in my hair, reflected for a moment and then said, "Well, if I'm supposed to give my life to save yours and so on, it might pay to keep me happy, don't you think?"

Her hand had strayed beneath my waist. She slowly rubbed my length through the soft wool of my trousers. I was already hard.

"Mmmmm..." she whispered in my ear, "Actually, I think someone wants to make me happy ... very happy."

She suddenly released my hold on me, letting my head snap back up. She stepped backwards and began to strip, quickly, efficiently. I was speechless, both shocked and aroused by her temerity. When she began to peel the clothes off my body, I didn't stop her. I knew I was lost. She gently drew my head down to her breast, to one rosy nipple, which was already hard and puckered. As I took the swollen nub between my lips and began to suck, my eyes fluttered closed.

Her breasts were firm and perky, her nipples upturned. I drowned her nipple in the wet heat of my mouth, sucking it, licking it, nibbling it. When it was slick with spit, I bit down gently on the sensitive peak. Her body jerked and her lips parted in a soft moan. Before I turned my attention to her other nipple, I softly laved her breasts, every inch of the heaving mounds, licking them wet. By the time my lips had captured her other nipple, her breath was coming in gasps.

She gripped my hair ... hard ... and wrenched my softly sucking lips away from that juicy little morsel. Her eyes were wild, clouded with lust.

"I want those lips on my cunt," she said harshly, her voice husky with desire.

She grabbed my wrist and half dragged me into the hall. She sprawled out on the wide leather couch in the middle of the room and flung her legs apart. It was clear what she wanted. I knelt before her in supplication, my eyes drawn to the quiet perfection of her cunt -- the thick outer lips, the delicate inner ones, the pink tip of her clit peeking out of its fleshy hood and the uneven fringe of her weeping hole. It was framed by a light cloud of spun gold. I felt only gratitude then, that she was allowing me to have it.

I dipped my head and softly licked open the leaves of her cunt with my tongue. She tasted wonderful -- sweet with a touch of spice. When she had been laid open, I sucked one thick fleshy petal and rolled it in my mouth, wetting it. She moaned at the liquid sensation of her pussy flesh being drawn into my mouth. As I drew her flesh out from between my lips, I let her feel my teeth, a gentle rasping along her soaked skin. And then I turned to the other one.

Her hips were bucking gently, offering her pussy to be gently ravished. But I wasn't about to be hurried. I loved the taste of her and I couldn't get enough of it. I ran the flat of my tongue in long slow swipes along the pink engorged flesh, bathing it. I loved the tiny whimpers that escaped her mouth. That hint of helplessness was so unlike the Elena I knew. I liked this one.

I lined up the tip of my tongue against her hole which was pulsing with eagerness and thrust forward, burying my tongue in her flesh in one fell swoop. Her back arched and she groaned at the unexpected violation. I fucked in and out of her slowly, teasing out even more of her juice. Her thighs and her mound and the crease of her ass were now slick with it. Her tight little ass was bouncing up and down on the leather impaling her flesh even deeper on my tongue. It was time, I thought, for a little diversion.

Ignoring her whispered protests, I eased my tongue out of her cunt and drifted lower to plant a tentative little kiss on the soft pink circle of her anus. Her body jerked. I didn't let up. I ran my tongue in tiny little circles around that core of darkness, licking the folds and crevices of her sphincter wet. And then I began to lave the valley between her cheeks, covering her skin in long greedy sweeps. When she was so wet that my spit had pooled in the tiny hollow of her asshole, I placed the tip of a forefinger against the ring of muscle and gently probed. I didn't want to penetrate her then, just make her aware of the possibility of it.