Whispers Between Friends

My first experience in the world of B&D was with Mark. We met in college. He was a graduate student, working in the same office as I. Mark was tall, dark, mysterious…..everything that sends a young girl’s heart to beating fast. Add to that a deep, smoky voice, and I was caught up in him. I wanted him to want me. I flirted incessantly. He would smile, glance at me out of the corner of his brown eyes, and occasionally make a remark back to me.

We became friends. The kind of friends that have this tension between them. Like you know you want to throw the other person down and fuck them until they scream, but you don’t dare – because the tension itself is so damned delicious.

I remember one day, when he commented that he could see my bra strap. I turned to him and told him that if he wanted to see the bra, all he would have to do was ask. He asked. I turned and locked the office door, and then opened my blouse. I was wearing a lacy black bra, that showed my breasts beneath the lace. He asked me my cup size. I told him I was a 38 DD. He exhaled, and asked me if I would show him. I was nervous, but excited. I reached down and pulled the cups of my bra underneath my breasts. He stared at me. He told me to touch my nipples. I did. I rolled and pinched them between my fingers, making them hard. He asked if I could lick my nipples. I smiled, lifted my left breast to my mouth, closed my eyes and rolled my tongue around the nipple, biting it with my teeth and pulling it gently. I sighed….I was getting wet. Then, it seemed that we both jumped back to the reality of where we were. I covered myself quickly, and told him I had some things to file, and I’d see him later. He smiled back and said “thank you.”

One weekend, Mark decided to have a party at his house. He invited me along, even though I knew no one else who was coming. And simply because it was Mark, and because I could, I went. He lived in a very upscale neighborhood – five bedrooms, four baths, four-car garage, swimming pool, etc. To my nineteen-year-old mind, it was paradise. And part of me hoped that at some point that weekend, I could see how far things might go between us.

It was quite a bash – we danced, drank, talked about philosophy and old Three Stooges episodes. Mark was a screaming fan of them, and we inevitably sat down in the “theatre room” watching tapes of all of the Three Stooges episodes. Him chuckling occasionally and explaining to me the progression of comedy and relationship between the Stooges through the years. I didn’t mind. I was just happy to be there. When he went upstairs to bed, he kissed me on the cheek and covered me with a blanket. I laid there and fantasized about him coming back down, bending me over the couch and fucking me until I screamed. I touched myself and came twice. Then, I fell asleep, dreaming of him breathing against my skin.

The next day, we ate breakfast, hung out at the house, listened to music, napped and watched more videos. Everyone else had left, except for he and I. I told him I didn’t want to impose, and he told me he was happy to have the company. He asked if I would like a tour of the house. As we walked around, I noted his taste – very classic, many antiques.

When he showed me his bedroom, I was a little nervous – and excited, admittedly. I remembered our encounter in the office, and wondered if, now that he had me alone, if he would actually take me. And I do mean – take me. I was a little thing compared to Mark – he was 6 foot 2 to my 5 foot 6, and all broad shoulders and muscle.

His father was an importer, and he had many objects in the room from foreign countries. He would tell me the myth and history behind each object I asked about. We walked around the bed, and I kept thinking “at” him – *throw me on the bed – fuck me, please fuck me.* He didn’t. He invited me to sit at his desk, and I told him I was fine. “SIT.” He said. I obeyed. He pulled up another chair and straddled it, the back of it at his chest.

I looked at him for a while, until he asked me what was on my mind. I laughed, nervously. “Do you really want to know?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he replied.

I took a deep breath – I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Since that day in the office, I’ve been dreaming of being with you,” I told him.

“Being with me?” he said. “You mean, fucking me.”

“Yes,” I answered with a smile and a furious blush.

“Why” he asked.

“Truth?” I said.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Because I……I’ve always fantasized about being dominated, and you’re the first man I’ve ever thought I could do that with,” I told him, my eyes still downcast – desperately fearful of being rejected.

“I see,” he said.

“Close your eyes,” he told me. And I closed them.

“Put your hands behind the chair, and clasp them together,” he said. I did it.

He leaned forward and whispered against my cheek “Don’t move until I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes, what?” he whispered.

“Yes Sir,” I replied.

He got up off of his chair and left the room.

I sat there, hands clasped behind my back, heart thudding in my chest. Part of me wondered what on earth I had gotten myself into, and the other part of me couldn’t wait to know what would happen next.

A few minutes later, he returned and I felt him brush something against my cheek. Then a blindfold was being tied around my eyes, and he told me to release my hands, as he placed my wrists in handcuffs. I was suddenly very aware that I was wearing only a blouse and skirt from the party, having taken off my pantyhose and bra to sleep and having left my shoes downstairs. I could feel my breathing speed up in time with my heartbeat.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I promise not to hurt you. If you become too frightened, say “swimming pool” and I will stop.

“Ok,” I breathed back.

“OK WHAT?” he shouted, and I jumped.

“Ok, Sir!” I said tremblingly.

“Very good,” he whispered and brushed his lips against my ear.

At this point, I could only rely on my hearing and sense of touch to know where he was. He sat back down on the chair in front of me, and lit a cigarette. He began to ask me questions: How old were you when you first touched yourself? What is your biggest fear? When did you first have an orgasm? Tell me about your first sexual experience with someone else……I answered each question, and after each answer, he would offer me a drag of his cigarette. It got so that I expected the cigarette, and leaned forward and parted my lips for it. After the 5th or 6th question, he leaned forward and said, “Did I say you could smoke my cigarette?” I sat back and sucked in my breath. “No Sir,” I whispered. “That’s right,” he said, and laughed softly.

By now, my nipples were hard, and I could feel moisture between my legs. Never had I let a man have this much control of me. He could make me suck his cock, fuck me, slap me, whatever he wanted – and there wasn’t much I could do – or rather, there wasn’t anything I wanted to do – to stop him.

“What do you want to do to me?” I asked him, voice low. He didn’t answer.

I heard him get up, and felt him walk behind me. He touched my hair, my cheeks, ran his fingers across my lips, and put one in my mouth. “Suck it,” he said. I complied, and rolled my tongue around his finger, sucking it like a small cock.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear “You want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” I stopped for a moment – feeling that he could read my mind – though he was reading my body, and nodded. He pulled his finger from my mouth, and I felt him walk around in front of me. “Open your mouth,” he said.

I felt the fabric of his pants against my lips, and felt his erection across my mouth. I ran my mouth along the length of it, biting gently with my teeth along the head and shaft. He pressed it into my mouth. I wanted to taste him so badly!

He pulled back, and I heard his pants unzip. I felt the warm wetness of the head of his cock on my lips. Precum oozing from the tip. “Let me see your tongue,” he said.

I stuck my tongue out, and he rubbed the head of his cock over it – I rolled my tongue all around the head, sucking up the sweetness of his precum. I tried to pull his cock into my mouth, but he took my face in his hand, slapped my cheek with his cock and said “ah ah ah, not yet.” I was desperately disappointed. I was writhing on my chair, desperate to suck his cock – to have any part of him in me. He put his hand on the back of my head and said, “Open your mouth, and let your tongue fall over your bottom lip” he said. I opened.

He slid his cock along my lips, along my tongue. It was like he was fucking me for the first time, and chose my mouth as the channel. I could feel him stroking the shaft of his cock as he did it, releasing more sweet precum onto my tongue.

Suddenly, he thrust his cock into my mouth, and began fucking me – fucking my face. He had both hands on the back of my head, fingers twined in my hair, and fucked me hard. I could feel my eyes watering, as the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, and his balls slapped against my chin. I pumped my hips against the chair, loving the sensation of having my face fucked hard. “That’s it,” he said, “suck my cock – HARD!” I sucked and sucked for all I was worth drawing every inch of him into my mouth and throat, moaning, as I could feel him swell and get harder.

Suddenly, he thrust deeply into my throat, cried out, and poured his hot, sweet cum into my mouth and throat, thrusting long and hard. I sucked and swallowed it down, savoring every drop, running my tongue up and down the shaft. He drew slowly out of my mouth and whispered, “Lick it clean,” in that deep, smoky voice. I obeyed and licked every inch of him clean, including the last few drops of cum he squeezed from the head of his cock.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said, as he zipped his pants. He walked behind me, undid the cuffs, and removed my blindfold. He sat in front of me, and took my wrists in his hands, rubbing away the sore line the cuffs had left behind.

He leaned forward and kissed me, gently, on the lips. “Open your eyes,” he whispered. I opened them, looking directly into his chocolate-brown eyes. “Thank you,” he said, and kissed me again. I blushed and cast my eyes downward, feeling a bit awkward and ashamed of myself. He lifted my chin to look me in the eyes again and said, “No – never feel ashamed. You are beautiful.” And he smiled at me. I hugged him, and we went downstairs for dinner. He treated me just the same as before we had entered that room – as an equal, never as less.

Mark and I saw each other on campus a few times after that, and always exchanged a secret smile. We lost touch over the years, but I will never forget the first time I could truly let go of myself.