A Train of Events

Her touch was light, as if threatening to retreat, and I knew that it was entirely up to me. I could pull away, and we would both laugh it off as the result of wine too quickly drunk, but I was already breathing her in.

I caressed her cheek questioningly admiring the perfection of her skin. Other women have told me that they love the feel of a man's face against theirs but, in truth, I have always shied away from that abrasive contact insisting that they be perfectly shaved.

This was something so different and, despite all of my misgivings, it felt so natural. In the end I could not say who made the first move. Our tongues gently touched, as if in a courtship ritual, and then her mouth closed over mine and we were joined as one.

She kissed so beautifully and there was something indefinably feminine about the way her tongue danced with mine, first leading and then inviting. I could have remained floating in that moment but she needed to move on.

Almost without me being aware she eased her arms out from her tee shirt and then, barely breaking our kiss, she removed it altogether.

She sealed our mouths once more but guided my hand to her naked breast. I froze, all of my uncertainties resurfacing, but she coaxed me with her tongue lulling me back into a state of detached serenity.

My senses seemed heightened as the shape and fullness of her breast was revealed to me. My thumb slowly strayed mapping out the dimpled extent of her nipple and then pausing at the rigid teat so much larger than my own.

My touch elicited a muted gasp and I brought my finger into play. My own nipples are extremely sensitive but I had never found a lover who could attune himself to my needs. Now I began to massage her nipple with a subtly I would have accorded my own and, as she whimpered softly in my mouth, I felt unbelievably aroused.

She brought her hand to the back of my head and held me close for a moment but then she relaxed a little and the message was clear. I broke the kiss and trailed the tip of my tongue down the length of her neck leading inexorably to the swell of her breasts.

Her engorged nipple was a beautiful shade of dusky pink and I gently took it between my lips.

Taking her other nipple between my fingers I began to tease and, whilst I felt sure that my attempts were clumsy, I was inordinately pleased when she groaned. Encouraged, I carried on for some time at first just using my lips and tongue but then, more boldly, nipping her with my teeth.

I felt the tension building in her and my own nipples were achingly erect. I was getting desperate for her to return the favour but she took my hand from her breast and eased it downwards.

With her hand covering mine she slipped inside the waist of her shorts and I was so shocked by the heat and wetness that I felt immobilized.

"Come upstairs..."

She drew me up slowly from the sofa and I followed almost mesmerized. She made no attempt to cover herself as she lead the way up to the bedroom which was at least twice the size of mine. It was finished with white fitted units, with very simple lines, which only pointed up the starkness of the huge bed dressed in royal blue satin.

Letting go of my hand she slid out of her shorts and stood proudly naked before me. Her body was clearly the product of healthy living and made me feel guilty about my recent lazy attitude towards diet and exercise.

That thought made me hesitate momentarily before beginning to get undressed and in that pause she settled on the bed propped by a heap of expensively upholstered cushions.

The word that immediately sprang to my mind was regal. With one knee raised she looked so assured...and desirable.

I was still hesitant but now for different reasons. I had deluded myself into thinking that this was a voyage of discovery for both of us and that either of us could say no should we feel uncomfortable. Now I was convinced that she was far more worldly than I had given her credit for; I suddenly felt like her quarry but, for some strange reason, I found it exciting.

Not recognizing this facet of my own nature and I needed time to think but she was already beckoning me towards her. I felt wound by an invisible chain as I drew closer to the bed and then I was there kneeling at her feet.

I wanted her to open her arms, to enfold and comfort me, but she simply spread her legs to either side of my body putting her sex lewdly on display.

I could smell her now. I am not sure what I expected but there was a surprising familiarity which of itself only served to increase my sense of arousal. She could see it working on me and she smiled knowing I was ensnared.

She extended her hand and, as I took it, she invited me forward but only so far. I hovered over the delta of her immaculately depilated sex where the shy fringes of her labia shone moistly with promised sweetness.

Until now I had never considered it as a thing of beauty but there was an undoubted allure that resonated deep within me. It's warm, yielding, incitement was the antithesis of the more familiar threat of thrusting masculinity.

In my own mind I was already justifying my behaviour, telling myself that this was an opportunity never likely to come my way again; it would be just this once and no one need ever know.

She gave no guidance and I wondered how she would react if I were to walk out on her but she knew me better than I knew myself.

I leant in and kissed her inner thigh and then spent a seeming age working my way upwards. Nervousness got the better of me and I skirted around until I was lavishing my attention on the plane of her stomach.

She sighed but it was a sound of contentedness and not exasperation. She knew that all she had to do was wait.

I lingered at her navel, beautifully shaped and deep set, and noted the almost invisible trail of faint hair leading the way downwards. I began to follow it, her scent growing stronger with every centimetre travelled, keenly aware that my hands were shaking.

I began to lick at the firmness of her mound where her taste was already in evidence. It was unexpectedly tart but then I caught up a single droplet as it leaked away. The sensation was startling. The rich muskiness filled my mouth and sent a shiver through my whole body.

Craving more, I tentatively ran my tongue along the exposed tips of her labia which seemed to swell in welcome. My reward was a seepage of oily nectar and I licked avidly slowly working my way deeper.

Within, she felt incredibly hot to my tongue and her excitement was made evident as she began to squeeze encouraging me to even greater effort. I could not get enough of her taste but now I tried to read her contractions and to adapt to the rhythm of her impending climax.

I was perspiring heavily but I was beyond caring. We were moving as one, her hips undulating as she worked her way to the summit.

When the moment came she put both hands to the back of my head and clasped me tightly. I struggled to breathe but I licked gamely as she began to melt in a series of barely controlled juddering convulsions.

She cried out, heedless of who might hear, and it was more a command than a request when she told me not to stop. Her climax seemed to roll on forever and with each passing minute I was getting desperate for my own turn.

When, at last, she had no more to give she released me and slumped back into the piled cushions. My face was hot and wet and I was grateful for the cooling air. By contrast she looked beatific, the only obvious evidence of her exertions was a light flush over the surface of her breasts.

Now, once again, I was not sure how to take things forward. Clearly it was my turn but she made no obvious attempt to reinitiate proceedings. Instead, she got up from the bed and touched me on the tip of the nose.

"Give me a couple of minutes."

With that she went into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I was sorely tempted to get into the bed and cover myself but I did not want her to think me prudish. I was just considering how to compose myself when I heard a sound behind me. It was like the groaning sound that my ageing heating boiler made from time to time but I could not imagine that, in a modern home like this, the boiler would be housed in a bedroom cupboard.

When the sound was repeated curiosity got the better of me. I padded across to the row of built in wardrobes and peeked inside. Part of me hoped to find her clothes storage as disorganized as mine but nothing could have prepared me for lay behind the door.

It would have been hard to say which of us was the more startled, me or the naked Adonis that stood there bound in place. Steph had joked that her husband was a trophy toy boy and I had no doubt that this was he.

With his dark eyes and thick oiled hair he put me in mind of a Spanish footballer. It was obvious that he was exceptionally handsome notwithstanding the ball gag that distended his mouth.

His body was toned and there was not a single hair on it which only went to emphasise the fullness of his impressive erection. Outside of porn films I had never seen one quite so prodigious and I had the sense that it had been straining at the leash for quite some time.

He stood with feet apart, his ankles bound to eyebolts drilled into the floor confirming that this situation was not new to him. His posture thrust him forward a little and a quick look showed why.

His arms were held behind him in a single leather sleeve which cinched each of his wrists to the opposing elbow. The whole arrangement was then attached to another eyebolt set sufficiently high in the wall to ensure a measure of discomfort.

It was hard to read his expression; a mix of surprise, excitement and perhaps a little fear.

For my own part I was wondering just exactly what I had gotten myself into.

Now that the wardrobe door was open I could see that the louvred vents afforded him a surprisingly clear view of the bed and so, not only had he been able to hear everything, he had been able to watch as well.

For some reason that discovery excited me more than I might have imagined. A mischievous part of me wanted to take hold and tease him by way of revenge but, at that moment, I heard the toilet flushing.

I quickly closed the wardrobe door and returned to the bed. When Steph came back into the room I looked at her anew. I was strongly tempted to confront her but something held me in check.

She took up her station reclining on the cushions and I now understood that she was provocatively putting herself on show directly in her husband's line of sight. If further proof were needed she raised her knee and nonchalantly ran her finger along the length of her exposed sex.

Unfortunately, her casual wantonness did nothing to assuage my own desperate need. My mind was fogged by a fever of lust and, heedless of the consequences, I prostrated myself once more and sealed my mouth to her sex.

"My, my, you're insatiable."

Her gentle laughter might have been edged with a hint of mockery but I was beyond caring. It took a while for her to begin to simmer but I had my own agenda.

I tucked up my knees and raised my backside. I regard it as my best feature and now I displayed myself shamelessly as I brought my fingers into play. I found it hard to believe just how wet I was as I pushed my hand as far back as I could smearing my skin with the product of my own arousal.

It was so perverted, cruel even, knowing that he was helplessly watching, but I am not sure that I had ever been so turned on.

Normally, sex for me felt disjointed. I could focus on my partners needs or my own but rarely together. Now it was a perfect symbiosis. The wetter and more aroused that Steph became the more my body responded.

As I licked and sucked at her I was driving two fingers deep inside myself. Those two fingers became three and then four. I had never done this to myself before and my wrist was making a tortured complaint but it was subsumed by my heated savagery.

My whole hand was swallowed and wetness dripped from my forearm as I impaled myself.

I could no longer support myself properly and I was pressed even closer to Steph's ravening maw. She started to swear, urging me on, and I feared that I would not have the strength but then she started to come.

My tongue was deep inside her as my own climax took hold. Centred on my sex it reverberated throughout my whole body. It was a tingling sensation that kept on feeding itself and I did not want it to end but it felt as if my head would explode with the sheer exultation of it.

At the finish I almost cried in frustration as I finally had to let it go. I withdrew my aching fingers and, still slumped between her legs, I gently licked the hot sticky residue from her cooling skin.

It took some while for my breathing to return to normal but, in the ensuing quietness another unmistakable groan could be heard.

Steph put her hand to my head to hold me still but then she was a bustle of activity.

"You are going to have to leave. My husband will be home anytime soon"

She ushered me into the bathroom and handed me my clothes leaving me bewildered. As I quickly tried to tidy myself up I could only assume that she was trying to save herself the embarrassment of his presence being exposed and some small part of me was tempted to reveal to her what I had already discovered for myself.

Only later did I consider that she was simply being greedy and that she was eager to say goodbye just so that she could take advantage of his pent up frustration...

Chapter Three

For the next few days my work suffered badly. I found it hard to concentrate as I tried to reach an understanding of everything that had transpired.

In an aesthetic sense I had always appreciated the beauty, and attraction, of certain women but I had never thought of it in terms of defining my sexuality. Prior to recent events, had anyone suggested that I would be prepared to physically engage with another woman I would have laughed in their face.

The truth was that I still felt that Steph had used me but I knew that, if she asked me again, I would say yes in a heartbeat. It had been the most intense sexual encounter I had ever had in my life.

Twice, I found myself taking the later train in the hope of catching a glimpse of Bryony and I berated myself for acting like a besotted teenager. I knew I had to pull myself together or I was in danger of jeopardizing my chances of promotion to partner.

When I received a phone call from John, the eye candy from Phelps, I decided to put him out of his misery and accepted an invitation to a drink after work. To keep the arrangement loose I suggested meeting for a quick glass of wine at a bar near the station.

He left the choice to me and, subliminally or otherwise, I suggested "The Other Side of the Tracks". It was a popular haunt for the after work crowd and with the gay community drawn from the theatres nearby.

Unfortunately, whilst John attracted admiring glances from both women and men alike, he was a dull conversationalist and he was doing nothing to restore my faith in the male of the species. My eyes kept flitting to the far end of the room where the same sex couples seemed to be having a whale of a time.

It was a predominantly male crowd but there were a few female faces and one in particular looked familiar. It took me a few moments to bring it to mind and then, with a jolt of excitement, I recognized her as the girl I had seen at the station with Bryony.

She was small, dark haired, and could have been taken for a young teenager although her full breasts strongly suggested otherwise and the bar was strictly over twenty-ones. She seemed perfectly at home amongst the raucous theatrical fraternity.

Almost inevitably, as a man confident in his own desirability, John made a crass attempt to talk me into something more than just a drink and at that point I called a halt to the proceedings. I allowed him to escort me into the station and actually went on to the platform before doubling back and returning to the bar.

I ordered another drink and took a table closer to the girl and her friends. I was not sure what I was doing, or hoped to achieve, as I got out my laptop to give the impression that I actually had a purpose.

From the snippets that I managed to overhear it seemed that the girl had a small part in the musical at the Palace Theatre just around the corner and I found myself wondering what connected her to Bryony.

After twenty minutes my drink was almost finished and, telling myself to get a grip, I began to put away my laptop. I had just switched off my wireless mouse when I saw the girl look towards the door.

I felt a sudden rush of adrenalin and intuitively looked up from my bag to see Bryony enter the bar. She had a look about her that suggested that she had come straight from work and the girl broke from the crowd to greet her with an effusive kiss on the cheek.

With all thoughts of an immediate exit dispelled I turned on my laptop again and tried to put my finger on just what it was that made her seem so attractive. She was not the most beautiful woman I had ever met but there was a certain something about her.

The general hubbub now made it impossible to overhear what was being said and I contented myself by taking stolen glances in her direction. At one point I peered over the top of the screen only to find her looking directly at me and I quickly cast my eyes down again figuring that she was checking out the clientele in general.

I was still pretending to be engrossed when I got the shock of my life.

"Good evening..."

Without another word she took the seat opposite me and presented me with a glass of wine. Close to, her icy blue eyes were almost hypnotic and I could do nothing about the guilty flush that now reddened my cheeks.

"I'm Bryony...but then I suspect you know that."

She paused to take a sip from her own glass and then continued.

"I could almost believe that you're stalking me. Don't get me wrong, it's flattering to be stalked by a woman as beautiful as you but, if I had to guess, you're very new to this."

To be caught out was one thing but to be made to appear so transparent was totally unnerving. I desperately wanted to tell her that I was not normally like this but it would have only served to confirm what she had already surmised. I opened my mouth to speak but I could find no words.

"If you are interested I can let you have some contact numbers. There are lots of straight women who are curious."

Was she rejecting me because she had determined I was straight or was she just not attracted? Either way I felt a hollow forming in the pit of my stomach. My discomfiture must have shown because her features softened into a warm smile.

"Look, what I'm saying is that, for someone like you, I am dangerous to know."

It was such an odd thing to say and I was intrigued by her choice of words. It felt as if she was trying to belittle me in some way and I reacted by pushing my glass towards her and snapping back.

"I'll buy my own drinks, thank you."

She looked intrigued, even a little amused, and then she produced a business card. She scribbled an address on the back of it and handed it to me.

"Meet us later, after ten."

With that she got up and re-joined her group. She left the glass of wine which I finished quickly and then I packed up my things. I waited until I got outside to peruse the card which, to my astonishment, declared her to be a junior paediatrician.

The address on the reverse was in an area which had grown in popularity with the resurgence of the open air market which I sometimes visited at weekends. On reading it I felt a frisson of excitement but there was no way on earth that I was to entangle myself.