Darkness

Darkness

All is dark for you. The blindfold across your eyes is expertly tied, and no hint of light peeks through, even if you open your eyes. It is January in Peru, and the rainy season is in full effect, thrumming relentlessly on the clay tiles roofing the casa de huéspedes where you have been staying for the past weeks. The window is open, but even the rains fail to break the heavy, moist atmosphere of the room. You can picture the ceiling fan above you in your mind's eye, limping in pathetic, ineffectual circles. The rains have drowned the normal nighttime sounds of the Urubamba Valley. There is nothing but the percussive drumbeat of raindrops.

You sit upright on the edge of the bed, as you were told. Your hands are together in your lap, held in union by soft silk ties. A drop of sweat trickles down from your forehead, a maddening tickle that you cannot reach, even when you lift your shoulder to meet your cheek. Even naked as you are, there is no relief from the humidity and heat tonight.

Where is he? You can hear him moving elsewhere in your small suite of rooms in the boarding house, and you strain your ears to try to identify some specific action or location. He's not in this room, and hasn't been for several minutes. An indistinct clatter. Soft footsteps. It's all maddeningly vague, a susurrus of clues beneath the ceaseless pounding of the rain.

You hear a soft thump as he places some object on the nightstand. Your mind spins through possibilities. A box? It sounded fairly solid. A book perhaps? A quick shiver of anticipation runs down your spine, and when he speaks, he is so close to your ear that you inadvertently start.

"You waited just like you were told. Good girl," he whispers in your ear. His breath feels almost cool in the sweltering heat. You can smell his cologne, musky but with a touch of spice. He runs a single finger down your spine, tracing through the slick sweat on your back, and you arch and squirm under his touch. "Are you wondering what I've brought?" You nod, hesitantly. "Good," he replies, "you'll find out soon enough, but not yet."

Seconds pass. You sense him coming close again. His hand grips your chin, turns your head up, and his lips crush against yours. It's all you can feel; no other part of his body touches yours, but you know that his naked form is just inches from yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, slides against yours. You feel a flash of warmth spreading from your face down to your belly, and when he pulls away you gasp for breath.

His hands land on your shoulders. You realize he is facing you. He drags his hands downward, nails trailing lines of fire down your body. You inhale sharply at the sudden sensation as they descend across the fullness of your breasts, over your belly, down your thighs, across the insides of your calves, right to the tips of your toes. You shiver.

"Do you like that way that feels?" he asks. You nod again, but he rebukes you, "I need to hear you say it, Alyssa."

"Yes," you reply, voice husky with disuse. You hear him grunt assent, and then the disembodied hands come back again, this time deliberately scraping across each nipple on his way down, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your groin. His nails are hard, but well-trimmed, and they slide easily on your moist skin. It doesn't hurt, but you can imagine the red tracks they must be leaving on your skin. You move your hands ineffectually, anxious to touch, but with nothing in reach.

He moves away, and you hear the unmistakable sound of the zipper of his jeans, the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor. You picture his naked, athletic six-foot frame in your mind's eye.

"What are you thinking about, Alyssa?" he asks, and you flush with embarrassment and hesitate. Out of the darkness, his warm hands cup your breasts, the pads of his thumbs rubbing back and forth across your nipples. He pinches them lightly. "Tell me," he commands. You strive to concentrate despite the distracting sensations.

"You, naked," you reply.

"More specific."

"Your lips. The soft hair on your chest."

"Keep going," he insists. You feel him clambering onto the bed to take a place behind you, both of your weights shifting on the soft mattress.

"Your thighs." His lips press against your neck, and he drags the stubble of his beard across the expanse of your shoulders. His hands course along your hips, around to the front of your body, where they dance across the soft hair where your thighs meet.

"What else?" he whispers into your ear, his hands exploring, questing across your body. Suddenly he presses up against you fully. His warm, slick body slides against yours. You can feel the hard heat of his groin pressing up against the small of your back, and you moan and feel a liquid warmth pooling in your belly.

"Your cock," you whisper.

"What was that Alyssa?" he asks, "I couldn't hear you."

"Your cock," you say again. This time your voice sounds far too loud in the close stillness of the room, carrying over the pounding of the rain, and you flush in a combination of embarrassment and excitement. He pulls away, leaving you touchless and alone again as he climbs off the bed.

"No," he says, "I don't think you need that enough yet, Alyssa, do you?"

"Yes, I do," you reply, trembling. But some part of you wants to see what else might happen in the darkness, and as if he can sense your doubt, he refuses you.

"Lie down on your back, Alyssa," he directs you. You obey, wriggling back so that your whole body is on the bed. You straighten your legs, and, feeling exposed and vulnerable, press your thighs together. The sheets are cool and slightly damp with spray from the rain outside the open window. Your restrained hands rest on your waist, purposeless. You hear him walk around the bed towards the side where your head rests.

"Give me your hands," he says. Obediently, you raise your hands over your head. He shifts your body, and deftly hooks your hands over the bedpost. Back around the other side of the bed, he grabs your waist and pulls your body towards him, stretching you just enough to pull the ties around your wrists taut against the post. Experimentally, you try to lift your hands, but there is no play. You're bound to the bedpost, at his mercy, and you shiver at the thought.

He is up on the bed again, and his hands roam across your body, caressing each line and curve. His hands are all you can feel. It feels as if they are touching every part of your body. They caress your neck, and down over your shoulders. They drag across your breasts, and travel the full curves underneath. They trail lightly down the inside of your arm, and trace the outlines of each of your fingers. They glide over your belly and across your thighs.

He gets up again, pads across the room to the nightstand. He's getting whatever it was he placed there earlier, you think. You strain to hear other clues, but he's maddeningly silent. He sits back on the bed.

"Do you want me to touch you with what I've brought, Alyssa?" he asks.

"Yes, please," you moan in reply. Seconds pass, but nothing happens. You know he's there, and he has something, but why won't he touch you. You squirm, trying to move your body closer, initiate contact, but he denies you.

"Ah-ah, don't be a bad girl, Alyssa," he says. "I won't touch you until you sit still." Frustrated and anxious, you force your body to still itself. "Are you going to be good?" he asks.

"Yes, James," you reply, a pout in your voice.

"Good," he says, "here it comes." And yet still, there is a long, pregnant pause that has you nearly shouting at him to touch you. You hear a noise, and a split second before the first drop hits your skin, you realize that it's ice. The drop hits right between your breasts. It's shockingly cold in the hot room, and your chest heaves as you draw in breath sharply. The next drop hits your breastbone and you realize he's simply holding the ice above your body, letting the heat of his hands melt it. Each drop is a small torture. You have no idea where the next one will fall, and they drop at random -- landing on your thigh, your waist, your collarbone, the inside of your arm. Each drop trails a ticklish line into the valleys of your body. The next drop hits your lips, and you lick them involuntarily. Moments later, his lips press against yours, but he still holds the ice above you. Cold splashes of ice water mingle with the warmth of his mouth on yours, a delicious mingling of sensations that has you moaning into his mouth. Your hips shift subconsciously, and you squeeze your thighs together as sensation ripples through you.

He releases your lips, and slips off the bed, taking what you now recognize as the ice bucket with him. He caresses one foot with a warm hand, the other with the hand that was holding the ice, and you squirm against the cold, your bound hands pulling taut against the bedpost.

"Spread your legs, Alyssa," he says softly. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you hesitate, embarrassed.

"Spread your legs, or we're done!" he barks, and your heart lurches at the command in his voice. Slowly, you draw your knees up, and spread them apart, exposing yourself to his gaze. It remains pitch black for you, but you know there's plenty of light for him to see your body. You know he's staring at you, but you know he's good to his word. You will yourself not to close your legs, not wanting this to end.

"Do you want me to look at you, Alyssa?" he asks.

"Mmhmm," you reply.

"Tell me. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to look at my body, James."

"Specifically." You pause, hesitant. "Tell me."

"I want you to look at my pussy, James," you say, and it turns you on to hear those words coming from your own lips. You can picture his hungry gaze, drinking you in, his eyes staring between your legs. You can feel the wetness down there, and you struggle not to move. He is quiet, and you squirm under his regard, wondering what he's doing. You pull ineffectually against the bedpost.

A hint of warm breath caresses the inside of your thigh, and in an instant you realize he's between your legs. Your stomach flips as you picture his head between your thighs, his soft brown hair brushing against you. His breath moves ever-upwards, tracking up your right leg. Suddenly he turns his head, and the rough stubble of his beard drags fiercely down your left thigh. You gasp out loud, unable to contain the sound. Your breaths come shallow and rapidly, and your mouth is dry. You lick your lips, and resist the urge to press towards him, knowing he will be displeased. A wet tongue and soft lips press against your thighs, alternating sides, getting ever closer to the place between your thighs.

A pause. You try to catch your breath, but you're consumed by the need to know what he will do next. He blows a stream of cool air directly over your pussy, and your hips lift involuntarily towards the sensation. You tremble, and you have to force yourself to relax the muscles in your legs. You ache there, longing for some kind of touch.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Alyssa," he says, and even those few words cause a tantalizing flow of air between your legs that nearly makes you jump.

"I . . ." you hesitate, "I want you to lick my pussy," you whisper shyly.

"It doesn't sound like you want that very much," he points out. You whine, and struggle against your embarrassment, but still he hovers there between your legs. He's so close to giving you delicious pleasure, but he just won't do it, and the need to be touched in a more satisfying way is driving you crazy. You steel yourself.

"Please, James," you beg, "lick my pussy now. I really need it." And even as you fight against the mortifying feeling of shame, you feel his wet tongue slide up and along the lips of your pussy, up over your clit and away again, and you cry out loud at the pleasure of it. "Oh, God, James," you gasp, and your whole body is quivering fire. You move to put your hands on his head, but you are brought up short by the ties, and you remember that you're trapped there. His tongue slides again, this time slipping between your lips and dipping inside of you. It flicks up and dances a small circle around your clit before washing up and down again. It feels like his tongue is everywhere at once. Your hips grind in the air, trying to find the contact that is just right. Already you can feel a pressure in your groin, the beginnings of your climax. It's there so much more quickly than usual, and you rotate your hips against his tongue, trying to get the rhythm right. There is no other contact, just his tongue inside of you in the darkness.

You can't stop yourself from moaning and gasping out loud now, all concern for the loudness of your noises swept away in a wave of pleasure. He pulls away, and new sensation assaults you as you feel a finger slide slowly inside of you. You groan, and clench your muscles as he pushes a second finger inside. As he does so, he begins whispering dirty things...

"God, your pussy tastes so good, Alyssa."

"I love the way your pussy squeezes my fingers, Alyssa."

"You like it when I do this, don't you, Alyssa?"

You're mindless, now, hips grinding against his fingers as he urges you on. Your head tosses as his fingers slide in and out of you, making slick, wet noises. He leans in between your thighs again, and whispers against your pussy,

"I'm going to make you come now, Alyssa." A thrill shoots through you at his words, and you can feel the wave starting to build. He curves his fingers, pulling across the inside of your pussy, and he begins to do so rhythmically, rubbing your g-spot in firm strokes. Your body is on fire now, slick with sweat, your breath coming in staccato gasps. Suddenly, his mouth closes around your clit, and he begins sucking you into his mouth, all the while his fingers continuing their maddening dance. Inside his mouth, his tongue teases back and forth against your clit, and the wave leaps forward, and you're so close, so close. You can't help it -- your thighs close, trapping him there. He moans into your pussy, and you realize how turned on he is. Together with the vibration from his moan, it pushes you over the edge, and your body goes rigid as your orgasm crashes down onto you, your pussy spasming frantically around his fingers. Your back arches and it seems like every muscle in your body is as taut as possible as throbbing waves of pleasure course through your body. You cry out with each spasm. It seems like they will never stop, until finally they begin to subside, and he pulls away, leaving you in a boneless, gasping heap on the bed.

He moves around and unhooks your wrists from the bedpost, and pulls you up to sit on the edge of the bed again. It feels good to have your arms relaxing in your lap again. You are sweaty and exhausted, but still basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.

"Do you want to feel what you do to me, Alyssa?" he asks. It reminds you that your pleasure had wiped all other thoughts from your mind, and now you imagine him again, standing before you, and how turned on he had sounded just before you came.

"Yes, please," you reply. In response, he grasps both of your wrists and pulls them towards him. His erection slides between your cupped hands, still bound at the wrists, and you close one hand around him. You can feel the full head of his cock, the stiffness of his shaft, the taut vein underneath, and another shiver of excitement runs though you. You squeeze him gently, and slide your hand up and down a few times, but you're both hot and sticky, and it doesn't slide smoothly. You release him, and move lower to cup his balls. It feels so good to have some autonomy, the ability to touch at will, and you focus on every sensation. In the dark, he seems impossibly masculine, all wiry, cropped hairs and hard throbbing, as if the darkness has distilled him to the pure essence of man.

Suddenly, the urge to taste him is overpowering, but you're not sure what is permitted.

"I want you in my mouth, James," you say, hesitantly.

"Ask me for it," he directs.

"Can I have you in my mouth?" you ask, bluntly.

"Show me how much you want it," he says. You take a deep breath, marshalling your embarrassment again.

"God, James, please put your cock in my mouth," you beg him.

"Good girl, Alyssa," he replies, and you can feel him shifting his body toward you. His hand presses against the back of your head, gently guiding you in his direction. You open your mouth in anticipation. The musky scent of his sweat fills your nostrils, and you feel a warm softness against your lips. You close them around the very tip of him, and your tongue darts out to moisten the soft skin there. You hear him gasp and pull back, and you are left waiting again. He guides you forward again, and this time the head of his cock slides along your lips from left to right. Abruptly, you realize he is holding himself in his hand, guiding himself to rub against your lips. Lightly, he taps himself against you so that you can feel his hardness bouncing against your lips. Your hands, trapped beneath him, tease gently, pulling softly on his balls.

He tangles the fingers of his left hand in your hair, pulling you forward more forcefully now, and this time he presses against your lips until they part and he slides inside. He pushes slowly and shallowly in and out of your mouth, and you moan around him, swirl your tongue to make him slick with your saliva. You can hear his ragged breaths, and the wet sounds of his cock sliding into your mouth. He groans and pushes forward further. Your hands slide between his legs. You reach up and grab his ass, pulling it towards you, exerting the only control you can. He slides deep into your mouth with a loud groan, and you can feel the velvety soft skin of his cock filling your mouth. His hand grips your hair still, pulling you all the way off of him before sliding you back down on his cock again and again. You begin to assert yourself, bobbing your head up and down on his shaft, reveling in his moans and the taut muscles of his butt, straining towards you. He's getting close -- you can tell by the quickness of his breath, and the tightness of his muscles. You slide your fingers, probing for his anus as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. You can't wait for him to come, to feel the salty flood of his sperm on your tongue, and you quicken your pace further, but just when you think you have him, he pulls away, leaving you gasping for breath.

Urgently, he grabs you by the shoulders and stands you up. He turns you around, bending you over so that your torso lies on the bed. You feel his cock bumping against your thighs from behind, and then he's guiding it between your legs. He slides his head across your lips, your saliva mixing with his down there. He probes and finds the opening.

"Are you ready to be fucked, Alyssa?" he asks, pressing against the opening of your pussy. He pushes slightly, and the swollen head of his cock slips inside of you, drawing a moan of pleasure from your throat.

"Oh God, yes, James, fuck me now, please!" you say, no longer embarrassed in the slightest. He pulls out again, leaving you quivering, and again slips the fat head inside. His hands are nowhere to be found. All you can feel is his cock teasing you, and the press of his body against your ass. He keeps doing this until you realize you are whispering to him naughtily, begging him to put his cock all the way inside of you.

Finally, finally, he obliges. His hands materialize on your hips, and with one smooth motion he pulls your pussy back onto him, impaling you to the hilt. You throb with pleasure and cry out, and push back onto him. With his warm hands on your hips, he holds you firmly and begins to thrust into you. With each thrust, he pulls you hard onto him, combining the power of his hips with that of his arms. He begins a steady rhythm, slamming into you with fierce determination. You are both groaning and breathing heavily, and each thrust takes him all the way inside of you, his balls slamming against you. Your hands, still knotted, are trapped in front of you. There is nothing you can do but submit to his assault. You are both speaking, a stream of erotic encouragement falling from your. You can feel him tensing up, and you know he's close.