I Like That It's You

'I've got to be honest,' Libby said as she sat down next to me, her stylish mess of dirty-blonde hair needing brushed from her face. The sofa was a tired old thing, and complained as we sat together, which was stupid as Libby was tiny, and I was no juggernaut either. 'I've had my eye on you for a while.'

I tried not to give away my excitement, then realised that was a stupid idea and I should just be honest. 'That's fantastic,' I said. 'Because the only reason I came is that Peter said you'd come.'

'Did he?' she asked, her eyebrow a fair line of consideration.

It was my best friend Peter's 30th, and he was throwing a lame barbeque-slash-house party to celebrate the night away. Only, I wasn't planning on coming - I had work in the morning, and me and Peter saw each other almost every day, so there wasn't much ceremony in me being there.

But then he'd mentioned Libby, knowing it would snare me. Like a moth to a firecracker, I was in.

'Uh-huh. So, you've had your eye on me?'

She nodded, looking exceptionally cool in a tartan skirt and fishnet leggings that ended in thick boots. She was a bit of a metalhead, proved by her sleeve of tattoos covering her left arms, but they were all floral and of nature. She'd told me once before that if she could have been anything else in life, he would be a druid.

'And why's that?' I asked, trying to match her cool, despite the fact that I was wearing a polo shirt and black trousers I hadn't gotten a chance to take off after work. Being a teacher attending a party on a Thursday night at 5pm meant sacrifices were made.

'I just feel like...' she paused, searching for the right words, before shuffling a little. The side of her boob pressed into my arm as she looked up at me, her diminutive frame contrasting the power she seemed to hold in her at all times. 'You could handle me.'

Ah. Peter had told me all about Libby, after all. She was a known party-girl, going to gigs every other school night - look at me, talking about weekdays as 'school nights' - and drinking herself into rehab by the time she was twenty two. That was years ago, though, and as she was sat with a diet coke in her hand while the rest of the room sipped room-temperature beers.

There were maybe thirty people at his party, all packed into his livingroom and kitchen, with a few outside around the barbeque. It might as well have been empty, though, as Libby had well and truly snagged my attention.

Peter had also mentioned that Libby was into some rather hardcore sex stuff. He never went into details, usually citing 'it's not my business' as an excuse to stop after remarking on the noise she would make through the walls, back when they lived together at Uni. Apparently she had a hell of a sexual appetite, and wasn't exactly tight-lipped about it. One time in particular, the last year they lived together, back when we were all in our early twenties, I came over in the morning to see Peter to pick something up - I can't remember what. All I remember was the sounds of Libby and another girl, both grunting and moaning in pleasure as they fucked somewhere upstairs, the walls no match for their sex. It was hypnotic, and I've never forgotten it.

This, of course, wasn't going to be a deal-breaker in the slightest. While never having been a sexual dynamo myself, Libby had the kind of features that always got me going. She was truly beautiful, the tattoos and piercings in her lip and nose only serving to heighten her looks, like flourishes on a work of art. The leather and metal music gave her an air of danger, compounded by her devil-may-care attitude. Plus, you know, knowing about her sex drive was a massive turn on.

I took a drink of my fanta - also a tee-totaller - and shrugged, trying to be cool. 'I reckon I could.'

She looked at me, that mischievous arched eyebrow matched by a glitter in her eyes. She leaned in, so her ruby-red lips could brush my earlobe. I shifted in my seat, trying not to let my semi show to the room. 'All of me?'

I thought about the sounds of Libby and the mystery girl, as I had almost every night for the past six or seven years, and turned to her. Our faces were an inch away, and she seemed to react well to the confidence I was mustering from somewhere.

'With pleasure.'

She smirked, shifting in her own seat, only looking up as Peter approached. He was clearly a bit buzzed, and cheered as he saw us. 'HEYY!!'

He dropped, sitting between us, forcing me and Libby almost onto the arms of the chair to accommodate him. 'Libby and Elliot! You two getting along nicely?'

I nodded. 'Absolutely. Having a good night?'

Peter nodded. 'Hell yeah, man. Hell yeah. Listen, I know you have work in the morning, but what time do you think you'll be here till?'

I checked my watch, balking to see it was already half eight. God, I was boring.

'Uhh, actually, I'd best be heading off soon.'

His face fell comically, the alcohol painting his every thought on his features. 'No!'

'Yes! I have to be at school in the morning, you knew that!'

Libby eyed me again. 'That's right, you're a teacher,' she murmured, seemingly just remembering. I wondered if it was honest, or if it was a show for Peter, to put him off the scent we were definitely giving off.

'Right, well... I guess I'll see you tomorrow?'

I chuckled. 'Sure, man. I'll see you then.'

Peter wandered off to mingle, and I felt Libby's gaze on me. 'I'm heading off, then,' I announced to her, though it came out sounding like a dare. Convince me not to.

'Uh-huh, I heard,' she said. Not that easy to goad me, Elliot.

I sighed, standing. She followed, standing with me, and as I pulled on my jacket she found her on the back of the door. I tried to suppress a smile, knowing it might be a game. She might just be having me on, making fun of me or something. She could be like that.

Then, as she met me at Peter's front door, I thought, maybe not.

She looked up at me, barely over five feet tall, and yet she exuded confidence. 'Yours or mine?'

I played dumb, knowing where this was going. Or, at least hoping. 'Whatever for?'

She shrugged. 'So I can fuck you senselss, obviously.'

I gawked at her words, certain other people at the party would have heard her, but Libby seemed completely oblivious to them.

I was about to say mine, being all confident and that, when I remembered that I lived alone, and that my flat wasn't exactly the epitome of 'sexy' that the night demanded.

'How about yours?' I suggested, as Libby pulled her phone out to order a car.

'Don't you have school in the morning?'

'They'll survive without me for a day.'

'A whole day? You want to commit to that?' She seemed genuinely surprised, or maybe impressed.

And, trust me, I know I'm no adonis, I'm not Casanova or whatever, but Libby had held a place in my heart (and other anatomical regions) for years. I was not shying away from this willingly.

'Give me ten minutes to call in tomorrow morning, and I'm all yours.'

She smiled at that. 'Deal. Car's two minutes away.'

'How should we spend it?'

She shrugged, her jacket rustling in the way cheap leather only can. She stepped further out, and I shut the door behind us. As soon as it closed, she turned to meet my eyes again.

'Are you sure about this?' she asked, seeming concerned.

I stifled a laugh. 'Are you kidding? Lib, I'm man enough to say I've literally dreamt of tonight.'

'Oh yeah? And how does it go, usually? In your dreams?'

'Well, I'm very charming, and you're very beautiful, and we realise we've been circling each other for the past seven years without ever colliding - and how much of a waste that's been.'

'Are we colliding tonight?'

'I think we're getting there,' I said. God, she was easy to talk to. Easy to flirt with. I was surprising myself.

'What happens then?' she asked.

'Then we find a bed and fuck it in.'

She laughed at that point, and I managed to laugh too. My ego complained, of course, that she was laughing at the idea of having sex with me, but I pushed that down. Doubt wasn't getting to me. Not tonight. No second guessing, Elliot.

'As long as you know what you're in for,' she mused.

Before I could give another well-crafted quip, her phone beeped, just as a silver honda pulled up.

'Elizabeth?' the cabby asked, and Libby sighed.

'That's us.'

We climbed into the car, the smell of disinfectant and stale cigarettes making a contrasting medley in the air, and settled in.

'You want Bardugg Way?' the driver asked.

'Number twelve,' Libby nodded, before sitting back. Suddenly, we had swapped sides - on the sofa I was on the right, now I was on the left. Something had shifted.

The drive was short, but the tension made it agony. Libby was a master at the art of 'hovering', making little actions that kept me revved up. Her legs pressed against mine; her hand placed innocently on her hip, which meant she was in constant contact with my pelvis; leaning against me to ensure I could feel her chest on my arms. Even her eyes, dark and mischievous, sent a shiver through me upon each glance. She was an expert. I was putty in her tiny hands.

When we pulled up to her house, a decent size seeing as I knew she lived alone too, I had to make an effort to hide my erection from the cabbie. Libby gave me knowing smirks as I pointed my front away from the car, adjusting myself less than covertly as she said thanks.

'Comfortable, Elliot?' she teased, her lips making a devil's smile.

'Tease,' I growled.

'You ain't seen nothin' yet!' She bounced past me, pulled her keys out, and let herself into the house. I followed, and as soon as we were inside, we were on each other.

I'm not sure who moved first, but within seconds her lips were on mine, hands exploring under shirts and gripping hair. Moans and grunts escaped both of us as we traveled to the staircase, each as eager to get started as the other.

She pulled off me, her eyes closed in a slight daze, and ran upstairs. Her hair was even more of a mess now, and I watched hungrily her hips as they swayed, my vantage point giving me a cock-stirring perspective of her fishnet legs, her skirt casting a shadow over her seductive rear.

'Fuck, you're gorgeous,' I whined, following her up.

She had me chase her down the corridor, only stopping as we crossed into her bedroom. The lights flicked on, and I was stunned.

It was almost a sex den. Honest to God, it was like I had walked into a dungeon from some S&M-style music video or something. Her bed, the center piece, had a tall, strong-looking metal frame with loops every few inches, some of which had rope tied on, hanging limp. Her bedding was plain, but cleanly made, which was almost funny compared to the rest of the room.

All of the styling was dark, gothic-esque, so much so that even with the lights on it took me a moment to see the details.

Lining one wall, taking up three shelves, were a selection of sex toys - dildos, anal plugs, as well as whips and chains, all arranged for use. They were pride of place over a chest, the contents of which I couldn't begin to imagine. The other side of the room was a work-desk, with three monitors set up in a slight concave around a desk. At the moment, they were dark.

The floor was cold wood, covered by a thick shaggy grey rug that ran under the bed, muffling the sounds as Libby stepped in, kicking off her shoes.

'I told you it was a lot.'

I nodded, realising my shock must be apparent.

'You can still back out,' she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. But, when I looked at her, she was in the middle of unbuttoning her shirt, her breasts pushing out from underneath deliberately to tease me, with no bra to speak of. She was showing off, now.

But, god, was she a wet dream walking.

Her bust wasn't enormous, but for her size they were generous, and as they were revealed bit by bit with each popped button I felt my reluctance washing away.

I shook my head. 'I told you, this is happening.'

She smiled, and it felt less tantalising this time - more genuine. 'Yeah?'

'Abso-fucking-lutely!'

She bounded forwards as her shirt came undone, leaving her in only the fishnets and tartan skirt, and pressed herself against me. Our lips met, and as her tongue probed by lips I couldn't stop a moan from rolling into her. I tasted her tongue, and she moaned back, my hands finding their way to her bare back. She purred as I stroked her, giving her a light scratch up her shoulder blades, fingers then sliding down her sides to the waist of her skirt.

Her hands caught my wrists, stopping me. She pulled off, biting my lip for a moment in a way that made my knees weak.

'That's only for boys who do as they're told,' she whispered, before pulling my hands behind her to her butt. 'This, you can play with. For now.'

I laughed at her silliness, before kneading her cheeks in earnest. She was soft and firm, and soon I was gripping the small of her back as we kissed again, with one hand still on her firm buttocks. She mewled into my mouth as we travelled to the bed, the backs of my knees hitting the frame and causing me to sit. Happily, this actually put me on a level playing field with her, and allowed my kisses to move down her jaw and neck, each one rewarded with a different sound of approval from my beautiful lover.

I travelled down, hands on her back and butt, to kiss her breasts.

'Yesss,' she hissed as my lips found her right nipple. I sucked it into my mouth, delighted by the chirp she gave, before using my tongue and teeth to tease her until she squirmed.

'Now the other,' she whispered, and I obliged, kissing my way across her bust. As I kissed and suckled her, her hands found my scalp, holding me in place as she nursed me. 'Bite me,' she whispered, her voice lusciously shaky.

My teeth gripped her nipple lightly, and I pulled just a little before releasing. She gasped, her hands gripping my hair slightly tighter. 'Again,' she ordered. I did it again, slightly harder, holding the pull for slightly longer. 'Oh, yes Elliot baby, do it again.'

For five or so minutes, I made aggressive love to her wondrous tits, feeling my erection inside my trousers grow steel-hard. Eventually, however, she was satisfied, and she pulled off.

She held me cheeks and jaw, strangely dominant, and made me meet her eyes.

'I'm going to tie you up, okay Elliot?'

I nodded, excited for where this was going.

'Have you ever been tied up before?'

'No.'

'You're going to love it. Have you ever done... anal, before?'

I gulped. 'Yes.' Once, badly - but I wasn't going to mention that.

'Would anal be a reward for you?'

I nodded again.

'Then, do everything I say, and everything I want, and you can have your reward.' She smiled sweetly, and kissed me. 'Deal?'

'Deal.' No going back now.

'Okay, lie back on the bed. I need to get you into place for me.'

She spent the next few minutes stripping me, each piece of clothing unceremoniously peeled from my body before being thrown into a pile on the floor. My shirt first, which allowed my hands to be tied to the headboard, stretched outwards. Then, my socks and trousers, followed by my boxers. My cock sprang free, and Libby gave it an... interesting look, before moving away without having touched it. I groaned, and she smiled.

'You'll get what you want,' she said, securing my left ankle in a belt-like thing attached to a rope that went through one of the higher hoops on the bed frame. 'As long as I get what I want...' The other ankle was secured, again to a rope looped through a high hoop. 'Perfect.'

Next - thankfully - she straddled me, sitting on my chest like she was riding a horse. Well, soon I hoped she would be. Heh.

'Usually, I like to gag my lovers,' she said, pulling out something that looked like a ball-gag, but with an open hole where the ball usually is. 'But that means no safeword. Would you be gagged for me?' she asked, her voice sweet as honey. It would have been impossible for me to resist anyway, but as she asked she started rocking herself against me, and the movement was making my cock bounce behind her. It bumped her backside, and she giggled, turning slightly to reach round and grab it.

Her hand was tiny, too small to get all the way around, and was heaven. She started to stroke me with the lightest touch I had ever felt, almost tickling my shaft up to the head, and without touching my most sensitive part backing off.

She's the devil, I thought.

'Gag me,' I said, deciding to throw caution to the wind. I'd never done anything like this, so why not go for broke?

'Good boy,' she purred, leaning onto me to secure the gag into my mouth. It stretched my jaw open, and my teeth fell into little ridges on the top and bottom to keep me gaped open, like a hungry fish. I felt ridiculous, but the look of satisfaction on Libby's face as she observed her work made it worth it. Plus, as she learnt down, her tits pressed into my chest, her pert nipples dragging along my skin as she got me in place.

I was at her mercy. Limbs tied to her bed, mouth gagged, cock hard and ignored. I knew I would be close to begging for her touch, was I still able to beg.

She sat up, swaying slightly to the music, her eyes closed as she shifted atop me. I groaned, though it came out as an empty whine, as she gyrated on my pelvis, her fishnets rubbing into my naked skin, her hands stroking my chest as I watched her breasts. I was hypnotised, completely under her spell. Her tattoos, I could see now, crested over her shoulder and filtered to her pectorals, tastefully shaping just the edge of her mounds, like an ornate frame of a painting.

Libby bit her lip as her fingers found my mouth, slipping in to touch my tongue. It was an intrusion I couldn't stop, and didn't want to, so I slid my tongue around her digits. I tasted her, the slight echo of the coke she was drinking earlier tonight. Sweet.

'Hmm, that's nice,' she sighed. 'Now I have you, I should say - I really have had my eye on you for a while. And hearing that you're... that you know about me, and you still want this... nothing could make me happier.'

Beneath the lust in her hooded eyes, and the undeniable sensuality of her body atop mine, teasing me in such perfected measures, there was an air of honesty, of vulnerability about her. That was the Libby I was interested in. The substance beneath.

She gripped my length again, making my breath hitch as she stroked me. She sat up, her chest pushed out above me, and I had the most amazing view of her hard nipples as she felt me.

'What are you, about six inches?' she asked. The question took me back - most women weren't interested in length. Call me arrogant, but in my experience it was more about how you used it. Plus, there were always other ways to give a woman pleasure. Not that I've ever had complaints. I nodded, and she put her other hand back on my chin, fingers in the gap in my gag, holding me like a handle

'I don't know how much Pete told you,' she said, letting go of my length, and lifting her skirt up. 'But I'm just under eight.'

That's when I saw it. My eyes felt like they bugged out of my head, as I saw a bulge in her light-blue boxers that were hidden under the skirt, promising the reveal of something else. Something big within.

I wracked my brain - had I known this?

The obvious answer was no - I didn't have any knowledge ahead of time. Except, of course, a few things that were clicking into place. The presence of what were clearly male-usage sex toys around the room, like cock rings and prostate massagers; the fact that she had said she thought I could handle 'all of her', which was ambiguous but made more sense now; and the way I remember her saying she was going to fuck me. I was the fuckee.