I Say Ass, You Say Arse: Contrasts

"Does it?" His mind had gone blank.

Rachel grinned at him, as predatory as he'd ever seen a woman be. "Hell, yes! Finished? Come on, my boy, let's go experiment!"

Bradley felt horribly nervous. But he did trust Rachel not to harm him, making him also fascinated and aroused. And while he was hardly an athlete, he reckoned he could take her in a fight, should it ever be needed. Some naked wrestling might be enjoyable, even.

She cupped one hand round his face, once they were alone in an elevator. "You're going to be fun, I reckon. Are you looking forward to this?" She added her other hand, to hold his head close to hers. "Just think. My sweet arse, promised to you for the evening."

She brought his head to a point where he could kiss her, if he wanted. "Are you the kind

of hooker who kisses?" she breathed.

"I'm a high class escort, thank you! I can kiss. If you want," he added hastily.

They kissed. As soon as their mouths touched, Rachel seemed to relax, rolling him into the wall. Her tongue and lips were soft, yet firm, all over his face. He managed to reach around her to hold her close, his face happily on hers, then reached down to her fine ass.

Handfuls of warm leather, curved in that way that only a woman's ass could be. Bradley had never had a leather fetish, but now, with Rachel in his arms, he understood why people did. Somehow she was pressing against his crotch, too. He wasn't trying to prevent his resulting erection. If anyone saw him rock-hard while walking down the corridor with Rachel, it would be totally understandable!

She held her door open for him to step through. The room was similar to Emily's, another view of various rooftops. Bradley had no time to observe, because Rachel pulled them both onto the bed, grabbing at him all over.

They made out passionately, like any couple doing it for the first time, who already know they both want sex. Both wanting anal sex just added to the excitement. Bradley enjoyed the force somehow pressing over his dick, Rachel gripping his butt in a great way. He reached down to put his hand up between her legs.

He wasn't expecting to feel much apart from warm, smooth leather, but fondling that seemed important. Leather-covered female thighs...

He really wasn't expecting to feel a hard lump in the way.

"Oh, fuck," Rachel swore. "I'm so sorry! I forgot... This morning, before Emma left? Kin'ell, I didn't mean to freak you... not like this... sorry..." She couldn't look at him.

"You...?"

"No, I'm not a woman with a cock! I mean, it is, but it's fake. Silicone."

Having made her confession, Rachel spoke more calmly. "I was using it last night, and Emma suggested I put it back in place after my shower this morning... yeah. Anyway, then she left, I had to run to this seminar, like..."

Bradley started to breathe more easily. He liked to think of himself as open-minded, but he knew he really was not into men. He had thought that basically meant no penises. Trust Rachel to make it more complicated!

He also knew that Rachel was still hot as hell, with or without wearing her leather.

He certainly wasn't going to let any sex toy prevent him getting at that wonderful ass.

"That's OK. Just remember, I take your ass, nothing enters mine. Got it?"

She was trying to hide relief, he could tell. She joked, "Nothing? Nothing at all? Not even a teensy little finger?"

As he shook his head, she added, "But serious, have you even tried? Oh, come on, man! Not even a wee slimline butt plug? Nothing, ever? Seriously, boy, you need to consider it. So many men don't get over that hang-up for years and regret missing out." She looked him up and down. "Also, you've got too many clothes on."

In an authoritative, 'I've hired a hooker' voice, she added, "Strip, for me."

Bradley started to unbutton his shirt. Rachel lay back on the bed, attempting to hide what he could now tell was a bulge in her leather pants.

He had no worries about exposing the top half of his body. As he sat to remove his socks, he said defensively, "I really don't think my prostate is missing anything. I'm not one of those guys who gets off from taking a shit."

"Tschuh." Rachel was contemptuous. "Women don't have prostates at all! Don't diss it until you've tried it, is all I'm saying. Keep going, ditch those trousers. I suppose you'll say you've never been rimmed, either?"

Bradley concentrated on removing one leg, then the other, out of his pants, and didn't answer.

"Huh? I've heard you do it enthusiastically, so you must have thought about it. So?"

"So, what?"

"So, get those briefs off so I can see what I've paid for! As it were. And then, let's get in this generously-sized shower cubicle so we can both get all happy and relaxed about licking and tasting each other anywhere..."

Bradley stripped off the last item of clothing. He stood with his hands on his hips, at an angle to her, to show himself in the best light. Her clear appraisal of his naked body made him feel, again, like a purchase.

It was quite erotic, being wanted as an expensive object.

"You'll need to get naked too, ma'am."

"Ma'am? I'm not the Queen!" Though her accent could pass as aristocracy.

Emily was right: she was just English, not posh at all, but Rachel was the real deal for classy English-accented fantasies... Lady Heather from CSI, only with even more humor and snark hiding her mistrustful streak, that was Rachel.

"What would you like me to call you, then?"

She chuckled. "It was just odd, but sure, 'ma'am' will do. Or 'madam', going old-school -- literally." She seemed to be laughing at some private joke. "I mean, I'd love you to call me Mistress, but I don't know if you'd be up for anything that went with that, so park that for now. Just Rachel is fine. Come on, you gorgeous naked boy, help me get this top off over my head..."

He obliged.

Their cocks pressed together again, his skin against the crotch of her black leather, but it didn't seem weird, now.

Bradley reached down her back and thanked his understanding God that Rachel's bra only had one hook, which he could undo one-handed.

He didn't have to fake his lecherousness as he looked her up and down, then held her bare chest to his naked body.

Sure, her breasts were small, but perfectly formed, sticking out just enough to tempt him. 'Small ones are sweeter,' he'd read once, though that had been a kids' book talking about worms... Donuts might be a better comparison -- he'd happily lick sugar off these... He took a daring lick.

"You still want that shower, ma'am? You'll need fewer clothes on."

"One moment." She stepped away from him, sat down on the bed, removed both leather pants and her knee-high heeled boots. Those boots, all by themselves, made him think more sexy thoughts. After Rachel, he bet a lot of men -- no, people -- acquired a new appreciation for leather! She wore black men's jersey shorts beneath, and started to push them down.

"Sorry. You probably didn't want to see this." The underwear dropped to the floor. He caught a glimpse of straps and a dark protrusion.

She turned round, fumbling with a buckle of the crotch harness.

The view exposed to Bradley was of Rachel's bare round ass. The black rubber belt across her hips, plus a diagonal black strap across each pale pink buttock, highlighted a triangle of perfect ass. Especially the deep valley between her firm ass cheeks.

"Oh, man, that's glorious... Fuck me, you've got a hot ass!" He leapt over to fondle it.

Rachel half-turned back to him. "Seriously?"

There was a large black thing sticking out, a cock, but it was smooth. Silicone, she'd said. It wasn't a penis. He could ignore it and think just about the parts of Rachel he liked to think about. Any of the rest of her, really. Especially that round ass.

"Hell, yeah! Y'know, it sets off your butt so nicely. Those black straps, your ass... Yeah." He shrugged. "Leave it on."

He noticed Rachel's immediate switch, from hugely embarrassed -- no, scared -- to merely mild awkwardness. Growing in confidence.

Bradley knew he'd said the right thing. Not just because he was being paid.

"OK. If you're sure."

He'd never seen Rachel looking shy before. But as she tried to sashay confidently back to him -- as if she weren't confronting the straight guy with her dick that she was clearly rather fond of, however much it might be removable -- that look on her face was distinctly nervous.

Never an expression he'd expected to see on her, though her veneer of sarcasm had always suggested she feared something. Rejection for being either queer or not queer enough, he'd deduced. Now, add 'too male' as a concern. Possibly, previously, 'not male enough'? Bradley wasn't sure he had any words to reassure her.

He pulled her to face away from him, using the cock as a handle, proving to himself he could cope with it. Now, there wasn't just her beautiful muscular ass all framed by the black rubber, but beneath, another display: two white thighs, a tempting line where they met.

Getting his hands all over both images was probably his best bet for showing Rachel he was quite happy to enjoy her as she was. While her backside faced him, he could grind against her ass, and hold her tight. And get his hand over her cute little titties.

There was something about Rachel's matter-of-fact almost-laddishness that made him think of her having 'titties', whereas Emily's elegant curves triggered the word 'breasts'. Once she was topless and he had his face buried in them, maybe 'puppies' or 'pillows'...

He forced himself to concentrate on Rachel. It was odd, how her tall lithe body was almost boyish, but the cock didn't make her any more or less so, in his eyes. As if testing him, she turned round to face him, those little breasts in his chest harder than Emily's, her face only two inches lower than his, her hands on his bare ass, his reaching down to hers, tentative, knowing what was between them.

Bradley rapidly confirmed two facts. One, that he liked any pressure rubbing against his cock. Two, that his libido recognised Rachel was a woman, one hot sexy woman. If she happened to be wearing a cock-like projection, that was irrelevant. Her cock pressed up and down against his, until he was as hard as she was.

"Mm. Nice to see you waking up. But I need that shower before you come near my arse."

"May I join you?" he asked.

Rachel shrugged. "If you want." She hesitated, as if she were reluctant to unbuckle the crotch harness.

Bradley realised he really didn't mind her cock being there, covering her short dark curls. It seemed to make her look right, somehow. Or just happy? Maybe happiness was a good enough reason for wearing a cock? He couldn't exactly argue. His own cock's existence made him very happy, after all.

"Seriously, keep it on," he told her.

"What?"

"It's waterproof, right?"

"Rubber, yes. You mean..."

"Shush. Remember, I'm yours for the night, yeah? Let me get you clean, then watch you in the shower, all wet and beautiful. You are, you know, even if you happen to include a sticky-out bit. So long as your outie doesn't scare my innie, we're good! And I promise not to sneak my outie into any innies of yours. Not until I'm invited." He grimaced. "God, I sound like my Grandma, doing her jigsaw puzzles!"

"Bradley? Shut up." Rachel tapped his lips in reproof, then bent to kiss them. "Now, you were the kind of whore who kissed..."

She kissed him, enthusiastically. He responded. Their tongues fought. It didn't surprise him that Rachel pushed her tongue forward, attacking his mouth, just as much as he did to hers. He rather liked her aggression. It made the moments when she tenderly ran the tip of her tongue over his even more special.

"Come on, mate, let's get wet. As it were."

He moved to the bathroom. He could tell he was being watched, and turned back to face Rachel's appraising gaze. "You like what you see?"

Rachel shrugged, then frowned, having not meant to be rude. "I like your body. Nice male shape. Nice arse. Just, I never really like looking at cocks." Was that a lie? Some, she did. Very few, though. Something about the fat pinkness put her off. She supposed, she hadn't really liked watching penises, ever. But then there had been seeing Atif's dark chestnut one, when she'd watched him taking his boyfriend in a nightclub. She supposed it wasn't the looks so much that deterred her, as the load of white male entitlement that generally went with a cock.

She clarified, "I do like what guys can do with their cocks. Sometimes. Feeling one inside me, if they're actually trying to make it good for me. I mean, yours looks like it can do the job, right? Sorry, I don't mean to be putting you down. It. I'll shut up now. Aargh. Sorry."

She stepped into the shower cubicle, generously-sized to fit them both. Awkward again, she silently pulled him towards her. Hot water sprayed down over both of them, bouncing back off the clouded glass doors.

"Hold me?"

He hugged her and held on.

"Yeah. You're all right, mate, y'know? Good body, I like it, I like you..." She kissed him, wonderful soft skin held tight to his. He enjoyed kissing her back, trying to soothe her worries. Perhaps he was a service worth paying for, after all?

They cleaned each other thoroughly. More than was really needed. Soapy foam had to be rubbed over every inch of skin and into every crevice, right?

Somehow, Brad had got used to Rachel's cock very quickly. It hid her pussy, that secret passage which was partly forbidden to him, even if his hands and mouth were allowed to explore it. That sense of the forbidden made it as erotic as her asshole, as he gently stretched her vagina around a couple of his muscular fingers.

She liked it, for a few minutes. "Mm... Nice, but let's get back to that big bed," she told him. They dried, briskly. "Lie down, mate. No, on your front so I can stroke your back and your legs... And your arse."

He was slightly shorter than Emma. Broader in the shoulders and chest, furry legs. Strong, and big enough to be satisfying to hold onto. No breasts, of course -- though possibly sensitive nipples -- but really lovely bum-cheeks for her to play with. Rachel straddled his legs and started to massage him, luxuriating in this large warm body on her bed, even if it wasn't her Emma.

Different, and interestingly novel. Not bad things at all. Having a satisfying live dick for the first time in three years should be good, too. She'd had men, twice, in that time, but had regretted lowering her standards both times. Especially for the one with a big cock.

Whereas Bradley didn't think he was the stud women had been waiting for. So Rachel figured he was much more likely to satisfy her, simply because he wanted to try. He was growing in his quiet confidence, which itself was sexy, in a subtle way. His cock looked a fair size, so with a mere bit of consideration in how he wielded it...

He really was a sweetie. Not running away at the sight of her cock really ought to be rewarded, she decided. After some more massaging of his arse and thighs, she spoke.

"You like women in stockings, Emily said?"

"What man doesn't? Why?"

"One moment."

Rachel took something from her case into the bathroom. When she returned a minute later, she'd loosed and brushed her dark brown hair, which now fell over her shoulders with a sultry curl, touched up her lipstick, and put on hold-up stockings.

The tops of her white thighs were now highlighted not only by her dark cock emerging from her pubic area, but also by her legs now covered in black mesh -- too fine and classy to call fishnet, both legs topped with a deep stretch of black lace.

Even if Bradley hadn't already had a bit of a thing for stockings, he'd have moaned at the sight. When she turned around, rubber straps framing that perfect white ass, now all clean and ready for him to shove his face into, he panted, wanting it.

"Oh, boy..."

"You like what you see, boy?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Are you ready to please me?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Do you promise to lick my arsehole and stick fingers in my pussy and fuck my arse?"

"Oh God, yes, please, ma'am!"

She eyed him curiously. "Is that your respectful rent-boy act, or are you actually a submissive, all wanting to be ordered around?"

He considered, seeing as she wanted an answer. "I thought it was just the first. But I can't deny, Emily telling me what she wanted -- and now you... I dunno..."

"Uh-huh. It gets you hard, is that what you mean?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, you are sweet! But that's the level of idea you're playing with, good to know."

"As opposed to?"

Rachel gave him a very serious look, not sexy at all. Then she gripped his shoulder, ran her eyes down his body and up again, lingering over his stirring cock, and spat harshly, "As opposed to you knowing you're a cocksucker, who needs to be on his knees, worshipping my dick. Opening his mouth for cock, knowing he really wants to try it, and wants to learn how it feels being fucked. Being bent over, his hole being fingered, then taking it, hard. Like a good submissive boy. Doing what he's told. Like a woman..."

Her voice had become deep and stern. Back in her normal voice -- no, a more smooth, rounded upper-class version than her usual London accent, more like some of the ladies he'd heard in the town -- she continued, "Or, you know, don't. It's really not obligatory, no matter what any twat in a queer nightclub tries to tell you. Yeah. That's not your kind of fantasy, I'm guessing?"

"I'm sure I don't want to get fucked," he agreed, "even if it's not by a guy."

"Fair enough." She seemed rigid again, suddenly, so he kissed her forehead, her mouth, and began to kiss down her body. After paying special attention to her little titties, he continued down to her stomach. Then Bradley thought, what the hell.

He knelt.

Her large, black, erect, fake-cock was just below his face.

He glanced up to look at Rachel's expression. She still seemed a little embarrassed, but no longer scared.

Thing was, it wasn't a penis. It wasn't on a man. It didn't smell like a locker room or used underwear. There was no hair, no pulsating veins -- however much the sculptor had tried with some bulging ridges. No leaking at the tip. Anything he did with it, part of her, part of a woman, didn't make him a cocksucker.

Not a gay cocksucker, anyhow. The thought occurred to him that he might not mind Rachel calling him a cocksucker, nor anything else she wanted to call him, if it pleased her.

He leant forward and carefully licked the end of her cock. Because what it was, was part of Rachel. Which made it Rachel's cock. And he wanted to satisfy Rachel, if he could.

The thing was smooth. Not unpleasant. It tasted of what he guessed was silicone rubber, similar to Emily's ass after removing her butt plug. Bradley tried to open his mouth enough to take the whole head in.

He couldn't, quite. He kept his mouth rounded over half of it, like a shy or inexperienced girl would on his own cock. That brought back a few happy memories! He used those for inspiration. Every now and then he'd try a slurp, wondering what Rachel thought.

"Oh, my god," she breathed, her voice low and impressed. "I should have worn a smaller cock for you, but god, sweetheart, you look so good there..." She rocked gently against him, her cock sliding over his lips.

"Mm?" He wasn't sure what he was feeling, licking this almost inanimate object, only seeing that it moved as she did. He supposed it was someone's cock, her cock, after all.

"Man, you're so pretty. But stop. Seriously, stop a moment. Sit back. Tell me, what were you thinking?"

He blushed. "It's not a man's cock, so I'm not a cocksucker? Well, not like a gay one... I mean, I thought it wasn't a cock, only it's yours, it's part of you, it moves... It is your cock, and I'm going down on it..."