May's 18th Birthday

"Okay."

She feels her desire to be fucked struggling with her fear of being fucked. But above all, she just wants him to please himself, to use her for his pleasure. She never realized she'd want that, but now, naked with him, that's all she wants.

"So let's get out of this bath before we prune up. You show up wearing that dress and those boots and then you make me wait all this time," he teases.

Her jaw drops.

"I made you wait!?"

"Have the last truffle," he says, pushing it in her mouth.

"Are you trying to shut me up?"

"I wouldn't dare!" he says, covering her mouth playfully.

This time she gives him a much harder bite!

After he helps her out of the tub, they rinse each other off in the shower. It's a huge shower with multiple shower heads and a long bench.

"What did you have in mind when you designed this shower?" she asks, standing behind him to rub away the soap from his back.

"Blow jobs."

"I figured," she slaps his butt playfully. "You're so bad."

It's such a cute butt. Full and round and firm. Even after all the soap is gone, she goes on brushing it.

"Many things are possible here," he muses, turning around. "Let's make sure we get your breasts completely rinsed off."

As he showers her off, rubbing his hands all over her body, he really does do a very thorough job of rinsing her breasts in particular. When she notices that his dick is starting to grow again, she reaches out to hold it.

Now that she's touched it, she can't stop!

She feels it respond to her touch, stiffening and growing immediately. Again her power over his body excites her.

"There you go," he encourages. "You know exactly what to do."

"No, I don't," she insists. "You're just easy to please."

"Easy for you to please," he smiles down at her.

"It's so big and hard," she marvels. "Like a hammer. I can't believe it's going to go inside of me!"

She looks up at him mischievously, eager to see the effect her words have on him.

"Let's towel off now and get you to bed."

"Can I... can I...."

"You can do anything you want. Don't be shy."

"In that case...."

She kneels down. For a minute, she just strokes his dick very tenderly with her fingertips, the way he'd been touching her before, watching how it shivers in response to her touch. But then she leans in and kisses it, right at the tip.

"Wait a minute, now," he says. "Let's save this for later. Right now it's your turn."

"Are you sure?" she asks, softly petting his ball sack (since he seemed to like it so much before), imagining the semen building up in there again.

"Yes. I want you to do this, but I also really want to fuck you."

"Well let me just do it a little then," she says, and before he can object she's put it in her mouth.

"Oh, fuck, May," he moans.

She smiles up at him. "You liked that, huh?"

She has confirmed her earlier impression. This is power.

He could take her, and she knows he will, but she thinks that what he really needs is something he cannot take, something he needs her to give.

"Oh, yes. So much."

"Tell me a secret then. Teach me one thing about blow jobs and I will let you fuck me."

"One thing...."

She realizes she could've demanded more.

"No, two things."

"Okay," he laughs. "The first trick is to kiss me right here." He shows her the sweet spot of his dick, below the head.

"Right here?" she kisses it tentatively.

"Oh, fuck yes!" he moans, shivering.

She giggles. "You do like that!" And she kisses it again, more confidently.

"Oh, god, May."

"One more secret," she says, "and I'll kiss you like that again."

"While you're cupping my balls with your hands, lick it like a popsicle."

"Like this?"

"Oh god yes."

She licks it again.

"My god, May."

"Raoul, let me make you cum again."

She kisses it as he'd shown her.

"But..."

"No. If you let me make you cum now, I won't feel bad if I ask you to stop later."

He looks down at her. Her big brown eyes look up at him, pleadingly. So earnest.

"Okay, that's a deal," he whispers, touching her ear.

"Good. But you have to teach me one more thing. One more secret to giving you a great blow job."

"One more? Okay. While you're kind of jacking me off with your hands, look up at me and kiss my balls. First one and then the other. You can kiss them and lick them a little. But then go back to licking and kissing the shaft and sucking it."

She kisses the shaft, tip to scrotum and back, kissing and licking it, looking at it with curiosity and love, and looking up at him to see his pleasure.

"Keep the water away from my hair, okay? I don't want your pretty wrap getting wet."

"Of course."

"And cum in my mouth, okay?"

"Okay," he readily agrees.

"I want to taste it and I want to swallow it. You'd like that, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. I want to swallow all of it."

She licks him as he just taught her, kisses the sweet spot, and then she closes her mouth around it.

She pumps her head for a while, then licks and kisses it again, massaging his balls.

"Oh, Raoul," she coos, "I really love your...." She steels herself to say it. "... your cock. It's so big!"

She kisses it lovingly, looking up at him. "This is really a man's cock."

She sucks it for another moment and looks back up at him. "Cum for me, Raoul. I love you and I love your cock and I want your cum." She sucks it again. "Give me your cum," she pleads, kissing his sweet spot again. "Give me your cum, Raoul," she begs, putting the head of his cock in her mouth again.

"Oh, god, May," he moans, and, realizing he's close, she wraps her mouth around him and puts him in as deep as she can. She massages his balls again to help his cum get out, and then — there it is!

The thickness of his cum surprises her. It's a little bitter, and very salty, but her internet research had prepared her for much worse. After a moment she realizes (with great relief) that she even kind of likes it! Not that it tastes good, but after all, it's his cum!

When she feels him going soft in her mouth, she releases his dick and finally swallows his cum.

"Thank you," she says, standing up.

"Thank you," he laughs, embracing her tightly.

As she feels his gratitude, his powerful arms engulfing her, she discovers that, at least for her, this is the point of being beautiful. Her ability to do this to him, his need for her, means that all his physical strength, all his social status and wealth, everything that he can do — it's all at her service whenever she needs it. His desire is her safety, her assurance of his love.

"You know I'll need a few minutes again, right?" he asks her.

"I know. Take your time."

"I might fall asleep now. You've worn me out."

"That's okay. We can do it in the morning."

"No. I'll stay awake. How about a massage?"

"A massage? Of course!"

He towels her off, and lets her towel him off, and then he leads her to the bedroom.

She follows him, watching his firm buttcheeks, feeling the happiness of a woman who has satisfied her man. Maybe she wasn't the best, but his reaction assures her that she was very, very good!

So now, she walks behind him, completely naked. It's thrilling, after all, to be naked with a man. Naked with him.

He pauses at the threshold of the bedroom — she's still in the bathroom, a step behind him, holding his left hand — and taps the screen on the wall. A moment later, the thick, dark purple curtains begin to close over the thin, sheer white ones. As the room grows darker, a fire ignites in the fireplace, casting a warm, soft light across the room.

"How's that?" he asks, turning to her.

"I like it."

He has a very unique bedroom, she thinks, as he leads her to the bed. The curtains and wallpaper are dark purple, both with the vine and rose motif that appears throughout the master suite. Even the bed itself has curtains, and a kind of canopy above it, and a thickly padded headboard, all the same rich dark purple. It's not particularly masculine, but the silk comforter and pillow shams on the bed, and the thick plush carpet around it, are solid jet black, giving the room an aura of mystery.

She decides that this, the most private room of his home, is the one that represents him best. It's sexy, dark, mysterious, luxurious, with a hint of danger: not real danger, but excitement, an exhilarating danger. In fact, it's all warm and safe and comfortable, with windows looking out across the world, incredible views of the lights of Los Angeles all the way from Beverly Hills to the ocean, exactly the way that he sees so much of the world, knows so many of its secrets, but protected, secret, so that no one can see in.

Only she is there; only she shares his secret. Though she can't verbalize it all in that instant — she's rather preoccupied with her immediate situation — she does feel it. She senses the privacy and vulnerability of it. This was the room they were in when he'd confessed his insecurity that she might not like his home. It's the symbol of his fears, his darkness, and his need to be loved that only she can meet. And the wide fireplace, casting its light into the dark room, the obvious symbol of his desire.

He pulls back the comforter for her, and she lays down on the dark crimson sheets, relieved to be a little less naked. Feeling the soft coolness of the sheets, deeply inhaling their gentle lavender and jasmine scents, relaxes her tremendously.

"I'm not actually good at massage," he explains, sitting on the bed next to her. He gets a bottle of coconut oil out of the drawer of the night stand and rubs his hands together to warm it up.

"What else do you keep in that drawer?" she asks, watching him.

"I have lots of secrets," he teases. "Want to see some?"

"Of course!"

He opens the drawer again and pulls out a pair of plush-covered handcuffs.

"Oooh," she teases. "Very naughy!"

"Yes. We have lots of toys to play with."

He begins rubbing her back. The feeling relaxes her so much; she would easily fall asleep if she didn't know what was to happen next.

His hands move from her back to her shoulders, then to her waist. He rubs her neck, her arms, then her hips and thighs.

Soaking it all in, loving the tender, affectionate attention of his touch, she watches the flames in the fireplace. She wonders what toys he has, what kinds of kinky things he might be into. She would let him do anything he wants, but now that she realizes that maybe he wants some wild things, it worries her a little.

"Raoul?" she asks, as his hands massage her calves.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any sexual fantasies?"

"Of course. Wanna trade?"

"What?"

"I'll tell you mine if you'll tell me yours."

"Okay."

He's begun to rub her heels. She wonders what he can see from there, but she's begun not to care. Let him look. Let him see anything he wants.

"Well, it might seem too tame to you, but my number one fantasy is to have sex with a woman when we're really in love. Someone who I really love, and someone who I feel really loves me. Just really loving sex. Imagine this: I've wanted this for longer than you've been alive, and tonight it's finally happening."

"That's cheating," she says as he rubs her other heel. She's happy to hear that, of course, but it's not the information she wants right now. "That's sweet, but it's not a real fantasy."

"I think it is. And it's true."

"But it doesn't count. You have to tell me another one."

"Well, how about role playing?"

"Really? Like what? What kind of roles?"

"Just normal ones. A police officer with a woman trying to get out of a ticket. A teacher and a student who has to be punished."

"That sounds fun."

"It definitely can be. It's a good way to find out what someone likes too. There might be something you want me to do but don't even feel comfortable thinking about normally, but when you're playing the landlady and I'm playing the guy desperate not to be evicted, you might take a bit of a risk under the guise of 'just playing.'"

"Like what? Is there something like that for you?"

"Something I normally wouldn't want to admit?"

"Yeah."

"I'm actually pretty vanilla. Probably the naughtiest thing that I enjoy is pulling your hair a little, especially during doggy-style. Not hard, but enough to make you arch your back more. Or a little spanking. Beyond that, I'll go along with what you want, but I won't push you in that direction."

"You know what I was thinking about when you were carrying me up the stairs?"

"No."

"I was imagining that you were some kind of ancient warrior, like a viking, carrying me away. Like you'd burned down my village or something, and now I was your prize."

"That is definitely a sexy idea. We can definitely play that any time you want. You'd be a more-than-worthy prize for even the most brutal barbarian."

"Raoul the Well-Hung, Scourge of Empires," she teases, very pleased with her own cleverness at that moment.

The massage is going well. He's paying lots of attention to her hips and thighs, and remembering what he told her about them she feels calmly sexy.

"You might have to tie me up to keep me from running back to civilization."

"I'll do what I have to do."

She can feel the excitement of the game already. She imagines herself struggling helplessly against him....

But that will have to wait for another time.

"So it's your turn again."

"Mine? I've told you two already."

"No, you told me one and I've told you one, so it's your turn."

"I'm in no position to argue," Raoul concedes. "Well, let me think."

"I want to know your absolute favorite. No matter what it is. Even if it's horrible. And even if you've done it before."

"My favorite, not counting the one I started with, is having sex with more than one woman at a time."

"How many?"

"Up to three or four."

"I wouldn't mind that. Actually I would like it with one other woman."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's definitely something I've imagined. But I don't want any other man. Only you."

"I don't want any other man involved either."

"Actually, I'd really like to watch you with a woman who's really good at sex. Just so I could get ideas."

"Or I can just tell you what I like."

"You can tell me, but maybe I'd like to watch anyway. Maybe there are things you can't tell me. Things you don't even know."

"Yeah, maybe."

He's done her feet and toes, and now he's on the way back up. For some reason she assumes that time for this conversation is running out, so she needs to hurry it along.

"Good. So it's your turn again," she tells him.

"So how this works is that I tell you one of my fantasies, and then you say you have the same one and it's my turn again?"

"Yup. So far."

"Nope. You have to tell me one of yours now."

She hadn't thought of this. She searches her brain quickly. She's already told him about being carried away, which is practically the only fantasy she's ever had. But then she remembers...

"Have you ever played with your food?"

"All the time. What kind of food do you have in mind?"

"Like, whipped cream?"

"We'll have gallons of it by tomorrow night."

"Gallons? That's more than I'd imagined."

"Well, I have the same fantasy."

"Really?"

"Yup. I'll lick some chocolate syrup off your nipples sometime. Suck some wine out of your belly button. Fun for everyone."

"So it's your turn again."

"Is it?"

She can hear that he's teasing.

"I'm not letting you have sex with me until you tell me some juicy ones," she warns. She knows that he knows that she's bluffing, but it's fun to threaten him anyway. (And a secret little part of her hopes that he'll insist....)

"Oh no. I'll do my best, then."

"Better be good." (That secret little part adds a little bitterness to her tone.)

"Okay. How about this? I'd like us to watch each other masturbate."

Ouch. That's a bit too much for her. She can't imagine him looking at her while she.... (The secret little part has decided to shut up and mind its own business... at least for now....)

"Wow. That would be.... Do you really want that?"

"It's not a big deal."

"No, I could do it. I just need... time to get used to the idea."

"Something else we could do is masturbate together under the covers. Not watching each other, but just talking to each other while we do it."

"Oh, I like that," she says, greatly relieved. "Maybe we could start that way and then, maybe, look at each other a little?"

"Sure. Whatever we feel comfortable doing. But was that juicy enough?"

"Definitely. You might get a little tail tonight."

"I hope so. I think that means it's your turn again."

"I don't really have any. I kind of imagine something with leather and high heel boots...."

"You want to dominate?"

"No, not like with a whip or anything."

"What about a long feather? What if you tied me up and tickled me with a feather?"

"Would you like that?" she asks him.

"This is your fantasy," he reminds her.

"Well, I think I might like that feather. Actually I definitely would. But not anything too rough. Just a little fun."

"We can do exactly as much as you want."

"So it's your turn again. Tell me something you've never done."

"Well, there is one thing that I've thought of but never done."

"Oh good! We'll do it!"

"You shouldn't promise anything yet."

"I don't care. What is it?"

"To have sex with a woman body-painted as a cat. Like a cheetah or panther. Or maybe with two women body-painted as cats."

"How did you think of that?" she laughs.

"PETA," he chuckles.

"Oh, of course," she rolls her eyes. "Actually, I really like that idea. Can we do that?"

She imagines herself sexy and ferocious.

"We can look into it."

"That would be so fun, but the body painter has to be a woman."

"Of course."

"Oh, that is hot, actually. You're very naughty, Raoul."

As much as anything, she's relieved. The plush handcuffs scared her, but these are all safely tame enough for her. Later she'll look in that drawer later to see if he's hiding anything scary in it, but for now she can relax.

As if he'd read her mind, he comments, "You know May, believe it or not, I'm beginning to think we're sexually compatible."

"Really?"

"I'm sure we are. You want to roll over? I'll massage your front too."

She hesitates, feeling nervous again. To be naked, to be exposed, her entire body for him to see. Sensing her anxiety, he says, "You could cover yourself with a towel."

"How about a pillow?"

"Anything you want."

"Thank you, Raoul. I'm just so...."

"It's okay, May. Do whatever you want. You don't even have to roll over if you don't want to."

Realizing that he means he could immediately start fucking her from behind, she says, "No, let's continue this massage."

So she rolls over and holds a pillow over her breasts. He begins again at her feet.

"Tell me one more," he says. "It's your turn."

"I just realized I do have one. I read about it in a magazine several years ago and never forgot."

"Okay."

"I want us to take turns telling each other what to do. Like when it's my turn, you can't do anything except exactly what I tell you, and when it's your turn, I have to do exactly what you tell me."

"Oh, that sounds nice," he says.

"It's actually like the role-playing, isn't it?" She sounds disappointed by the realization.

"But we can do it just being ourselves, without playing any roles."

"Yeah. I'd like that."