My Tryst with Forbidden Youth Ch. 03

"Yeah, you're right. We have lots of time." He relents smiling with a hint of frustration in his voice.

Looking at the source of his frustration I can't help but to smile. His pants are about to burst! I can see the cringe of pain on his face from the pressure building in his straightening member.

"Oh honey!" I say with a twinkling, playful, smile. "Let me take care of that for you."

His cock springs up, thumping the steering wheel once released from his pants. The hint of pain between his eyebrows fade quickly in anticipation.

"Baby you're hard as a rock" I gasp as it twitches with uneven twerks.

His dick looks powerful, delicate and almost too big for his slender frame. The bright light is reflecting off the snow making the inside of the car look bright against the background and the veins look more pronounced. They are keeping it well supplied with blood. The head, light purple and slightly wider than his shaft has a slight shine which makes him look even harder. Knowing that I was having such an effect on the young man makes me feel sexy and beautiful. His straining and uncomfortable hardness is a deeply affecting compliment.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this." The danger heightens my excitement.

Ash relaxes his head back in anticipation for a roadside blow-job, a blow-job that was about to happen in the middle of the day on a busy highway. Taking precautions is smart, but throwing them all to the wind is what makes me rush. I can feel the blood as it circulates in my body.

"Could I ruin my entire plan here on the side of the road? Could I get a ticket? Would it be mailed to the house? Would the cop call me a whore right here in the snow?" The risk is making me hot, parked in a veritable desert of snow with the doubting second thoughts which make the initial plunge that much more delicious and satisfying.

"Uhhhhh" He groans loudly.

"I haven't even gone to work yet." I laugh to myself with self-satisfaction.

I keep my right hand firmly planted on his base, where his cock and his balls meet, in order to hold him in place and to provide me with a measure of control. His balls are his most sensitive and vulnerable part and they are exposed. I push down firmly, not to cause pain, but to let him know that I could. I use that foundation to support my weight as I lean over him and take the head of his cock gently into my mouth. I contrast the firm grip of my hand with the gentle motion of my tongue. I make circles on his head and apply gentle pressure to his frenulum by covering my teeth with my lips and biting with some pressure.

"Ohhhhhhh fuccccckkkk" He exhales in approval as all the air escapes his lungs with a sigh.

"You like how I suck it?" I ask in a teasing voice while popping the head out of my mouth.

"You do it so good...you're the best...nothing...nobody...everrrr...does it so good..."

His enthusiasm provokes me to go deeper. I return my lips to his shaft, kissing and licking it all over.

"You...you...like...it?" Ash manages to say in broken syllables.

"Ohh baby, you have such a nice big cock." I take about a quarter of it in my mouth before taking it out and continuing.

"I love sucking your big cock." I continue to playfully toy with his rather large cock.

"Uggggghhhh" His big hands grip the back of my head and push down hard.

The motion is abrupt, direct and no permission is sought. He is finished playing; he is taking control. My eyes fill with water, I feel like gagging, but I find the resolve to provide him with as much pleasure as I can.

"Don't dare gag." I try to repeat to myself calmly in an effort to avoid it as he pulls my head up and pushes me down even further. I'm having trouble breathing but not choking. With the initial assault on my throat complete I accept that his cock has been forced down there.

I've never deep throated anyone before. I've never been able to get through the intrusion without gagging. I give up all control and leave my mouth there for him to fuck at his leisure. The saliva builds in my mouth and foams around the base of his cock. The sounds are obscene. There are slurping sounds, gurgling noises and his exclamations of satisfaction as I struggle to give him that feeling. The saliva foaming around his cock is getting into my nose and adding to the overall obscenity of the sounds as I suck it back while struggling to take in air.

"Ahhhhh...Michelle...I love you..." He exclaims just before his sperm splashes against the back of my throat in uneven spurts.

My natural reaction to recoil is prevented by his grip holding me firmly in place until he was finishes cumming down my throat. His rough grip intoxicates my senses. He shoots, at least, five full releases of cum into my mouth. I can feel it dripping down my throat as he holds his cock in my mouth to make sure nothing is spit. I feel his grip relax but I don't make an attempt to free myself I want to make an effort to drink the rest of his sperm. I even lick around his penis and squeeze the head to make sure not to miss any before sitting up and wiping the corners of my mouth.

"You've never shallowed my cum before." Ash says with bewilderment in his voice.

"I didn't want to make the car messy." I blush and try to regain some composure.

We both laugh as if I just told a funny joke. I don't particularly like the taste of cum and I know I'm going to be tasting it for a while after, but the car was not really my concern and we both know it. I wanted to do it for him. I wanted to obey his demanding hands. I wanted to accept that taste for his pleasure. That much we both know.

I wipe my mouth a few more times and check the passenger mirror to make sure I got everything. Ash sits in the driver's seat completely passive to the world.

"Honey, pull your pants up! A cop could still come along any minute." I remind the fully satisfied young man.

"Oh shit, I forgot! Cops!" He pulls up his pants in one fluid movement.

"You never thought?" I say in half-amazement as to how the danger of the situation could have escaped his thoughts.

"Yeah, I mean no, I mean never thought."

I laugh in light-hearted disbelief at his naivety and flip at the curls at the ends of my bangs that fell in front of my eyes. The passing cars, which had melted together into one sound of disturbance, have become audible as distinct sounds once again as my pulse returned to normal.

"Well? Are we going to get there today?" I say with an impatient tone.

"Yeah...I mean yes...let me just..." He looks around like a panicked boy; it's adorable.

"Turn ...the... key?" I emphasize "key" in a questioning tone while leaning over to turn the ignition and giving him my best, "there's more coming later look".

The flakes of snow hitting the windshield are lending a cozy feeling to the drive. I revel in the dirtiness of the blowjob. Of all the blowjobs I've ever given it was certainly the dirtiest. I even feel a little self-conscious for having allowed it to happen. The pristine beauty of the falling snow is a stark contrast to the sensuous ugliness of our passion.

The snow seems to retain the sun's last rays but when the change to darkness happens it happens very quickly and with little warning. Now the headlights reflect off the snow creating halos at the front of each passing car. Inside each car there is a story to tell that the inside of every other car is blissfully unaware of. Some are benign, some noble, some romantic and some are fleshy, carnal and bestial. Ours being of the latter is never completely lost on me. For me, the significance of my story has become an insatiable pull toward the darkness. My biological needs have fired up all my unsavory thoughts and desires which always festered just below the surface; always calling me to walk further into the night.

The dark sky is making it feel much later than it really is when we arrive. The mountain appears in the distance, silhouetted, against the darkened winter sky. The snow-capped, vibrantly coloured, cottages illuminated by ground lights look like glass ball miniatures in the distance. The snow falls slowly in large flakes as if each one was designed with the purpose of tranquility. The closer we get to the imposing and mysterious mountain the more my anticipation grows. I can feel it in the bottom of my stomach. It's that familiar feeling that begs me to find my limit. It begs me to give into the void.

Mont Tremblant takes its name from, the trembling, my body attests to it accuracy. The scenery couldn't be more idyllic if torn from a storybook. It conjures feelings of romance which are mixing with my feelings of self-loathing, combining to make me want to go deeper. It's a masochistic urge to completely debase myself. My sex is pulsing at a pounding rate at the prospect.

"What do you mean the room isn't ready? Look at the reservation?!" Andrew is as animated as he is frustrated at the incompetence that greets us at subtly lavish reception area.

"Can't you see the reservation and time?!"

"Honey, I'm sure it's nothing. Just let them sort it out." I do my best to project calmness.

Our room was clearly booked, yet for some reason, it isn't ready yet. My rudimentary understanding of French allows me a small window into what they're saying. Not enough to take a serious issue with anything particular, but certainly enough to know we're being brushed off. I'm not about to yell and scream but I'm not about to just stand her either.

"Madame, j'aimerais parler avec ton gérant. " I ask to speak to her manager in a calm but demanding voice. Ash stands off to my left looking very upset.

"Honey, don't worry I'll handle this."

Ash says nothing and goes deeper into his silent sulk. His eyes are burning with indignation; much more than the situation seems to warrant.

"Madame ou devrais-je dire Mademoiselle, your chambre will be ready en a few heures." The manager says to me looking past Ash with no attempt to hide the disdain in his voice.

He just as well could have threatened to call my husband. I feel paralyzed by rage at his, correct, implication. He walks away with a snooty half turn which lets me know I've been put in my place.

In his place the hostess returns, presumably, to let us know just what "en a few heures" means in complete English.

She speaks in a soft and sympathetic voice with a heavy French accent, "Madame, we are so very sorry for the inconvenient. Can you and your son take some drink for frees?" I can tell that she is sincere and has, unlike the manager, truly mistaken Ash for my son.

I drop my eyes with a glare of distain at the young hostess; I feel no reason to correct her and make a scene; instead accept the rather modest concession and resign to waiting. I'm not about to let this deflate me. Let them think whatever they want.

"Sweetie, the village is so beautiful, let's just go and enjoy it. Ok?"

The village is spectacularly romantic. It's crowded with people and life. Before making a foray to join in it, I take my lover by the hand and initiate our first kiss in this most romantic of occasions. The kiss leaves no doubt to anyone who chose to take notice that we are not mother and son. The public display of affection feels exhilarating. He grips me with his strong hands and kisses in the midst of a crowd. In all of our sneaking around, being seen together was always avoided. If we met at a hotel we made sure to arrive in different elevators and on dates and we always tried to avoided intimate contact unless we were spotted. There is no such caution now and it feels electric.

I looking up and attempting to steal one more kiss from this embrace I notice the anger hasn't faded from his eyes, "Honey, don't worry about the hotel, all that matters is that we are here."

I can tell Ash is angry but it seems like it's more than just an unaccommodating hotel staff. That's part of it for sure but not all of it, I can tell that he's angry that I took over and did all the talking and made him look like my son to the hostess. I remind myself to let him take the lead the next time anything comes up. I had forgotten how fragile the male ego can be and especially so at his age. He felt belittled and unable to stand up for himself and, worse, he felt unable to stand up for me.

"I could have gotten us more than a couple drinks, you know?"

"Oh I know. I just wanted to get it over with." I try to convey the sense that I agree with him however tenuous the veracity of the sentiment.

Exasperated he continues, "It's just that I booked this room a month ago, how can it not be ready? Have you ever heard of that at a hotel?"

"Let's just look around...you can buy me something nice." I say doing my best to sparkle my eyes in the hopes of getting his mind off it.

Men like to buy you things when they are in love. That's why it's not so much getting the gift that is a turn-on, but the knowledge that it was bought without any begrudging feelings. When shopping together, his body language will say everything, it will tell you whether he wants you to be the luckiest girl in the room or if he doesn't think you deserve it. We are all hoping for the former, we all want to be worth it in his eyes. The body language never lies and a well-placed gift is the ultimate aphrodisiac in a romantic setting. These are the moments I need him to shine.

"These are perfect for you."

His thoughtful confidence and swagger in his voice lets me know that he's made the perfect choice before I even look. They take my breath away and inspire the feeling of confidence that I had chosen the right mate. He picked out the most lovely crystal mounted dangling silver earrings which perfectly fit my style. They project elegance and mystery through the sparking crystal darkened by the silver. They're not the most expensive in the boutique, but that is not the point of such a gift, it's the thought and the sense for matching my desire in the moment. In both of these imperatives Ash has struck gold with silver and crystal. I will wear them proudly for the rest of the week and even upon returning home knowing that nobody will be astute enough to notice the mark.

I brought a gift for him as well, which I will give, after our first love making session. I find that men like getting gifts afterwards; it validates their performance and shows gratitude for it. The best way to please a sexual partner is to appeal to his ego. I have yet to meet a man whom doesn't love to have it fed; knowing just the right way to do that makes all the difference between the sheets. It's sexy to give a lover a gift while naked too.

Hand in hand we walk around the village. We partake in little winks, warm embraces and delightful kisses making the earlier un-pleasantries seem petty and meaningless. We have dinner and share conversation over drinks. It turns out that a few hours could end up stretching the definition of what, "a few", actually means. They're supposed to text us, but I don't expect too much from this hotel staff. If we have to sleep in the broom closet I'm not about to even let that ruin my time with Ash. Looking into his beautiful blue eyes I feel like nothing could spoil this time.

"I need new clothes." I say calling attention to my business casual airplane attire. "Can I get new clothes?" I make sure to ask for approval under his authority, knowing all too well that it will build up his sexual energy. Ash nods in paternalistic approval. With that we are shopping once again.

"Honey! I absolutely love it! Can I?"

"Why don't you try it on then."

Ash has assumed the posture and the tone of one in control. In this case my manipulation is serving both of our ends. Still my appetite for it even scares myself a little bit.

The sweater is to die for; a vintage style ski jumper, deep blue with alternating white patterns of pine trees and snowflakes. It looks so cute worn over a pair of black tights which soon replace my grey skirt. I am starting to look the part of sexy ski princess. I am also getting a high from the shopping spree. It was all stylish, but none of it is cheap. It doesn't really matter the cost. Most of all I want to look good for him. I want to look like a ski chalet sexual fantasy dream when he undresses me.

"Ça a l'air magnifique sur moi!" I exclaim looking into the boutique mirror and fitting a faux black fur headband on my ensemble as a finishing touch. My hair flows from beneath it making my, slightly, curled long brown hair look amazingly cute.

"Oui madame, ma chère l'air très belle. " Grasping my stomach from behind with a caring, prophetic caress Ash does his best romantic French accent. It's charming in its imprecision.

His hand lingers on my belly with purpose. I look in the mirror to see his eyes looking directly where his hands rest. I had never talked about my biological clock or the urges it had been sending through me for months with him. Regardless, he seems to be of the same mind, understands it and accepts the role. His presence fills me with a sense of safety and security. I'm sure that he is up to the task.

"Let's see if the room is ready."

"Yeah, let's see if the room is ready." I say as if coming out of a trance.

It's hard to explain the feeling of anticipation in such a moment. Getting to key, getting in the elevator and opening the door all seem to take forever in the moment but are forgotten in a blur once the door closes. Like all of our encounters I never know what to expect. That feeling lends itself to the anticipation that grows and grows into an inferno at the moment of realization. He never fails to deliver.

As soon as the door closes I hear the loud and ominous sound of the bolt being locked. He has one thing on his mind. My heart begins to beat like an animal trapped. His rough hands assail me with no regard for delicacy. His strong hand grasps the base of my neck and pushes me to the foot of the bed. His manly strength is asserting and flexing as if to remind me of my female vulnerability. My body jerks sharply before being thrown harshly onto the mattress. I'm pounding with excitement as brace myself to be ravished. I contort and murmur as Ashton quickly relieves himself of his clothing. Completely naked he continues his assault on me.

Romance could wait. There are no roses, no candy and no sympathy on his mind. He holds me down with all of his weight and struggles to catch my resisting hands. His rock hard cock ensures that there could be no mistaking his intention. I kick from side to side in an attempt to fight off my conqueror. My nails pierce his skin to the sounds of his laughter. He strips me from the waist down. Proving I have no means to harm him his eyes become narrow and focused. His stare is intense and methodical. I stop kicking taken in with the feeling of true intimidation. Fear overcomes me and sucks me deeper into the moment. I look at him with pleading eyes and an open mouth.

"Don't squirm you fucking bitch." He hisses angrily into my ear as his weight pins me to the mattress.

With no further posturing I feel his hard cock pushing into me. Half dressed, barely in the room for a minute and his hard cock is pushing into me; being forced into me. I love it. I love his unbridled desire and its furious release. I love his uncompromising need to fuck me on his terms. I love the filthy words I inspire his mouth to spit at me. For me dirty talking has a place in love making and shouldn't be forced; it should be inspired and guttural.

"Take my cock you fucking slut!"

My new earrings dangle and bounce as he screws me roughly while grunting obscenities. Since being introduced to pain my lover had taken a taste for its flavor. His body is full of the evidence, in the form of scratches and teeth marks, in various stages of recovery. A bit of pain can open up the nerves and make them more receptive to pleasure. For us, the pain has to be from sources of nature; teeth and nails are my weapons of choice, he relies on his grip and ability to control leaving no marks.