Ravishing Delphine

The odd thing about Delphine was how it happened. And the name. Yeah, the name is weird, too--- Delphine. Some kind of old aristocratic name if I had to guess.

But that's not what I want to talk about. The weird thing about how it happened was how natural it was. Delphine wasn't anyone I would typically spend any time with. The only reason we met is because I rented a room in her apartment for a night on business. It was one of those online thing--- AirVnV or something.

The odd thing was how we hit it off. Even though in a lot of ways we were very different, we just clicked. I would say it didn't really come together until the third night, the last night I was there. I had gone out a bit with some work friends for a few drinks. She stayed home having a few glasses of wine. When we come together, a bit bored, a bit lonely, and a bit giddy from alcohol, all the ingredients were in place.

She was sitting on her couch. We had already gotten past the pleasant part, where you're nice and smile and comment about the weather or how much you like the town. She was sitting down, watching television, in a loose sweatshirt and sweat pants cut off below the knee. She sat cross legged, with a glass held on one knee.

I don't know why, but when she looked at me and smiled, a sort of slow sleepy smile, I couldn't resist. "What are you watching?"

"I don't know," shrugging. Her sweatshirt was loose around the neck, and her shoulder bare and exposed. Something about it, about the shoulder without so much as a tan line or a bra strap, started to wake me up. "Some old movie."

We watched for a while, talking about the movie, work, making ends meet. The usual stuff, but a bit more relaxed now. She offered me some of her wine, took some more herself.

Now this was an old movie, one I would say was from the 1950's, but may have been early 1960's. We were talking about it, the look, the style and so on. At one point, the heroine, in a prim dress and Jackie Kennedy cropped hair, was trying to leave. But the hero, clean shaven with a square jaw, wasn't letting her. At one point, he grabbed her by the arms and kissed her full on the mouth.

"Well," I said, "Times have changed."

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Well, what where's the consent? I mean, that guy is just going after her, whether she wants it or not."

She nodded, as if to agree. In an alternate dimension, I could us watching the movie, the alcohol giddiness giving way to tiredness, and we'd go off to bed. But that's not what happened. She was about to agree, when suddenly she said, "I think it's kind of hot."

"Really?" I said, my face a little flush with embarrassment. I mean, this is one of those things you definitely don't say, in this day and age.

"Well, in this case, she is interested in him. It's her role as a woman--- a woman in the 1950's-- that's holding her back. Publicly, women weren't supposed to be sexual, you know?" She relaxed into the corner of the couch. Her chest was soft, relaxed, obviously braless.

"Yeah?" I said.

"With the right guy, the right limits," she looked at me when she said this, "I think I could really get into it."

At that point, my mind was saying "No, no, that's not right," but between my legs I was hard as an iron rod. I shifted a little bit, trying to hide it. "Really?" I said. "What are your limits?"

"I mean," she said, "You would have to be into it. And the guy would have to respect your boundaries--- not too hard, but not too soft." At this point she was looking down at her feet, her French pedicure shining in the light. "But strong. Forceful. I could see myself getting into that."

At this point, the cut of my slacks wasn't doing it. I could feel myself pressing hard against my underwear, that soft pleasant ache of arousal.

"Like spanking?" I said.

"Sure," she said. "Slapping."

"Hair pulling," I said.

"Holding me down," she said.

I looked at her. She held my eyes, unafraid. "So how would you set your limits?"

"It would be like traffic," she said. "Red means stop. Green means go. Yellow means slow it down. Anything else is..."

"Good to go," I finished.

"Hmmm," I said. I could already see it unfolding, even before it happened. I could see that naked spot between her breasts. Definitely no bra. Probably no panties. My head and chest felt hot. "I think you're right."

She shrugged again, standing up. She put the glass down on the table, and in an instant, I could see her nipple between the folds of her sweatshirt, hard as gemstones.

All of it, all of it was too much. I was filled with it, with a sudden intensity. I had to have her. I had to have her now. Nothing else mattered. Today didn't matter. Yesterday didn't matter. Tomorrow didn't matter. It was just right here, right now, her and I.

I got up and grabbed her, light on the elbow. I was going to pull her in, and kiss her like that guy in the movies. But she pulled her arm free. "What are you doing?"

I grabbed her again, a bit firmer. She pulled back.

I arched an eyebrow, pausing.

"Green," she said.

I grabbed her, throwing her back down on the couch. Her eyes widened, her hair rising up like a splash.

"I'm going to fuck you," I said. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."

She tried to get up, but I pushed her down again. She pushed at me, and I slapped her across the face. Her cheek glowed warm. She put her hand up, as it to touch her face, but I grabbed it, pinning it against the couch. I grabbed her other hand, holding both above her head in one hand, pinning her. With my free hand, I grabbed her face, and put my lips against hers. Her breath was hot, and her tongue and my tongue carried the struggle, pushing, pulling, probing. I could feel her nipples harden though her shirt.

"Jesus," she whispered, she moaned slightly. "Jesus, what are you going to do to me?"

"Whatever the fuck I want," I said. I reached up her shirt, my hand sliding across her smooth silky bosoms. I found her rosebud nipples and gave one a pinch.

"Oh," she said, her back arching. "Oh. Stop it."

I grabbed her throat. "Now you listen to me," I said, my teeth clenched, breath shallow. "You're going to do whatever the fuck I say, you hear me?"

She nodded. I pushed her back, standing up, She was sitting on the couch now, her hair tousled, her clothes rumpled. I unzipped my pants, loosening my cock. It fell straight and true like a ruler. I grabbed the back of her head, a fistful of hair.

She looked at my cock, bobbing and wet with pre-cum. She made a moaning sound, her lips an "O." At that moment, I popped my cock right into her mouth. It was warm, her tongue sliding against the sensitive part. I swear I could have exploded right then, but I didn't. I started to move slightly, thrusting in and out.

"Oh," she said, "oh."

I pulled my cock out, watching her spit dribble onto her sweat shirt. "You can go greener than that," she said, a smile crossing her lips.

I thrust my cock back in, and pushed it until she gagged. "You like that," I said. "You take cock, you suck that fucking cock." I worked her mouth against it, feeling her tongue and hot breath ensconcing my member to the shaft.

Then I pulled it, out, warm and wet, and pushed her head into my balls. "Lick them," I said, shoving her head down. Her tongue flicked across the skin.

I grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her down and off the couch. I grabbed her and turned her around, forcing her down so her ass was to me and her head away. I pushed up her sweatshirt, grabbing and pinching her nipples.

"Uhh," she said.

I grabbed her sweat pants, and in a clean jerk had them down to her knees. She had no underwear on, she ass bare in front of her. I slapped it, hard. Once. Twice. Three times. The red began to appear on her cheek.

Then I tapped my cock on her ass, beat it like a drum. Then I put it in, thrust in deep inside her pussy. I reached around and grabbed her clit, feeling the wet against my fingers. With one hand, I grabbed her hair, and the other I was smacking her ass. In. Out. In. Out. It felt so good, it felt so good, her pussy closing in and sucking my cock like her mouth.

"Ahh," she said. "Ahhh."

"Take it," I said. "You take it. You like that? Yeah, you like that."

She moaned, arching her back.

I pushed her off, turned her around. Slapped her face. Smacked her nipples. Her eyes rolled, her mouth open. "Oh god," she said.

I spread her knees with my legs, opening her wide, dripping pussy, the cushions wet now. I grabbed her throat, and her eyes were wide, so wide that my cock throbbed and expanded. I stood there, putting my cock in the other way. It slipped in and out, in and out. I put my lips against her, body to body, tongue to tongue, writhing and circling.

I pinned her hands over her head, bit her nipples, riding that pussy. Then suddenly, her eyes widened, and she arched her back and quivered. "Ahh," she said. "Ahh."

I pulled my cock out, and it was wet, wet with her spit and her pussy, and was quivering I stuck it in her mouth. She looked at me, her hair matted, her clothes pushed off and torn. I looked in her eyes and the sweet, agonizing relief washed over me.

"Swallow it," I said. "Swallow it all."

She gulped it down as I came, her throat swallowing in rhythm to the pulse of the cock. And she shuddered, her body spasming.

I pulled my cock out, wet, spent. Tired.

She wiped her mouth, looked at me, and said, "See?"

Yeah, I did. I did.