Single Red Rose

Copyright © January 2021 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Author's Notes

Foreword #1: All sexually active characters in this story are over 18.

Foreword #2: This is an entry for the Literotica Valentine's Day Contest 2021. I do hope you enjoy the story and would appreciate your comments or, better still, your votes.

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I writhed at the cuffs, trying as best I could to get away from my bindings. How had I got here? I couldn't remember. All was dark, but here I was spreadeagled on the bed, cuffs around wrists and ankles. The fires sizzled away inside, and I so wanted to scream out at my tormentor. I so wanted to, but I so couldn't. All I could muster was a gentle moan, the satisfied purr a cat might make as you stroked her gently. The audible performance so belied the feelings deep inside.

Who was he? Once more, just like how I got here, I couldn't remember. All I knew is that he was tormenting my aching sex, and I could do nothing about it. I fought once more to break my binds, contorting my body against his invading... once again I did not know. Was it him, or her? I wasn't being fucked; of that I was sure. I would feel a cock deep inside, sliding tightly against my pussy walls. Something though, or someone, was fuelling the fires of desire, and I could do nothing to prevent them.

I could feel the dampness down below, juices trickling down my snatch as the torment continued. A tongue? Fingers? A toy? It was dark and I could not see, but for sure I could feel. I moaned again, in my mind screaming out as the first ripple of climax wracked my small frame. Still, they continued, the unseen tormentor working at my pussy, switching between clit, and opening, teasing, tormenting, fuelling the fires.

Fires, yes fires. I could see them now, those flickers of light, those flickers of flame coming into view in front of my eyes. I could feel them down below, flames of desire raging deep inside. I could feel the moisture. I could feel the tender caress. I could...

"Wh... what..." I muttered, my eyes flicking open as I left my dreamland fantasy.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Beckie," he replied, his words whispered into my ear as if carried on a gentle breeze.

There were no cuffs. There was no unseen tormentor ravaging me into a carnal fervour. Both were figments of a wanton imagination, an imagination which hinted towards yet unrealised fantasies. Those fires, burning bright in front of my eyes were just the first rays of morning sunlight seeping in through the curtains. The unseen tormentor was little more than my darling partner, leaning up at the side of me, his face against my cheek, his hand down between my legs caressing me through my panties. And my ravaged sex? Even ravaged was an exaggeration. There was nothing forceful, nothing vigorous, not even spirited, about his actions, yet here I was waking up with the smoulder of desire deep inside as his fingers massaged away.

He knew just how to set me on fire, to have me panting, to have me desperate for relief. His thumb, positioned somewhere over apex and clit, drew small firm circles, whilst fingers curled back and forth along the length of my snatch. I could feel the arousal down below, dampness seeping out between my puffy labia. I could feel the fire deep inside, and the more he worked me, the less I could resist. I gasped as another ripple hit, tiny shockwaves of pleasure spreading out through my body.

It was all too much. I needed him, and I needed him now. I pulled the duvet off both of us and reached down, my fingers crawling across his bare stomach, all the way to his boxer shorts. There was no surprise as I felt the bulge inside. Inside I smiled to myself as I started to tug at his boxers, pulling the front down enough to release him from his confines.

"Take them off," I whispered, giving him a kiss on the lips.

There was no hesitation as, in unison, Dave removed his boxers, and I did likewise with my already damp panties. I couldn't help but run a hand across my puffy lips, feeling the wetness for myself. I dipped a finger up inside, pulling it out coated in my slick juices. Slowly, purposefully, I moved my finger up to his mouth.

"Lie back," I whispered, offering him a taste of my sweet sex.

I expected a refusal. Dave was the dominant one and loved to be on top, to force the pace, to pummel my pussy into submission as I writhed under his rampant cock. What's more, I loved it. I loved to be taken to heaven and back, and boy did he take me there. He wasn't the biggest, he wasn't even the longest, but what he did though was hit that spot, every time.

Valentine's Day was one of the few days of the year when he relinquished his control, letting me choose what I wanted, albeit usually with just a little bit of suggestive encouragement. I... well, I was by default the submissive one. If he asked, he got it, and if he didn't ask, I usually enjoyed it anyway.

Don't get me wrong, I had my desires, but I kept them to myself. Deep down, as my dreams suggested, I longed to have him take me slowly, to have him edge me to the point of no return, to feel him force me to cum again and again, unable to prevent the onslaught. I wasn't sure where the cuffs came from. Were they symbolic of my inability to prevent the inevitable, or did I have a hidden fetish to be restrained?

I'd seen the dream before, several times, as if guiding me towards a greater fulfilment, as if prompting me to ask. I just couldn't do it. How could I say to him that I wanted to be bound, cuffed to the bed, and have him take me slowly, all the way until I scream out for release? I loved Dave, but what would he think of me? In my mind I had decided. If he kept me happy, if he quenched my fires, then I wouldn't worry too much about my own desires... and boy did he satisfy me.

This morning, well I was going to show him just how much I loved him. I kissed him once more, then gave a firm but gentle push on his shoulder. I gave a second push, and as he started to roll onto his back, I ran my leg across his. I shuffled back across the bed, giving him room to move away from the edge, then straddled him, kneeling over his muscular thighs, his hard cock lying inches in front of my pussy.

"Do you love me?" I whispered down at him, one hand stroking his manhood just to make sure he was rock hard. I already knew he was, but there was something so satisfying about feeling his rampant shaft.

"Always," came his reply.

"How much?" I whispered, shuffling forward until my wet sex was sitting atop his manhood.

I didn't wait for an answer, at least not one in words. Dave moaned softly as I wriggled atop his cock, my wetness coating his manhood as I ground against him. I wanted to moan myself, his hard shaft wedging between my lips and stimulating those fires once more as I ground against him, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. I was in control. No matter how much I needed him up inside—I had to admit that I was desperate to ride him—I was in control and I was going to tease him a little bit first.

I continued to work my sex over his hard shaft, grinding from side to side before sliding along his length. Dave gasped as my efforts drew his foreskin back, leaving his sensitive head exposed against my slick folds. From his soft moans I knew he was enjoying the attention, just as I had enjoyed his wake-up call. In my mind he was enjoying himself too much and, if I wasn't careful, I ran the risk of taking him too far. There was a time and place for him to go too far, and it wasn't here nor now.

I knelt back up, keeping my wet sex over his rock-hard shaft, but ceasing with any movement, at least not any movement down below. As he watched and waited, I hooked my fingers under the hem of my nightshirt. Then, in the slowest, most seductive way possible, I pulled the flimsy cotton garment upwards.

I teased him with a partial flash of breast, just the underside, keeping my hard nipples hidden. My breasts were a bit on the small side if you asked me, somewhere on the cusp between A and B cup, but they did sit so pert on my petite chest. I would have loved them to be larger, but what they lacked in size they sure made up for in sensitivity. Dave wasn't much of a tits man. They were something to grab hold of as he pounded away at my pussy, but I just loved a bit of attention to my nipples. I didn't need to lift the nightshirt any higher to know that they would be standing to attention, hard nubs just waiting to be suckled. Waiting? I could wait no more and pulled the nightshirt up and over my head.

I ran a hand through my shoulder length wavy brown hair, pushing any displaced locks back out of my eyes. A sultry blown kiss followed, as I ran my hands suggestively around my breasts. If he hadn't already gotten the idea, he soon would do as I leaned forward, lifting my ass up as I brought my mouth up to his, our lips embracing in the most sensual of kisses. That's all it was though, a sensual kiss, a gentle tease of what could have been. I felt his tongue reach out, probing for an opening. I flicked my tongue out, my tip meeting his, then pulled away, offering him a breast instead.

"Mmmm," I moaned as his tongue flicked out across my hard nipple. "Suck them," I whispered down at him, pushing my breast firmly up against his lips.

He wasn't a breast man, at least not without the right encouragement, but once he got that encouragement there was no stopping him. One by one he latched his mouth around each nipple, sucking hard as he pulled back off. A tiny nibble here, a gentle squeeze there, and a caress of his warm tongue, had me purring with delight. There was nothing I liked better than a little gentle play, caressing every inch of my most sensitive spots, setting every nerve ending on edge. It wasn't often enough, but when Dave did put his mind to it, he was a master at stimulating my every desire.

Still leaning over him, his mouth continuing to work at my nipples, I reached an arm back and took hold of his hard cock. I didn't need to check if I was ready; I could feel the wetness down below, and the wanton ache deep inside. Slowly, purposefully, I rubbed his exposed head up and down my snatch, before positioning him over my opening. Then, in one movement, I eased myself backwards, my nipple leaving his mouth with an audible plop as I impaled myself on his cock. I gasped as I felt him stretch my tight pussy out, his head inching deeper and deeper as I rose my body up and sank my ass down. I reached out with my arms, taking his hands in mine.

A quick wink, a blown smile, and then I rode him. Slow and steady, long and deep, it was all on my terms. There was no wham bam thank you ma'am, but just the most sensual slow fuck. I gasped as I felt his head scrape against my pussy walls, caressing that most sensitive area on my front wall as I clamped down on him. I could feel my fires build inside, desire taking over, and I picked up speed, my pert breasts bouncing slightly as I worked my pussy up and down on his shaft.

I gasped as the first ripple of orgasm shot through me, my body stiffening for a moment, before I went back to riding him. Quicker and quicker, shorter and shorter, I worked his cock, feeling those fires reaching a crescendo. Just when I felt I could take no more, I reverted to those long strokes, this time with more passion, more pace, more power.

Another gasp, an audible moan, and then I felt it, a quiver inside as my body went into sensual overdrive. I plunged down on his cock, taking him in as deep as I could. I gasped once more, the fires now a raging inferno as I ground away at him, rubbing my clit against his body as hard as I could. I moaned, close to a scream, as it hit me, the wave of release flooding my body.

My arms buckled and I fell against Dave, panting hard as I rode the wave. Dave wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, then started to thrust from below. They were short shallow thrusts, each accompanied by a carnal duet of manly grunt and euphoric moan. I stiffened once more, as another wave shot through my body, juices flooding out around his cock. Then he did it. Dave gave a final loud grunt as he unloaded inside.

We lay there, panting in each other's arms, as we recovered from our exertions. I could feel his cock starting to soften, a trickle of creamy jizz leaking out of my pussy as he reduced in size, then fell out. Still though we lay there, recovering. It had been one hell of a Valentine's morning; one I wouldn't forget in a long time. Little did I know that it was going to be the start of a most remarkable few days.

In the distance the alarm clock started its high-pitched beep. I reached out, and with the slap of a tired arm, hit the snooze button. Another ten minutes, that's all I needed. Work could wait, but this moment I wanted to last for ever.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I loved my Dave. I always had done in the time we had been together. It had been close to a year and a half now. We hadn't gotten as far as talking about marriage, but I still loved him, for all his shortcomings. I guess it wasn't his fault, nor was popularity a shortcoming. That was the problem. Everyone loved Dave.

We'd met each other in the first year of college, but things didn't take off until quite a few years later. I'd gotten myself a first in accounting, and he had a lower second in business management. I guess at first, I looked down my nose a bit. I'd put the effort in to get myself that first, sacrificing a social life for a future. He'd been the opposite.

I knew him, or more to the point knew of Dave. He lived in the same halls as I did, but that was about it. We didn't socialise. As I said, I sacrificed any real life and preferred the company of a textbook to that of others, especially others like Dave. He was the party animal, full of himself, I guess a total opposite to myself. Strange, I never realised it at the time, but don't they say that opposites attract?

We graduated and that would be that, or so I thought. I got a job and started to put theory into practice. Imagine my surprise when a couple of years later a most familiar newbie walked in through the door. Oh yes, he was full of himself, exuding confidence, always with the right word at the right time. Oh yes, it was the Dave I remembered, only this time in a sharp suit.

Did we intend it to happen? I guess not, but opposites do attract, and one thing just led to another. He could have chosen anyone, the brash bimbos of the typing pool, the soave sophisticated executives, or even the young attractive intern, so ignorant of her own beauty. Instead, he chose quiet little me, studious head in a spreadsheet Rebecca. It'll never last I thought to myself. You're just a stop gap until he finds somebody else. Over and over, I told myself that it was a mistake, but something of the charm must have rubbed off on me as we ended up moving in together.

Dave was in sales—I guess that was par for somebody so popular, somebody with such good looks, and somebody with the real gift of the gab—and I worked in accounts. Dave would get all the plaudits, the big bonuses, the slap-up meals, and I... well I had a little silver plaque on my desk. Written in big black letters was the name 'Rebecca Cummings' with a smaller statement of my role as a management accountant. On a day like this, I would always chuckle as I sat behind my desk. It was a bit of an unfortunate surname, and yes, I had picked up quite a bit of stick in my younger days. On a day like this though, the name stuck. I had done plenty of cumming and done it most enthusiastically before leaving for the office.

Dave? Well, he was simply Dave Smith, salesman of the month ever since he had walked in through the door, and he was my Dave. As I said, I love my Dave. I just... well, you can't blame a girl for doubting, can you? I never wanted to, but when somebody was so successful, so popular, you wondered. Were you just that next rung on the ladder, the helpful step up to a higher more satisfying place? Or was I... surely not... but was I just old reliable Beckie, there when he got home with a smile on my face and a never say no response to whatever he needed. I had nothing to suggest that was the case, but the doubts still lingered.

After this length of time, I should be trusting him more, or even trusting my own judgement. I never mentioned anything to him. There was nothing to mention, at least nothing until this Valentine's Day.

So, why was this day any different to the other two we had spent together? We didn't do the cards and surprise gifts thing, pretending that we didn't know who they were from, but always knowing the answer. Instead, we preferred a touch of good food and plenty of passion. We'd already done the passion bit, not that a second helping wouldn't go amiss, and the food was always at the weekend after Valentine's Day to avoid the cheesiness of that lover's night out.

So, what was different? Well, for a start there was the last-minute sales meeting. Nothing new about a sales meeting, but why on Valentine's Day, and why at the last minute? I knew of these meetings, or at least they called them meetings. I suspected most of the time was spent either in a restaurant or at a bar. He was going to come home smelling a little of booze but nothing more. That was more of an inconvenience than a difference. What was different though was the parcel lying on the doorstep when I got back from the office.

Knowing he would be late, I suggested he grabbed a taxi, and I took the car home. It was a good idea as these meetings, however much he denied it, seemed to have some form of drinking to them. To be honest we didn't need the car anyway as it was only a forty-five-minute walk to the office, but it did make life easier.

It was as I drove back onto our driveway that I first noticed it. Sitting there on the porch, tucked in behind a flowerpot, was a box. I parked the car and went back to investigate, picking up the package. It was simply a box, neatly wrapped in bright red paper, about the length of a shoe box, but nowhere near as big. I guess it was the sort of box you might put a bottle of wine in but, from the weight, it didn't hold any bottle, not even an empty one.

Then there was the question of how did it get there? There was no label, so it can't have been posted. I was still pondering the same as I fumbled for my keys and opened the door. All I could think was that it must have been Dave's way of saying sorry for working late on Valentine's Day. It was so sweet of him to come all the way back and leave a surprise by the door. I put the box down on the coffee table in the lounge. I'd open it later, but a bite to eat, a glass of wine or two, and a bath full of bubbles were the immediate priorities.

By the time I appeared back downstairs, wearing that same nightshirt which I had suggestively removed only a matter of hours earlier, along with a soft dressing gown, I had almost forgotten about the package. It was only as I sat myself down on the sofa, ready for a little television time as I waited for Dave to return home, that I noticed it on the coffee table. Once more I examined the shiny red box, as I carried it from table to sofa. I sank myself down onto the soft cushions, and carefully undid the wrapping paper.