The Anniversary

I softly lapped at her cunt in the aftermath, like a kitten with a bowl of cream as tiny little tremors continued to rock her body. When she was finally still, I crawled onto the couch and gently gathered her body, now replete, into my arms. She blushed as my cheek, wet with her juices, pressed into hers and her nostrils dilated at the rich spicy fragrance of her pussy. She kissed my lips softly, at first tasting her juices from my flesh and then began to lick, cleaning me up. I held her tenderly as she did, almost afraid that this delicate little bird that I cradled in my arms would fly away any minute.

"So," I asked her softly, "did I help you forget Greg for a few minutes?"

"Who Greg?" she asked and giggled. I knew then that my baby was back.

My clothes were a little worse for wear. I hadn't taken them off during our steamy little encounter. She tugged softly at my shirt wanting me naked as she was. She made urgent little noises in her throat as she worried the buttons, her fingers seemingly incapable of working them off. The temptation to yield my body to her, to feel her lips drifting over the heat of my skin and finally dipping into the wet valley of my cunt was almost impossible to resist. But I knew I must. This evening was not about me. It was about her. I wanted to give her a chance to think, to decide in the clarity of daylight whether this was what she wanted. She seemed to want it, but did she really? Or did she only want a brief respite from her pain in the arms of another human being and I happened to be handy? I had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had somehow used her ... exploited her vulnerability to my own ends. I had already given her enough to regret. I didn't want to give her more.

I closed my hands over her trembling fingers and stilled them.

"I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, Nicole. But I want you to come to me willingly. Tonight, I'm not sure you know what you really want. I want you to be sure, sweetheart."

She made to speak, but I didn't let her. I sealed her softly parted lips with my fingers. She has such wonderful lips, I thought and a momentary pang of regret at my own choice singed my heart. Suddenly, the idea of letting her out of my clutches and allowing her to reflect on our night together seemed colossally stupid. But the sudden bout of nerves passed and I rearranged my face into a warm, kindly mask. I wouldn't succumb.

She finally relented and her body softened against mine. I held her as she drifted off to sleep, her breathing even and relaxed. For me, sleep was a long time coming. When I woke up in the morning, the bed next to me was empty. She was already up. I walked into the kitchen to find her busy with breakfast. I'm not much of a cook and the fragrance of hot food was a somewhat unfamiliar scent in that apartment. She smiled at me brightly as she bustled about her task, pretending to a normalcy that was now impossible. What had passed between us last night stalked the kitchen like a ghost, demanding to be noticed.

It was Saturday morning and we didn't need to be in office. But once breakfast was done with its uneasy intimacy, with its palpable effort not to bring up the obvious, she mumbled that she had to go home to do something or the other, which at that time didn't sound terribly important. I kept my expression neutral, but my heart was turning into cinders. I was certain that I had muffed it, that she had realized in the brutal lucidity of morning that I wasn't what she wanted at all. I was mourning the loss of love and even more the loss of the one friendship that I had really valued, the one uncompromisingly good thing in my somewhat arid life.

She didn't call for the rest of the weekend and I spent it in a fever of anticipation craving and yet dreading a word that would put me out of my misery, one way or the other. When I walked into office on Monday, she was already there. Though I searched her face for a hint ... some hint of how she felt ... it betrayed none. I had barely settled in when she walked in. She didn't knock and when she was inside, she turned around and locked the door from the inside.

Here it comes, I thought, the regret, the rejection, perhaps even the recrimination. I tried to steel my heart against the inevitable, but it was a losing battle. I could feel tears prickling my eyelids as I watched her walk towards me.

She didn't stop when she reached the table. She walked around it, swiveled my chair around and dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of me. Before I could react, her hands had slid along my thighs and grabbed the waistband of my panties.

"I haven't been able to think about anything else this weekend," she moaned as she dragged my panties down my thighs and the soft swelling of my calves. Her voice was husky with desire. "All I've been able to think about is you spread open for me to taste. You're in my head, Justine, and I can't get you out of it."

There was a note of desperation in her voice, of soft helplessness. I almost wept with relief. She hooked my knees over the arms of my chair, opening me up. I heard the soft whistle of her breath escaping her lips as she looked at me, finally naked.

"Oh, God, Justine ... you are so beautiful," she whispered, a hint almost of awe in her voice.

And then she began to feast. She was greedy, her eagerness more than making up for her inexperience. My bottom jerked off the chair, offering her the homage of my wet open cunt. She lashed it with her tongue and worried it with her lips and nipped it with her teeth until I was a helpless quivering mass of hungry flesh. I didn't last long. She was softly chewing my pussy and sucking my clit when I exploded. She held me in place, the tight half moons of my bottom cradled tenderly in her palms, as she drank up every last drop. Finally, when she had eased my trembling body down and I lay sprawled on the chair, drained, my thighs still splayed open, she giggled happily.

I regarded her with eyes that were heavylidded from a surfeit of sensation and curled my fingers in her hair to pull her up to me. As she nuzzled my throat with her lips wet with my juices, I whispered playfully in her ear, "You're going to pay for this."

"Yesss ..." she hissed, "Make me pay. Take me home tonight, baby and make me pay."

And I did. That night, I splayed her wide open, lashed her ankles and wrists to my bedposts and fucked her senseless.

It became a fixture, her occasional invasion of my space, the risk of discovery adding spice to our heated encounters. She loved feeding on my pussy. I got used to the sight of her curled up at my feet, softly sucking the lips of my cunt, gently teasing the wet pink flesh into leaking for her. And she had become willful. She wouldn't take no for an answer. Not that I wanted to say no very often, except to inflame her hunger.

She would suddenly burst into my office, announce that she was thirsty and without further ado rip my panties off to expose my cunt to her eyes and her fingers and her ravenous lips. She especially liked to toy with my pussy while I was on the phone with someone, spreading me open with long lazy licks as I discussed graphics and spreadsheets and orders and other nagging details of my business. And if I got too comfortable, she would suddenly flick my clit or plunge her tongue into my sopping cunt or slowly ease a finger into my anus, forcing me to cover the mouthpiece with my hand and stifle a moan.

And it was on one of those days when she was working diligently between my thighs and licking me into a frenzy that suddenly those words spurted from my softly parted lips, "Oh, God ... I love you, Nicole." I think I was as startled as she was at my confession, but the minute those words had escaped my throat and hung, pregnant with meaning, in that room, I knew without a trace of doubt that they were true. She grinned happily and went back to her task, burying her tongue in my pulsing cunt. It was not long before I was thrashing in release.

When I had stilled and she looked up, she saw the disquiet on my face and the almost painful anxiety. Her face softened with concern.

"What's wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?"

"N-no," I stammered, "But ... you know ... you didn't say anything," I finished awkwardly.

"Oh, silly!" she crooned, sitting on the arm of my chair and drawing my face into the softness of her breasts, "I've loved you since that night you kissed my tears away. I never gathered the courage to tell you. I was afraid I would scare you off and that you would turn tail and leave me all naked and wanting," she teased.

That night, she moved in with me. She didn't get a chance to unpack that night. I took her amidst unopened boxes and cartons, the detritus of her previous life. I wanted her to begin our journey together with a helpless whimper, a hungry moan ripped from a body that was twitching with pleasure.

It was a year since that night when she had wept for broken dreams and a sinking ship and I had consoled her for both, her body naked and trembling in my arms. My passion for her hadn't lessened. If anything, it was sharper, more acute from knowing that she was mine to hurt and to hold. Having her heart in my keeping made so much more intense all the times our bodies thrashed on the sheets, eager and insatiable.

She stirred in her sleep and rolled onto her back, her breasts bare, the thin sheet covering her rucked up in the valley between her thighs. I gently tugged the sheet loose and flung it aside. Now, she was naked as she was meant to be. I teased her thighs apart, careful not to wake her. She sighed softly as the valley between her legs widened and her cunt was exposed to my gaze. Sleep had not yet abandoned her.

Her lips were stuck together, shielding the soft, pink entrance to her hole. I teased them apart with my tongue until she was wet glistening flesh. And then I began to lick. Her hips began to dance on the sheet, but the liquid sensation of having her pussy laved had still not fully invaded her consciousness. A tiny frown had creased her forehead. She was fighting to stay asleep. And then with a strangled little gasp, she came awake to the unbearable torment of her soft flesh rolling in my mouth. Her fingers buried themselves in my hair and her hips began to buck driving her cunt more firmly against my lips seeking release. But today was special and I had other plans for her. They did not include her cumming so quickly. When she was teetering on the very edge, I released her and held her down firmly as she thrashed on the sheets, aching for some contact that would put her out of her misery. ... Not yet, my pet. I need you to suffer before you are saved ... She pouted in protest as I hustled her out of bed.

Later, I joined her in the shower. As the water drummed on our backs, relaxing our muscles with its warmth, I passed her beautiful body through my soapy hands. She arched her body against mine expectantly as my fingers drifted between her legs. But I carefully avoided her clit, which was swollen and peeking out of its fleshy hood. I spread open the cheeks of her tight little bottom and stretched open her crinkled little hole with a questing finger. I twisted the finger inside her tight passage and then added a second. She was moaning softly, her hips churning in tight little circles. I held her tenderly as she heaved, letting her savor the violation of her anus before withdrawing, leaving her achingly empty. She whimpered, her lips fluttering softly against my throat. I steeled myself against the temptation to fuck her to a finish.

She looked glorious afterwards, her damp tresses hanging in soft curls to her shoulders, a thick white towel wrapped around her breasts, its bottom edge barely concealing her naked pussy.

"I've a gift for you," she said shyly, "It's our first anniversary," she added, as though I was in need of an explanation.

I unwrapped the blue velvet box carefully. Inside it was a solitaire pendant on a delicate silver chain that I had been admiring for the last several weeks in the window of Duncan's. It must have wiped out her savings. I was touched by her gesture and was even more determined to make the day as achingly beautiful for her as I had planned.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I whispered, trailing my fingers along her cheek, "I've a gift for you too."

She clapped her hands with childlike delight. "Show me... Show me."

I retrieved the carved rosewood box I had placed on the bedside table and opened it to reveal the two platinum spheres nestling quietly in their velvet beds. She looked confused. She regarded them with a bemused air and then turned to me in enquiry, "What are they?"

She was going to find out.

"They are ben wa balls." I replied as I scooped one of the spheres out of the box. It was hollow, with a heavier sphere within, which came to life with movement. I dropped the sphere in the hollow of her palm where she regarded it curiously.

"But what are they for?" she asked, still mystified.

"Well," I explained, my lips teasing her ear with my breath, an arm around her naked shoulder "I'm going to insert them into your pussy and you're going to wear them all day. They will dance in your cunt with every movement of your body and they'll drive you crazy."

I waited for the meaning of what I had said to sink in before I continued.

"What'll make it really interesting, kitten, is that you aren't allowed to cum, not until I say you can. So no sneaking off to the little girl's room to diddle yourself. Before the day is done, sugarbun, I think you'll beg."

Her eyes grew wider and wider as she listened and when I was done, her lips parted in a soft moan.

"Is that a yes, sweetheart?" I asked her as I whipped the towel away and pushed her gently onto her back on the bed. I prized her fingers open to release the sphere that she was now clutching in a death's grip. I rolled the smooth ball in the groove of her sex wetting it before stretching open the mouth of her cunt and sliding it in. She groaned at the sensation of being split open and filled. When the second ball followed rubbing shoulders with its companion in the hot wet vise of her pussy, she whimpered. It was going to be a long day. I inserted her feet into the legs of her black thong panties and pulled it tight until the sheer fabric dammed her wet sopping entrance.

She pulled herself upright and shivered as the spheres rolled inside her, gently teasing her cunt to life. The drive to work was eventful. I took the first speedbreaker at full tilt and was gratified to see her eyes widen with disbelief at the tango that ensued in her cunt. When the next one came around, there was something resembling panic in her eyes and mute entreaty. I took pity on her. She began to breathe again only when it was behind us. It was the longest ride of her life.

She wasn't her usual efficient self in the office. She fumbled with papers, took forever to get me the things I wanted and responded to questions in a strangled half whisper that I found rather appealing. Since she was so distracted, she was having to walk around a lot more than she usually does to get her work done. That wasn't helping. It was barely lunch and she was already looking flushed. Her breathing was ragged and she was leaning against my table, her palms flat on its surface. I placed one hand on her knee and slid it up her skirt. Her thigh was awash with her juices.

"Mmmm ... you're ready, I think," I said.

"Ready for what?" she asked in a voice that was half gasp, half whimper.

"To go shopping," I said cheerfully.

"Sh-shopping?" she stammered. She looked at me as though I had finally lost my mind.

"Yes. There's something I want to pick up for you," I replied blithely.

The drive wasn't a long one. I was headed for a nearby mall that housed several luxury brands under one roof. I did most of my shopping there. One of the stores, Risqué, offered sensuous lingerie, the erotic appeal of which never failed to stir my pussy into delicious wetness. It seemed the right day to pick up something naughty for Nicole to slide into, something that I would enjoy taking off. Actually, the store even offered stuff that I wouldn't need to take off – stockings and garter belts and crotchless panties. My mind was filled with visions of Nicole's cunt framed by delicate silk as my strap-on sluiced wetly in and out of her flesh.

Since it was still afternoon, the store wasn't crowded and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. Despite her predicament or perhaps because of it, because of her heightened awareness of her throbbing pussy, Nicole was very interested in the display. There were a few pieces that caught my fancy and she giggled happily as I speculated as to how she might look in them. She was particularly taken with a set of bra and panties in sheer red lace, as delicate and as ephemeral as cotton candy. While we stood in the middle of the store, a little uncertain, spoilt for choice, a store attendant walked up to us. Of course, in this store, they call them fashion assistants.

Her nametag read Tara. She was petite, a good six inches shorter than I was. Her dark hair framed a heart shaped face with melting brown eyes, a cute upturned nose and thick sensuous lips, the sort that would look wonderful wrapped around a plump nipple. When she spoke, her voice was soft and soothing – a voice designed for selling dreams and lingerie.

"Can I help you ladies? Would you like to try something on?"

"Well," I asked Nicole, "Would you like to try something on?"

She looked at me in consternation and then hissed under her breath, "I can't. I'm all wet."

"She says she can't," I said, turning to Tara, "She's all wet."

Nicole blushed scarlet. Her expression as she looked at me was one of utter disbelief, her "I can't believe you just did that" look. I tend to get a lot of those. I pretended not to notice. Tara didn't miss a beat.

"Aah ... a common problem," she replied breezily, "Would Ma'am like me to measure her friend so she can be sure to pick the right size?"

"Yes, that would be nice," I replied before Nicole had a chance to say a word.

"This way," she announced and flounced off in the direction of the changing rooms at the far end of the store.

"Justine ..." There was an edge of desperation in Nicole's voice.

But before her nerves failed her and she hightailed it out of the store, I quickly placed a palm in the small of her back and steered her in Tara's wake. As I followed her, I cast an admiring glance over the brunette's tight little rear, the sort that you want to grip as you drive a dildo deep into her cunt. She stopped outside one of the empty booths and ushered us in.

It was large, with floor to ceiling mirrors for walls. Nicole stood in the middle of the room, her eyes downcast, her fingers intertwined. She was clearly mortified at the prospect of confessing her hunger in so unmistakable a fashion to a stranger in a store. Tara looked at me enquiringly.

"Strip," I said. My voice, though soft, rang out in the confines of the changing room. Nicole started as if she had been whipped. She hesitated for a brief second before slowly unbuttoning her shirt. She looked so delicious there in that room quietly stripping in front of her lover and a woman that she had never met before that I almost wondered if I would be able to resist the temptation of taking her right there, surrounded by piles of sexy lingerie, our passion multiplied a million times in those mirrors that would bear mute witness to our hunger.

Nicole was down to her bra and panties. Next to me, Tara's breathing had quickened. There was no mistaking the dampness that had spread like ink across the fabric of Nicole's thong and then seeped down the silken skin of her thigh. Her flesh was glistening in the light, a monument to need. Tara collected herself and walked around Nicole to stand behind her. She ran the tape measure around Nicole's breasts measuring those soft mounds that brought me so much delight in the heat of our shared nights.