Two Pairs of High Heels

Without pause, however, he literally dragged her into the living room. She stumbled a bit in the shoes; perhaps she wanted to protest; she wanted to say "Hold on... give me a moment..."

But he wanted her a certain way.

Maybe she was starting to realize that even if she had declined his invitation to meet – just for sex – he still would be here doing this.

At the moment, he didn't require her permission. He guided – he ordered – her into the full-light and onto the couch. He could see more now: the red lipstick, the tossed hair; the very significant shoes. He targeted the camera and began to record. She sat there uncomprehending, apparently, until he grabbed her hair and changed the position of her head to accept his cock in her mouth. Her hands rested on her lap, bound at the wrists. It was to be just her lips, tongue, and mouth at his mercy.

He was now straddling her body – legs on either side of her torso – and his hips thrusting toward her face. He could see the semen drying on her cheek. He looked at the screen on the camera and saw it. The fact that he was fucking her mouth in anticipation of a second orgasm, added another urge to his motions and turned her into a different kind of girl.

Everything about her said that they had already spent themselves in the bedroom. The way her lipstick was used and blurred, and the way her hair was mused and matted, and the way she moved – with a hazy acceptance. And yet, she was different, even more different than he had expected. He noted that they were not far from a window, and the blinds had a small crack in them.

It was possible that someone who might have been walking past late at night, and who might have looked over, might have seen through the window. If so, they would have seen two forms – a man and a woman – engaged in a particular type of sex. It would have looked nonconsensual. It would have looked deeply possessive. It would have looked disquietingly honest. He held her head strongly with one hand, he held the camera with the other, and he pushed in and out of her. His cock filling her mouth – retreating – and then plunging back in. Yes, it was fucking.

*********

It was true he thought of her in many different ways. It was also true he thought of her in THAT way.

You could tell – she could tell – afterwards when she watched the video. She made sounds, sort of exhortations, that didn't form words or mean anything in the conventional sense. It seemed the audio portion was almost as revealing as the visual. He called her sweet things and pet names, but that didn't stop him from using her as a little blow job queen.

Her voice was on the verge of a "No..." and then he grabbed her hair, and steered her. He lost himself in it, and she could tell, perhaps... It made her feel overwhelmed.

The video clip ended just after he came in her mouth. It was just sex at that point. His cock impossibly hard, and every part of her, bent to one aim: His cum inside her.

Later, he asked, as he removed the blindfold from her face, and she opened her eyes to look at him for the first time, which pair of shoes she preferred.

"Tomorrow night," she said, "When you come back over, I'll give you an answer."