Whitman

Author's note: This is the second story I've ever submitted to Literotica. I welcome any comments, feedback, and constructive criticism you have. I want to improve my writing. I hope that you do enjoy this.

Thanks

Belle

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Walking home through the park, after this retirement party for one of his co-workers, she was feeling antsy. Happy, a little sloshed, but definitely antsy. Or horny. Yes, horny, now that she thought about it. They were hand in hand, walking amiably, the night air cool bordering on chilly. The party had been fine, one of those obligatory functions for fun and networking. At one of those restaurants that had been trendy two years ago and was still out of their budget. She never liked parties like that, feeling awkward because she doesn't know many of the people he works with, and not really enjoying crowds in the first place. But he'd had a good time, schmoozing and circulating, laying the groundwork for a promotion. She enjoyed watching him in that mode: authoritative, confident, man of the world.

She decided he needed a reward. She decided she needed a reward. She gripped his had a little tighter and made a bee line for a retaining wall at the side of the pathway they were on. Before he'd registered that she'd drawn them over there, she'd jumped up to sit on the wall, and pulled him closer to her. She leaned towards him and ran her hands over his shirt, tugging on his tie to get him to bend down and kiss her.

Instead he said, "What are you doing?"

Feeling bold, she reached for his belt, started to unbuckle it. Giggled.

"Imma give you a hand job."

"What?"

She went straight for his zipper. "You know. Or a blow job. You love those."

He stood very still, and she glanced at his face. "What? Out here?"

"Why not?"

"In public?"

"Hmm, sure. Why not? Besides, it's late. It's not like it's crowded."

He pushed her hands away from him, caught one in each of his. "No. Not here."

She pretended to pout. Saw him looking over at the trees on the other side of the pathway. "Ooooh. You know a spot?"

"What?" His voice was incredulous, "No. I don't know a spot. I think someone's over there."

She leaned sideways to look at the trees. "Who? Cops? Or a homeless person?"

"Doesn't matter."

"C'mon, dude, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Not in getting a summons for public lewdness."

She pulled her hands away from his and leaned back, propped on the far edge of the retaining wall. She arched her back and ostentatiously moved her knees so that they were to the outside of his thighs. She decided it had been fortuitous that she'd chosen this knit wrap dress, because there was lots of give in the skirt.

"You ain't SEEN lewd yet."

That made him laugh, and he finally bent down to kiss her. Softly at first, then more insistent, gently pushing open her lips to slide his tongue in her mouth. He caressed her cheek and clasped the back of her neck in both hands. She sat up, moving toward him, sliding her arms around his waist, under his suit jacket. His tongue finding hers, probing her mouth, moving aside so she could do the same for him. They were totally absorbed in the moment.

"Ahem." And an obviously fake cough.

He let go of her and spun around. She quickly crossed her legs and assumed a demure pose. The cop was standing in the middle of the pathway, his partner a few feet further on. They were both staring, but the one closest mostly looked amused.

"Evening, officer," he said.

"You guys need to move it on inside. Before I have to assume there's some kind of transaction going on here."

She could see him blush, even in the glare of the street lamps.

"Oh, no officer," she said. Stopping herself before adding something about definitely giving it away for free. "We're almost home. My building's just at the end of the block." She pointed across the street.

The cop said drolly, "Good. I'm sure you'll both be fine to wait. Just get a move on."

He helped her off the retaining wall, and she made a show of dusting off her butt. She took his hand and they started walking again. He glanced back a couple of times to make sure the cops were moving on as well. They walked hand in hand for a few yards, toward the gate that marked the boundary for the park.

He stopped walking. "I'm dating an exhibitionist, now, huh?"

She walked on for a few paces then turned toward him. Taking a step back with each word, she said. "Sure. Exhibitionist. Voyeur. Submissive. Bitch. Masochist-ish. Pseudo-sadist." She stopped and let him catch up to her. Patted his chest and emphasized each syllable comically "Fellatio aficionado." Shrugged. "What can I say. 'I am large. I contain multitudes'."

He pretended to scowl. "You know, they have therapy for that these days, Whitman."

She laughed. "Ok, smartass. If you're dating Walt Whitman, who am I dating?"

"The luckiest guy in this whole city."

She laughed harder and smacked his chest. "Well, I knew that already. Jeez."

She turned and walked away, pretending to be miffed. He let her get several yards ahead, watching her walk and considering something, planning something. When he caught up to her he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close to his side. She put her arm around his waist, and they went the rest of the way to her building.

In the elevator, she was preoccupied with finding her keys in the new purse she'd gotten to go with the dress. She wasn't paying attention to his change in demeanor. How still he was standing, watching her. She didn't notice the look on his face, a mixture of lust, possessiveness, and calculation. They got to her floor and she walked on ahead to her apartment. He was formulating his plan. Inside her apartment, she tossed her new purse on the catch all table just inside the door. She kept walking away as he was taking of his suit jacket and draping it over the back of the couch.

He started to say her name, but she interrupted "I gotta pee."

"Ok. Don't take too long. I have to tell you something."

She glanced at him. "Ok, sure. I'll just change real quick."

"No, don't. It's, um, it's important."

Now she was a little worried. "Ok. I'll be right back."

Her apartment was, as the realtor had explained it, 'open concept'. One large room with all the living areas visible to each other. Behind the part that was the living room was an alcove made of three doors set perpendicular to each other. These led to the bathroom and bedrooms. The wall at the far end of the living areas was made of floor to ceiling windows and a sliding glass door that led to the balcony. This was the main reason she'd moved into the apartment. Next to the windows was a small table with a couple of dining chairs. The realtor had said 'breakfast nook' even though it was as far as you could get from the kitchen.

When she came out of the bathroom, that's where he was sitting, which was odd. He was sideways in a chair, with his back to the table, elbows on his knees, hands and head hanging down. The posture was odd too, for him. She started to wonder if she'd missed something at the party, maybe the schmoozing hadn't gone as well as it'd seemed. She noticed that the drapes over the windows and glass door were opened. Not just the heavy solid ones, but the sheers too. But that didn't seem important now.

She walked through the living area and he sat up as he heard her approach. That's when she finally noticed the change in him. He leaned back against the table, shifted on the seat so his legs splayed out, made a show of caressing his penis through his pants. But the look on his face was what struck her. It was hard, appraising, like he was sizing up her worth and didn't care what she thought about it. It was dangerous, almost. She realized she'd stopped walking as soon as he looked at her. Realized that suddenly she felt off balance and hyperaware of the space between them. Aware that despite the change in atmosphere she was still horny.

He just looked at her for a long minute, then gestured with the hand that wasn't on his cock. "Come over here."

She walked over and stopped about four feet away from him. Watched him roam his eyes over every inch of her. "You said you wanted to talk..."

"I said I needed to tell you something."

"Oh."

"Take that off."

"What?"

"You heard me. Take that off. Leave the heels and stockings. Everything else goes."

She'd never heard that commanding tone of voice before, but it seemed natural. Like this was a side of him that had always existed, but she just hadn't met yet. But her brain seized up on the question of how he knew she was wearing stockings, not pantyhose. So she just stood there, staring at him, her imagination running full steam.

"Now."

That one clear word cut through her confusion. And the shiver it sent down her spine sealed her decision to play along. She reached back to undo the tie to her dress, brought the ends around to the front so that the dress started to gap open.

"No. Slowly." He was still leaned back against the table, slowly moving his hand back and forth along the length of his cock, which she could see was starting to get erect.

Moving more deliberately now, she eased open the front of the dress, sliding her hands along the fabric and taking longer than she needed to pull it open the whole way. He rewarded her with a smile and slight nod as she let the dress slide off her body. Then she hesitated, and he just tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. She unhooked her bra and let the straps fall off her shoulders, pulled it away from her breasts and it joined her dress on the floor. She slid her thumbs along the waist of her panties, glad now of the stockings, the kind that stayed up on their own so her underwear could just slide off over them.

She pushed her panties down, making a point to bend all the way over, keeping eye contact with him until the very end when she was stepping out of them. As she straightened back up, she realized she was wet and her nipples were hard. She very aware of her own breathing, aware of his breathing, aware of the temperature in the apartment and the little currents of air swirling around from the windows. She had a moment to wonder why she wasn't trying to cover herself, why her hands were just hanging loosely at her sides.

He was smiling. "Turn around. One complete revolution. Let me really see you."

She started to turn, slowly, giving him time to appreciate it, to appraise her. Giving herself time to think about telling him to leave and just going to her bedroom. It wasn't a conscious decision to acquiesce, but by the time she'd turned to face him she'd already made it.

He was leaning forward again, elbows on his knees. "Come over here. Come to me."

She walked over the last several feet, her knees a little wobbly. She stood directly in front of him in line with his knees, and he ran his hands all over her torso, back, sides, down the backs of her thighs. She started to put her hands on his shoulders, but he shook his head and placed her palms together, behind her back. "Link your fingers. Good. Keep them there."

He resumed touching and caressing her, every part of her except her pussy. Sliding the back of one hand up her abdomen, while the other slid over her spine, cupped her ass and squeezed gently. Now both hands were on her breasts, lifting, squeezing, running his thumbs over her nipples. He leaned forward and kissed her cleavage. Pushed her breasts together and kissed and licked where they touched. Kissed and licked, and ran his teeth down to the most tender skin under one breast, then the same with the other. Alternately licking and sucking on each nipple.

She wanted to grasp his head, run her fingers through his hair, pull him closer to her. But everything about the way he'd acted since they walked in her door told her to obey. Just obey. So she gripped her own fingers more tightly and sighed as he kept teasing her with his hands and mouth.

He moved his hands lower, down her back, squeezing and pinching her ass, pulling her cheeks apart, running his hands down her thighs, around the outside and then one hand on the inside of each leg. He sat back and pressed his hands apart. She instinctively widened her stance and let him glide up the inside of her thighs, where he stopped short of touching her labia. He moved to grip her hips, turned her sideways and sat her on his leg, his hand at the small of her back, her hands still clasped together.

She watched his face as he ran his free hand up her stomach again, sliding all the way up her front, over her neck to her chin. He gripped her there and turned her head toward him. Leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. Kissed her again, but then his hand was on her knee, pushing her legs open, and they both looked down. She moved the leg closest to his body, trying to graze his penis with her knee. He shifted back in his chair.

"Oh, you want my cock?" She started to say yes. "You haven't earned it."

For such a bizarre statement, it seemed perfectly logical under the circumstances.

He pushed her knees apart and now, finally, grazed her pussy with the backs of his fingers. Made a lazy circle around her whole vulva. There was something detached, almost clinical, about what his hand was doing that made her even more acutely aware of her body's reaction. Her skin was flushed, she was breathing harder, she was shaking slightly, but mostly could feel how wet she'd gotten.

One more circle around her vulva, somehow avoiding all the trigger points, then he took two fingers and slid them inside her. Slowly, directly over her clit and as deep inside her as they could go. It felt like he was probing for her g-spot, like he almost touched her cervix; it felt so good. Involuntarily, she arched her back and inhaled sharply. He withdrew his fingers and held them to her face, they were covered in her natural lubrication.

He moved his hand closer to her mouth. "Lick the tips."

She leaned forward quickly and took both fingers all the way in her mouth. Sucked hard, and he was pulling them out of her mouth. There was a sharp pain on her cheek and she realized he'd actually slapped her. Startled, she looked at him, and he jammed the fingers back in her cunt. The other hand was now gripping her by the hair at the back of her head. She gasped as he rubbed her clit with his thumb and then pulled out his hand as quickly as it'd gone in.

His hand was in front of her face again. "Lick. The. Tips." With his grip on her hair, he wasn't letting her lean forward. He slowly brought his fingers closer to her mouth and she opened it, stuck her tongue out and he let her make contact with his fingertips. She obediently licked just the tops, his fingernails, and the pads; he pulled her back by the hair, but let his fingers stay in contact with her mouth. Now he was pulling her head back, so that her chin tilted up and exposed her throat. He wiped the rest of her juice off on her neck and chest, leaving a wet streak. He let go of her hair and patted her hands; they were still gripped together behind her back.

"You're going to need these. Take off my tie and unbutton my shirt."

She unclasped her hands and realized that she'd been clenching hard enough that her fingers hurt. She shook out her hands and started working on his tie. He'd loosened it a little already, so getting it undone the rest of the way was simple.

She started to unbutton his shirt but he said, "Drape my tie around your neck."

She did, and felt herself get a little more nervous. She finished unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest, pulling the shirttail out of his pants. He presented his wrists so she could undo the cuffs and they worked together to get his shirt off. He tossed it on the floor near the pile of her clothes. She looked at him expectantly, and reached toward his belt. He nodded, and let her unbuckle his belt, but stopped her when she reached for his fly.

"Better. But you still haven't earned that."

She sat upright on his leg, trying to suss out what he meant by that. What it would mean to have earned the privilege to touch his cock, to have it touch her. Some primitive, anti-intellectual, base part of her brain just desperate to be deemed worthy. She marveled for a second at these pieces of her personality that were popping up unbidden. He leaned back against the table, one arm on the back of the chair he was sitting on. That possessive, appraising look was back. She felt small. She felt priceless. She felt incredibly aroused.

He stroked her hair and slid his hand down her back again, slid a finger into the crack of her ass, almost touched her anus. He leaned forward and kissed her again, holding her head in both hands, turning her head so he got the angles he wanted, fully in control of their contact. His tongue in her mouth, pressing against hers, opening her up, turning her head, pulling her up and closer to him. All about him, all about his comfort, his preferences. It didn't even occur to her to reach for him, her hands somehow useless, hanging between her legs.

When he broke the kiss, he pulled his tie from around her neck. "Hold up your hands. Good. Palms together."

He placed a length of the fat end of the tie between her hands. "Press your hands together. Press the heels together hard. You have to hold on to this tie."

She did as she was told and secured the tie in her grip. He started winding it around her wrists, a full turn around both wrists, then a figure eight between them, passing the tail under one of the previous loops so that when it cinched down, it secured itself. She was wondering when he'd learned to do that as he got to the tail end and drew it up between her arms. He reached for the section she had in her hands, and quickly tied the ends together. It was makeshift but effective.

"Now, pull off my belt."

It was a little more difficult to grip the end of his belt with her hands tied together, and there wasn't much space to maneuver, the way they were positioned. But she accomplished the task and soon had his belt in her hands. He kissed her lightly as he took it from her. He draped his belt over her shoulder, buckle hanging down, and positioned her bound wrists up closer to her chin. Told her she better not let her hands drop while he was working.

He picked up the tail end of the belt and dragged it slowly to meet her wrists, making sure that she could feel the buckle bumping along her back. He forced open a space between two of the windings of the tie, and threaded the end of his belt through it. He kept pulling the belt through that space until the buckle was close, then he flattened the buckle so it wouldn't get pulled all the way through.

He took her bound hands in one of his and the belt in the other. He lifted up her hands and pressed them back over her head, her arms bent, with elbows straight up in the air, and hands behind her neck. He used the belt to tug her hands down and back, then shifted her weight enough to slide the end of the belt under one ass cheek so that when she sat up straight the end of the belt was secured, and she was effectively holding up her own hands, trapped simply by her body weight. It was an uncomfortable position, and she realized that her ass hurt from sitting on his leg. She shifted her weight slightly, to roll her hips forward some and put more of her weight on her feet.

He enjoyed the effect that movement had, because she wound up sticking her tits out further, and sticking her ass out. He put one hand in the small of her back and the other between her tits, pushed each hand toward the other to accentuate the position. Then he started teasing her with his hands and mouth.

He pushed her knees apart, and she twisted slightly toward him. He ran one hand up the inside of her thigh, across her pussy, and down the other thigh. She spread her legs as much as she could, and finally made some contact with his penis. Not enough, just slight pressure, but at least this time he didn't stop her. She couldn't really caress him with her knee, so settled for just trying to maintain the contact while his hands were roving all over her body. His touch was gentle, light, just enough that she knew he was there.