Poor Mikey

Continued from Kim Has a Great House

He followed her up the stairs at what he thought would have been a discreet distance but being four steps behind put him nose to crack with the small tight bottom he had chased around the reservoir that morning. The stunning surprise of seeing her entirely nude on arrival was past now, replaced by the growing ache of naked desire that he hadn’t anticipated for this evening.

The first room they passed looked to be the master bedroom with a Cadillac-size bed and a lot of dark wood. Like every other room he passed it was discreetly lit by candles or small unseen lights.  He continued down the long hallway, the milky glow of her skin illuminating his path through the dimly lit manse.

They made a right and at the end of the hall he followed Kim into what he took to be her room. It didn’t register as a bedroom right off; dominated by a large flat desk, a wall of books a cabinet next to the bookshelf some overstuffed chairs and cushions…then the bed tucked back in the corner. Smaller than the other rooms on the floor it still seemed larger than his apartment, but still less a bedroom than an escape. A lair.

Once inside she turned to face him. “Welcome” she smiled and came up on her toes to kiss him for the first time. An almost chaste (as chaste as it can be given the circumstances) little kiss as she took his wine from him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too….”

She rubbed her hip against him…”I can see that…”

She grabbed his belt and pulled him close. “You’re overdressed”, she said and took his shirt-the one he had spent forty minutes picking out in front of a mirror-and helped him strip it off over his head. She tossed it somewhere over into the shadows.

He stood erect as she ran her lips over his chest and flicked her tongue on his left nipple-then his right. “Feel that?” she cooed.

“I do…”

“Your turn”, she pulled away. “Just like that…”

He had to bend to reach them but his lips closed easily over her tiny breasts. Her nipples pulsed to twice their normal size as they rolled along his tongue. “Bite”, she whispered. He closed his teeth gently and heard her gasp. He nibbled one then licked his way over and nibbled the other. “Harder” she whispered. He tightened his grip and backed her slowly into the large oak desk.

Feeling the edge of the desk crossing her bottom she boosted herself up onto it causing Mike to break contact. He parted her legs gently hearing the squeak of the bare wood against bare skin as she adjusted her bottom. Her head lolled backward and her eyes closed as he slipped his hand up her warm thigh and rubbed its edge against her shaved pubis. She was slick and wet as a peeled plum and opened eagerly to accept his prodding finger. Again, a gasp as she pulled him close and drove her tongue into his mouth.

“I want to go down on you…” he said.

“And you shall….” she answered him. He withdrew his finger and began to genuflect before her when she stopped him. “…Just not yet.” He stood up and slipped again between her legs to kiss her.

“When?” he asked.
“I need something first.” She put her hand on his chest and pushed him backward pausing to cup the outline of his cock pulsing down his leg. “He wants out…”

“He does…”

“In time.”

She hopped from the desk and flowed toward the cabinet against the far wall. She was moving more fluidly now, lubricated and looser in the hips. When she opened the door a tiny glow inside illuminated what looked like a full inventory of scarves and robes and, as she reached into the back, at least one riding crop.

“Ahhh…” he said.

“Ahh, indeed.”

She handed it to him as one would a screwdriver to tighten a hinge. A particular tool for a particular job.

“Over the bed?” he asked.

“It seems I like the feel of the wood.”

“Turn around then”, he said. “And bend over…”

She stood against the desk and lay flat down on its cool surface. Her hips broke at the edge and her bottom blossomed backward. Her feet barely grazed the carpet. A slid his hand over her back then down along her hip. He couldn’t resist kissing her bottom and then rubbing his tongue along then around her asshole then further south.

“Later”, she said. “Crop now.”

He straightened and loosened his arm once then flicked with his wrist making a little “Tick” sound on her right cheek with the leather loop at the crop’s tip. She didn’t move.

“Hey”, she said gently looking back over her shoulder. “I have a husband who thinks I’m a China Doll that will break if he uses me too hard. I don’t need that from you.”

He stood beside her, massaging her rump and hamstrings. “What do you need from me?”

“He’s in India for two weeks. Enough time for the bruises to heal.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure….” He heard an edge when she said, “Just not very patient.”

His second stroke-a harder flick-landed where the first one had but with a louder “Smack!” Then another just below that one and a third on the left cheek. The crop was new to him-at work he used a paddle when the conditions called for it but that was it. He was a fast learner though-each stroke was progressively harder and he went from leaving a tiny red mark where the tip landed to leaving pink trails that traversed both globes.

Of course it would have been tough NOT to learn because she was coaching at almost every stroke. “Harder!” she growled. “And my legs-my legs too!…”OW! Yes-Good One!”

“Ouch! I like stipes on my legs…where others might see at the gym.”

“Oww-go lower there-right-OW! Yeah! There…”

“Inside! Inside my leg…OW!”

“That one wasn’t much. Are you getting tired?…OWW! Better-better-“

He kept quiet and delivered stoke after stroke. She directed, she moaned, she yipped, she wriggled, and in general became more agitated with each successive blow until she began thrusting slowly, seemingly humping the desk edge.

“OK, step it up now”, she gasped spreading her legs wider. Step it up? he thought. How is that even possible?

“My asshole Mikey! Smack my asshole.” Oh geeze, he thought.  That’s how. His forehead glistened and he could feel perspiration running off of his bald head. He turned sideways to measure his target and flicked his wrist as if he was throwing darts. A dark blister bloomed on the inside of her right cheek.

“OW!” she yelled. “You missed…”

“It’s tiny!” He answered. He flicked again-strongly.

“Ow! You missed again” A twin rose bloomed on the inside of her other cheek. They would rub when she walked.  He pinched sweat out of his eyes and wiped his hands on his jeans-where a hard-on used to live.

“You keep moving it…” he spit-frustrated.

“Jesus! How hard could it be?!”

He lashed a stroke across her soft sit-spot that would challenge the two week healing timeframe.

“Ahhh!” Her body jumped in response. “Damn!” She reached back and squeezed the skin trying to knead the burn away. “Good! Wow…that was…Damn! Ok, OK…Here-try this!”

She rolled onto her back and flipped her legs over, almost kicking him in the head. Her back squeaking, she scootched herself further onto the desk and threw her legs straight up then back, grabbing her knees and opening herself wide. Through her legs Mike could see her bookshelf against the far wall and squinted for a moment to see if he could make out any titles. It was too dim in the room.

She glistened with sweat and red lashes colored most of her backside and legs. “There now”, she breathed. “Hit me there!” The way she was presenting left no doubt about the target. Oh for the love of…he thought, hesitating.

“DO IT!” she screeched.

Startled, he looked at her tear-streaked face shining up between her ankles. She opened her eyes, wet and feral, and softened when she saw his expression. “I’m sorry Mikey”, she said from a faraway place. “I didn’t mean to yell….but…” Again he said nothing-just directed a flick of the crop directly-but softly-right into her damp center. It struck with a wet splat and he did it again, but softer still. Her breath came in quick gulps and she pulled rhythmically back on her knees.

Enough of this, he told himself and let the crop fall to the floor. Before she could register that it was gone he dipped his face into the soft, swollen wetness between her legs. He couldn’t have found her clit any easier if it had grabbed him by the nose and pulled him in. She gasped and grabbed his head with both hands as his tongue lashed at her.

She came in seconds-screaming and spurting and kicking a staccato rhythm into his back. He dutifully stayed at his post lapping and digging his tongue deeper as the storm slowly subsided. When her legs draped over his shoulders he came up for air.

“Wow”, she said. “Wow…” She was spent for a moment and silent. But only for a moment “Now take me to the bed. Carry me. In your arms…”

As opposed to what, he thought, over my shoulders? On my head…? He stopped his internal bitching when he lifted her and she snuggled her face into his shoulder. The hard-on that had run away and hid earlier was stretching back out of its den.

He lay her gently on the bed where she immediately reached out for his belt buckle. He let her work at it until she said, “This is a great belt.” She kneaded the thick leather between her fingers. “Do you think you…”

“Oh no you don’t”, he said slapping her hands away. She gave him a wicked smile as he unzipped and pushed his pants down putting the strap out of reach. “Maybe later”, she said stretching to pull open the bed stand drawer. Inside were what looked to be hundreds of condoms in multicolored packets. Mike didn’t care to register that right now-he slipped one on and knelt between her legs.

“Missionary”, he said aloud. “Who’d a thunk it?” She didn’t hear him as his insertion kicked her head back and his long strokes took her back to her wild place. He joined her there pumping and slamming her into the mattress, feeling his own build, remembering how she looked over the desk-remembering her smile the first time she spoke to him, thinking of….He heard her keening just as he opened his mouth to bark his own song.

They lay side by side watching the ceiling until the bed stopped heaving and their breaths became just breaths. He stroked the top of her thigh absently feeling himself growing again.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but why so many condoms?”

“I always put one on my dildos when I stick them in my ass.”

Oh, of course, he thought. Why didn’t I know that?

She softly took his hand and guided it to her warm pussy and further to her glittering clit-still sending off tiny electrical charges.

“As long as you’re here, would you mind…?” She rolled onto her side away from him and hiked her knee high exposing her tortured little asshole and the bruises that lined it. She picked a condom off the table and tossed it back. “Here-no lube-just push it in…”

Sure, why not, he asked himself conscious that he wasn’t speaking. It wasn’t necessary. He slipped on the blue rubber and spit in his hand to moisten the tip.

“I said no lube!”

“It’s SPIT for Chissakes,” he barked swatting her right cheek leaving a bright handprint overlaying the candy stripes.

“Oww!” she cried. “Ooo, that stung…Nice. That’s good…”

He guided his dry cock to the sweat-glistening button. “Here it comes”, he said aloud, and unnecessarily.

As he pushed she fairly howled into the pillow.

Afterward, he walked naked into the kitchen. The taste for a fruity Oregon Pinot Gris-regardless of the mineral complexity-was gone. He found a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue on the sideboard and poured three fingers in a coffee cup from the sink. He drank it slowly, standing there, the granite countertop cool against his hip. Upstairs the tiny porcelain doll snored softly.

He was sure of only one thing. They would have a conversation about Murakami in the morning over coffee or there would be hell to pay.

One response to “Poor Mikey

  1. Pingback: The Maddening Hour | Hot Bottoms

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