Just what the doctor ordered….

(Continued from No Bystanders at the Clinic)

Once her panties were gone, Emmie felt the top cords of the gown untied and the garment allowed to fall open. She was surprised that she felt no embarrassment at being completely nude on the table. He oiled her well-a wet warmth that smelled of eucalyptus-and stroked gently at first, concentrating attention to her anatomy between the small of her back and knees.

His touch was soft enough to feel tentative-hesitant. Maddeningly so. As he dug his thumbs into her hamstrings and up toward her glutes she subtly pushed back into his hands. He was about to ask if this was OK, just a whisper of a flashing yellow light if he should stop…but he didn’t because Emmie, choosing to use action rather than words, lifted to give him better access between her legs and pushed toward his probing fingers.

She began to undulate slowly as he caressed the tenderness of her inner thighs higher than anyone had been in a long time. Her mind was nowhere but on his touch-focused on every twinge, zap and charge ignited by his light stroking. She gasped as his finger circled the tiny rosette of her anus. When he ran his finger directly over it, her subtle opening became more wanton and her lift a backward thrust.

“Please Will….” She said.

He slipped his hand higher and rubbed along her swollen folds. The dampness he felt there wasn’t his oils. “I was getting there”, he said.

“So’s Christmas” she whined with a tinge of moan.

He smiled and withdrew his hand only long enough to deliver a fake smack to her bottom which she mewed at then was back between her legs. His finger entered her this time-pushing gently inside then exploring the walls of her tight passage. Emmie had a flash of consciousness then-remembering where she was. She opened her eyes and saw the shadows of the lamp globbing on the wall seemingly keeping time with his finger. She sighed and closed her eyes again, allowing her breathing to synch with his in-and-outs.

Because Emmie was the kind of woman who couldn’t just accept a righteous fingering at face value she had to tamp down her rising lust as Will found her clit-swollen and ready for attention. And yes, he knew where it was all this time but wanted to draw it out; wanted to keep this woman gyrating on the end of his finger for as long as he could. All Emmie could think of, as his electric touches sizzled from her clit to her toes, was that she walked in here fully clothed an hour ago with no thought to do anything but read a magazine.

“Uhhh!” she said quietly-because she never could lose sight of her surroundings even now. “Will…I…”

“Shhh”, he said and she felt a pressure-firm and unrelenting pressing onto her tight asshole-the very spot that served as her START button when the thermometer slid inside.

“Mmmmmm….” Was all she could manage as she relaxed anything that wasn’t already relaxed so that the growing pressure could finally win and his thumb popped open her sphincter and slid inside of her rear without him ever losing the rhythm of his finger rub. It was too much.

He smiled and whispered “Come on…” then “Let go…” as he placed his left hand on the small of her back to guide her movements. She bit her lip and closed her mouth-screaming inside a sound that came out a muffled grunt. He felt her coming and milked her as much as he could until she shivered and flattened on the table. Again, she felt herself spread and cared not a whit.

He kissed her on the bottom then she felt his breath on her neck.

“I think I better write you a prescription for this….”

She smiled and didn’t open her eyes. “Daily?”

“Weekly to start…see what your insurance will cover.”

“I might be willing to pay out of pocket…”

“Give me a kiss”, he said.

She lifted her head and opened her mouth to accept his. With a toe drag he pulled a stool over to sit at eye level. Emmie rolled up on her side exposing new areas to explore and without breaking the long, soft coupling of lips, Will gently caressed the valley between her breasts and down her belly. She dropped her head with a sigh.

“Feel better now?” he asked accepting the smile as an affirmative. He let the silence settle for a moment then, “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing special”, she said remembering a date she would certainly break.

“I’m having people over….sort of a little dinner party. I certainly could use a little help in the kitchen.”

“You want me to come and…cook.”

“Well, I’ll be doing most of that. Smoking a brisket as big as…” he patted her rump.

“You mean it’s a big brisket?”

“It’s a perfect brisket. Come over, spend the day, figure out the sides, the dessert…hey you have a chef’s coat right?”

“Sure, hat…the whole nine yards.”

“Great-bring it, wear it in the kitchen.”

“I’m pretty expensive when I’m in uniform.”

“No pants then…”

She laughed. “So am I coming as kitchen help or your date?”

“Not an either/or…bring something to wear in the evening. Sporty, anything-as long as it involves a really short skirt. And no panties…”

She giggled like a girl “I’m sensing a pattern here.”

In answer he pushed her shoulder with his forehead forcing her over onto her back. Emmie sighed deeply as his soft lips circled, then covered, her hardening nipple. Watching the lamp patterns on the ceiling she started thinking about the perfect sides for brisket.

 

No Bystanders at the Clinic

IMG_1523

 

Continued from A Visit to the Clinic

Emmie Summers wandered the wide hallway at the clinic. The place was certainly bigger than it looked from outside. She almost collided with a pretty red-faced brunette with a nose stud hustling out of an exam room. “Excuse me…” the girl said as she rushed past. Emmie spun to watch her then heard a distinct “Smack” from inside the door-she turned again toward the door but it was closed, then spun back, this time walked fully into a man coming the other way.

“Oof…” She was about eye level with a white embroidered “Will” above the breast pocket of his royal blue lab coat. One look up into his lidded green eyes and Emmie sighed ruefully to herself, “I certainly would…” because she hadn’t in months.

“Can I help you”, asked Will pleasantly.

“I’m sorry…excuse me…I’m here with a friend…just waiting on a friend.” He cocked an eyebrow questioning. “Shannon”, she blurted. “Shannon Deavers.”

“Shannon?” he said seemingly delighted at the news. “We love Shannon!”

“Yeah, she’s the best…”

“Been friends long?”

“Since college.”

“Oh-a year or two then”, he said smiling.

“I wish…” She said, flashing a quick grin that dissipated too quickly.

“You okay?”, he asked looking after the fleeting smile.

She waved her hands to take in everything around her. “Doctors, nurses…all the medical stuff…makes me…”

“White coat syndrome, huh?”

She shrugged.

“But I’m wearing blue”, he flashed his own smile that didn’t go anywhere and took he by the elbow. “Here,” he said opening and leading her through a door. “Let’s step out of the hubbub, bub.”

His office was softly lit from by the light coming through the blinds and soft reddish glow of the…

“Is that a lava lamp?” Emmie asked delightedly.

“Sure is.”

“I haven’t seen one of those since college.”

“Does the same thing for me as an aquarium without the upkeep.”

The desk was in front of the window and a leather examination table, scale, sink all were against one wall.

“Here-sit.” He guided her to a plush leather chair as he leaned against the desk. “Just chill in here for a bit. Shannon’s going to be another thirty or forty minutes…”

“What’s she having done today?”

“You’ll have to ask her that-you know with patient confidentiality and all.”

“Oh Jesus!” she said. “I’m sorry…I didn’t even think…”

“No worries, no worries. We’re just talking here….”

He saw her eyes slide over to the lava lamp and watched the red orbs of wax bloom, float to the top and snap to fall back and repeat. He smiled as she watched. “See? Told you. Bet your blood pressure’s dropped ten percent since to you got here.”

She smiled…”I used to love these things…”

“Hey”, he asked. “Would you like me to do a workup on you? You’re here and all…”

“Ahh…no…that’s….Naw. That’s OK….Ah…I don’t think my insurance will cover it….” she blathered nervously.

“Not to worry-on the house. I’ve had two cancellations this morning…”

“Two?”

“Yeah, right? Sisters. There will be plenty of spankings at the end of the month, I can tell you that” he joked. But was he joking? She remembered the smack from outside that room. “Point is, I have the time. We could do this…or you can sit here and look at the lava lamp for the next half hour.”

She stepped into the changing room that felt more like a country club locker room with maroon walls, soft recessed lighting, redwood bench and a shelf with folded gowns. She watched herself in the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse and placed it on a hanger. Then slipped her sandals off and under the bench and, with a pause for reflection, unsnapped and lowered her capris, likewise hanging them.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She was fine. She was normal for…she wouldn’t even think “for a woman her age.” But truly, she was fine. Normal. Shannon was the freak with her long legs and slim bottom. Emmie turned and looked at her backside. I’m normal, she thought. Fine, she thought yet again. He had said take everything off so she pushed her panties half way down, paused looking over her shoulder and pulled them back up. Panties can stay, she decided. Without a thought she slipped off her bra and stepped into the gown. Her fingers shook as she tied it behind. Idiot, she thought. With a final glance in the mirror she stepped was back into the office where Will was drying his hands.

“Here you go-hop up”.

He managed the basics efficiently. Eyes, ears, nose and throat. Pulse, blood pressure, all good. Reflexes-her knee bounced as she guessed it was supposed to. But there was something else she didn’t expect to feel. There was a little buzz-like an electrical charge-where he held her knee in place.

“Lay back”, he said holding the back of her neck to help her down.

He pushed the gown up over her belly to prod and poke at her abdomen. She was fine with it-wasn’t a washboard but flat enough. He pushed the gown a little higher and she closed her eyes realizing her nipples were hard. If he pushed it one more inch…but he didn’t. Surely though, he had to have noticed.

“What do you do? He asked?”

“I’m a chef.”

“Really? Where do you…hey wait-did you used to cook at Umbria??

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I just remembered having a conversation with Shannon about restaurants once and she said she had a friend who cooked there…Here-roll up on your hip”, he said in a softer tone-as if speaking to someone else in the room. She yielded to the pressure of his hand on her hip and rolled, nestling her head on her elbow.

“I’m not there anymore though. Left about six months ago-freelancing now…”

“Catering?” he asked, then in his side voice, “Lift up please.”

She did, not even registering what he had asked until she felt her underwear slide down completely off her bottom.

“Hey!” she said startled.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“I didn’t realize…”

“I did ask you to strip naked…”

“Yes, OK…just startled me, is all.” She giggled nervously. “You are a doctor, right?”

“That’s what the papers on the wall say.” She felt his hand lift her cheek gently and something slide into her bottom. She hissed through her teeth. “It’s just a thermometer”, he said.

“I haven’t had my temperature taken like this in….”

“Hopefully you don’t remember when…” he said jokingly.

“Feels naughty…”

“Ah, you’re fine” he said with his hand resting collegially on her bare hip. “You’re relaxing already-not clenching. So, catering?”

“Yes…I…” small talk wasn’t coming easily. “…have some steady clients…to cook for. Do some parties. All word of mouth.”

The thermometer pinged and she bit her lip as he slid it out. “All normal”, he said.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Do you want a shot?”

“What kind of shot?”

“Mostly B12. Some other things that are a closely guarded secret. But it’s popular. Since you’re here and all.”

“I don’t like shots.”

“You’ve never gotten a shot from me. You don’t like getting ready for the shot. Getting up on the table, pushing your pants down. But here you are right? Why not?”

“Oh fine,” she said as if she was struggling with a decision.  “Why not?”

He pushed again with his hand on her hip but not really. Lower. She felt that charge again as the softness of her bottom yielded to his warm fingertips. “Here,” he said. “Lie flat”. She did and felt herself spread. Somewhat. A little. Not much. Ah, the hell with it!

She crossed her arms and listened to the sounds of tearing paper and plastic as he readied the syringe. “You okay?” he asked

“I’m fine…”

“Yes. Yes you are”.

“Fresh!” she said, flattered.

“I’m going to squeeze here, OK?” he said patting her ample right cheek.

“OK, but remember, you said it wasn’t going to hurt.”

“Oh, I don’t think I ever said that. Don’t tense…” He gave her bottom four staccato smacks that were over so quickly she barely had time to say “Ouch!” then squeezed a piece of her bottom right in the center. She dug her fingernails into her palms when the needle slipped in with a warm sting. He emptied the syringe and withdrew then rubbed the spot hard with three fingers as if trying to remove a freckle. “There,” he said. “How’s that feel?”

“Warm…..”

“Do you want to try a treatment? A quick cleanse?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that….”

“Well then, let’s pull your panties back up…”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that either.”

“Now who’s being naughty?”

“I’m feeling so warm and…..” she couldn’t find the word.

“Fizzy?”

She laughed lightly and opened her eyes to the red glow of the lava lamp burbles on the wall. “Yeah, that’s it exactly. Fizzy. Is that the shot?”

“No my dear”, he said, his hand on the top of her thigh. “That’s you.”

The hand she felt on herself was warmer than she was. “What is it exactly that you are doing back there?” she asked.

“I’m a licensed massage therapist”, he said to the back of her head.

“Of course you are.”

“Do you want to see my license?” he asked, squeezing gently.

“No”, she said. “I’d rather feel it.”

“Can I get rid of these then?”

He pulled her panties down her thighs and she lifted her legs so he could slide them over her feet. He let them fall to the floor.

To be continued….

A Visit to the Clinic

Angela Miller sat on the edge of the exam table and allowed her dangling bare feet to swing back and forth like a kid. The thin cotton gown covered her to mid-thigh and since she had come to the clinic braless all she had on under it were her panties. And it wasn’t warm in the room. Not at all.

She was about to hop down and look for a thermostat when the door opened and a tallish brunette in blue scrubs stepped through. She looked a little harried, with a couple of locks of hair escaping from a loose pony tail that she wore to the side. She shut the door behind her with a bit of sigh and took an exaggerated deep breath. “Whew”, she said smiling then looked at the folder in her arms.

“Hi. Angela?”

“Angie.”

“Great, Hi…umm…I’m…Jessica. Just doing your intake-vitals, etcetera…” She was stumbling, seemingly unable to get the words out in the right order. Or remember her goddam name apparently! All she could think was “Those eyes!” as she was almost pinned to the door by Angie’s arresting robin’s egg blue eyes.

“No, good,” said Angie smiling and cocking her head to one side like a curious puppy. Of course the teeth were perfect and white as copy paper.

Angie put Jessica around thirty or so-about five years older than she was. She was slim and pretty with an unexpected silver stud in her left nostril. She seemed a little nervous; maybe she was new. Angie relaxed in the casual intimacy of the exam room -feeling Jessica’s thigh against hers and her breath on her neck as she took her pulse and wrapped the blood pressure sleeve around her arm. At least her hands were warm!

“What are you wearing?” Jessica asked as she wrote numbers on her chart. “The scent…”

“Oh, you like it? A friend of mine actually makes it…”

“Really?”

“Yeah-mixes all the oils and everything…quite an operation.”

“Smells amazing…”

“I love it. She calls it…Blue Steam, I think. Or something like that…If she hasn’t changed the name already. She goes back and forth.”

“It’s lovely…”

“Thanks…” Jessica asked a few more rote questions and made notes.

“You been here long?” Angie asked.

“A few months….”

“You like it?”

“Doctor Greene is amazing-I’m learning a lot from her.”

“She’s great…”

Jessica set the folder aside and flashed a slightly pained embarrassed smile. “If you don’t mind…flopping over onto your belly? She insists on core temperature.”

“Core?”

“Rectal”, Jessica answered, the pained smile getting tighter.

“Oh-yes, sure. Sorry”, said Angie. “I’ve been here before…Didn’t recognize the term” She slid over and reclined on her side for a moment before rolling over. She lifted slightly and arranged herself and the gown then settled.

“Thank you”, Jessica said relieved. “Some people make this so awkward…”

The cords on the gown kept it from sliding completely open in back but weren’t tight enough to keep her well rounded bottom from blooming through the gap.

“She started calling it ‘core’ because ‘rectal’ freaked people out.”

“I’m not shy”, said Angie situating herself, settling her head on crossed arms. “It’s only a bum, right?”

“Right”, said Jessica with a nervous laugh. Why was she nervous? She’d been doing this every day for the past three months. There was a pause before she realized that Angie wasn’t going to reach back and push her panties down like most people. Instead she lifted her hips a tad. “Would you do the honors?” she asked back over her shoulder, her face obscured by a cascade of honey blonde hair.

“Of course, sure”. Jessica quickly, carefully, and as clinically as possible, pulled the panties down to the tops of the woman’s thighs. No further than absolutely necessary but far enough to expose the roundest, firmest bottom that she had ever seen. And she’d seen plenty. Then, with a practiced hand, she used her thumb and index finger to open Angie’s cheeks and insert the pre-lubed tube into her tiny brown button. When she released the cheeks they closed firmly around the trim tube.

“Mmmm…” said Angie. “Tickles…”

Some patients were chatty to cover their nerves, some silent-squeezing their cheeks and powering through embarrassment. Jessica would be chatty or silent-whatever the situation called for. She would usually catch up on notes or look anywhere else around the room. But what she couldn’t do right now was look away. She had never seen…she gazed down at Angie’s perfectly rounded bottom as if into a crystal ball.

“You spend a lot of time at the gym, don’t you?”

“A ton! Why….?”

“Your bottom, girl…” Jessica couldn’t believe she was saying it as she said it.

“Hah…yeah. I had a boyfriend once that called it the most spankable ass in the state.”

“Did he?”

“What?”

“Spank…it…er…you. Spank you?”

“Naw, not really. He never could figure out how that would work. A slap now and again…he was dense…”

“Must have been”, Jessica mused in a soft voice.

“That’s nice…” Angie said.

“What?”

“Your hand.”

Without realizing it Jessica had, during their exchange, rested her hand on the small of Angie’s back.

“Oh god! I’m sorry…” she almost pulled it away but didn’t. The nervousness that she had felt earlier had slipped from her chest and settled lower. Much lower and it wasn’t really nerves anymore. She was transfixed by the view and fought to control her hands.

“You can touch it if you want”, the words came muffled from under the tumble of hair as if Angie was reading her mind.

“What…?”

“My bum…if you want.”

Angie’s eyes were closed and she was breathing lightly. There was no response coming from behind then the thermometer pinged to tell them it was done. She bit her lip lightly feeling herself being spread again and the instrument withdrawn.

A trifle chastened that her offer had not been accepted, she was about to reach back and pull up her panties when Jessica said “Hmmm…that’s odd. It didn’t take.” Then she felt her cheeks parted again and the tube slipped back into place. Slower this time. She held her breath until a hand, warm and dry, cupped her right cheek. And squeezed lightly.

“Ahhh…” Angie sighed and lifted her bottom slightly into the hand.

“My god, girl….this is…” her voice caught as her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Good lord….” She kneaded the right cheek then slid-not rising, not losing contact, but slid-across the deep crease from right to left and squeezed there. Then the other hand came into play to fondle the bottom of her cheeks and slide the panties a little further down. As the tingling in her crotch intensified, Jessica knew there was nothing that could stop her from kissing the lovely globes she had under hand and was lowering her face bumward when the door to the examining room opened with a simultaneous knock that really served no purpose.

“Dr. Greene!” Jessica gasped, caught with two handfuls of Angie Miller’s naked bottom.

“Hi Stephanie!” said Angie brightly, looking up and shaking the hair from her face.

Doctor or not, Stephanie Greene was a striking woman sliding into middle age with a style and panache that couldn’t be faked. She wore an above the knee electric blue skirt and a dark blouse that only a shade or two lighter than her shoulder length raven hair. She stepped into the room from where she had paused to take in the scene and closed the door behind her.

“May I ask…?” she began.

“I had a cramp”, Angie was quick to explain. “It just tightened up. Too much glutes at the gym this morning….Jessica is a gifted masseuse.”

“Uh huh…” said Stephanie, her eyes not buying it. “Jessica?”

“She was….really tight…” she muttered.

“OK…whatever. No time. Jessica, I’ll deal with you later”.

“Yes, Doctor”, she said gathering the folder and taking a step toward the door red-faced.

“Jessica?” Dr. Greene gave her a look and Jessica followed her eyes to Angie’s bottom where the thermometer still stood erectly in place like a little flag pole.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I’ll…” she stepped toward the table but was waved off.

“I’ll take care of it. Go.”

She hustled out the door and Dr. Greene with a quick wrist movement extracted the thermometer and dropped it in the basin. She then raised a hand and delivered a none-too-gentle smack to Angie’s upturned cheek. “You are such a brat”, she said.

“Don’t be too hard on her….she didn’t stand a chance.”

“Pull your panties up-let’s talk.”

Swordplay

sword

Not mine. Found on Tumblr

(Continued from “A little anisette, please…” Part ll)

From the house, the land rolled in fits and starts down to the lake. He wasn’t a lawn guy-the expanse of native grasses, shrubs and trees were gloriously if meticulously, untended creating small thickets and copses around seemingly randomly placed boulders. About half way down was a natural flat spot that he had manicured carefully. The surface, firmly tamped with tightly mowed grass looked like nothing so much as a putting green minus the hole and flag.

It was here that she practiced her form. She had left her wooden sword on the rack at the top of the clearing, and instead used her tournament weapon-the polished steel glinting in the sun. She wore loose fitting black pants cinched tight at the waist and a black tank top that showcased her strong shoulders and sinewy arms glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. Her long hair-tightly bound in a thick braid-flowed over her shoulders and around her neck.

She was getting better, he could see that. Her form, though by no means artful, was practiced enough to have risen to a level of proficiency that would move her easily through the next one or two belt levels. Whenever she chose another teacher, that is. Given their situation he could not continue in that capacity.

She parried, she spun, she thrusted and slashed as he ticked off under his breath the Chinese names of each move. The good ones, the truly good ones, could feel in a 100 or 200 movement form what was coming next, then next and could see all of the movements as a single tapestry winding uninterrupted from beginning to end. Her form was a series of index cards, each standing alone with no seeming through line to the next. To the unschooled she was a goddess and possibly deadly. To him, she was competent enough with proficiency hard won through rote and dogged repetition. There was no shame in that, but the dawning realization that she didn’t have the intuitive gift that she thought she did was driving her a tad batty.

Which was probably why she always wanted to fight.

He strode out of the shadows of the sycamores and past the leather heavy bag to where she could see him. She stopped her form and bowed. Not to him, but to the school. He had learned that-when entering or leaving a school to bow in respect. But in his practice, all of outdoors was his school, so out here people were bowing all the time.

“I saw you”, she said.

“I hope so.”

“What did you think?”

“Not bad”, he gave his usual. “You could get lower in ‘snatching the serpent at the water’s edge’”, he said in English as she didn’t-and seemingly would never-know the Chinese.

“I felt that…happens when I rush.”

“And why were you rushing….?”

Instead of answering she walked over to the rack and sheathed her sword after slowing wiping it down. He followed.

“We can work that sequence if you like…” he offered.

She picked her wooden sword from its spot.

“Maybe later”, she said twirling her sword and meeting his eyes before pacing away.

He didn’t smile, afraid it would be condescending-she wasn’t smiling. “Maybe”, he said. “Same stakes?”

“As always”, she said bowing to him.

She came at him tentatively-slashing toward his sword arm before spinning and thrusting directly. He knew that was coming-but rather than countering-was content to block it with a “CLACK” of wood on wood and spin past delivering a light but effective elbow to her head on the way.

“There are more weapons in a fight than swords”, he said.

She shook it off and lunged carelessly but with surprising speed. He blocked, then parried, then slid away from her sword side. The trick was to not let her know he was toying with her; to allow her attacks, to seem surprised, then to recover at the last moment.

When he pressed, she responded well, parrying in flight but was sloppy in transition. When she stepped aside and meant to spin her toes caught in the grass and she was exposed from behind. Rather than delivering a killing blow he pulled back his weapon and delivered a hard swat with the flat of his sword to her backside.

“OWW!” she cried hopping out of harm’s way and grabbing her bottom with her free hand. “Owww, Dammit”, she grumbled kneading her paddled cheek.

“A glancing blow”, he said. “Not a killing one. You can continue.”

“It should have been a winning blow. You opted to swat my ass instead.”

“What’s a little swat between friends?” He lifted his sword. “Ready?”

“No.” She dropped the point of her sword. “I’m beaten.”

“As you will”, he said, lowering his own sword. He took hers and carried them both over to the rack while she lifted the heavy bag from the hook where it hung. She managed the 80 pound bag easily, flopping it onto the grass.

“You were better today”, he offered.

“Not good enough, though…” she answered untying the waist strap of her pants.

“Not to beat me…but better than last time…”

He allowed himself to watch her strip-to slip her pants down then step out of them, right leg, left leg admiring the muscles of her quads rippling as she balanced. Her tank-top followed allowing her small firm breasts to enjoy the light of day.

She turned away from him to face the lake and the bag on the ground before slipping her thumbs into the waistband of her black silk panties and rolling them down, then off. A bright scarlet smudge on her right cheek colored the otherwise milky white globes of her bottom.

Without looking back she knelt in the grass then paused before laying over the bag positioning her bottom uppermost. Her nerve endings hummed-vividly imprinting everything in her unconscious. Every blade of cool grass on her cheek as the heady aroma filled her nostrils and tickled her lips. She felt him spread her behind and heard him spit. Then felt his wet fingers lubricating her tight bottom. She took a breath then exhaled slowly, eyes wide open as she felt the burn of him entering her. His thrust was slow and steady, relentless and ever burning as she stretched open for him.

Closing around his cock like a warm satin glove she watched a man and a woman in a small sailboat obliviously tacking into the breeze toward them.

“A little anisette, please…” Part ll

(Continued from “A little anisette, please…”)

The glowing wafer of moon slipped thinly into the chalice of the hills.

“I am not worthy to receive you…” the long forgotten words clattered across his memory like a broken strand of pearls. “…but only say the words….” He was startled to hear himself speaking aloud and bit his lips too late. The sweeping sound of her breathing was gone-leaving a silent void. He inhaled deeply as if to smell whether he had awakened her.

She was on her side so when he looked down he saw only her right eye glowing back at him. Her lips, always full, seemed swollen. He bent to them and kissed her. Gently. Dryly. She returned his kiss over her shoulder then, like a cat, pushed her haunches still wrapped in sheets back into him.

“You are definitely not worthy”, she said huskily-her voice full of sleep.

“Of anything.”

“Release my legs”, she told him.

“I don’t want to hurt you now…” he said quietly. Last night was last night. This was a new day.

“Release my legs”.

The knots melted in his fingers. A lifetime on the lake, sailing, boating and fishing made ropes and knots his superpower. Before she could imagine how she was bound, she was free. Still on her side she pulled her right knee up then, when he uncovered her, lifted her top leg toward the ceiling, opening and still pushing backward. From another woman this would have been an invitation. From her, it was a summons.

Hard since he’d walked into the room he held back and grasped her ankle, then slid his hand down the muscles of her leg-pausing to outline the panther on her thigh. It rippled across her quad and roared up the inside of her thigh directing with white teeth and a blood-red tongue where he should go next.

“Do you want your hands?” he asked.

“No”. She kept them, still bound, clutched at her throat like a child curling her loose hair around her long slim fingers.

He settled on his side poking like a blind dog against her still bruised bottom cheeks. She rolled slightly and pushed backward further. Even in the dim, dawn light she glistened as he slid inside-never surprised by how wet she was. She gasped, taking him all at once as he grunted-forcing himself all the way inside with a loud slap of flesh.

She answered his grunt and caught the wave of his thrusts, digging backward as he pushed forward. They quickened the pace and he held her leg high gripping the firm muscles and feeling the quiver coming from up top. She probably would have preferred to hold her leg up herself just with the core strength she never tired of yakking about but he just wanted a fucking handle. He grabbed her ass and kneaded.

Whatever didn’t work between them, this surely did. This always did. He listened for the breathing again; this time the quick gasping that signaled….here it came. As the bed creaked and rolled, he pushed-pushed-pushed thrust-thrust-quickening his pace-slapslapslap skin on skin until her gasping became a moan then a bark then a cry as she slammed her leg down like a guillotine holding him in place as he, with a last firm jam spewed his shuddering heat deep into her.

As they deflated, dissipated, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as if wanting to contact as much of her skin as possible. He slid out of her and rested until he heard the telltale whispering of her wheezing. He allowed himself to be lulled to the edge of darkness before he roused and pulled gently away.

Without touching her he leaned over and untied the ropes on her wrists but she reacted not at all, lying as if in prayer. He retrieved the knife and put it on the bed stand then, reluctant to leave, kissed her shoulder, her back and ran is tongue along the salt of her hip. When he felt himself begin to swell, he rose and pulled the sheet up to her neck leaving her exactly as he’d found her. He left the door ajar.

Later with the morning sun high over the ridge she, still damp from the shower and clear-eyed as a child, joined him at the kitchen table. The silk robe parted as she gingerly sat affording him an easy view of her small, firm breasts. “Good Morning Glory”, he said mocking. She gifted him a half smile.

“I trust you welcomed the sun”, she said seeing that the sweat from his sunrise workout was already dried on his shirt.

“Someone had to do it” he said pushing away from the table. “Coffee?”

“Christ, yes.”

“Cream?”

“A little anisette, please.” He took the clear liquor from the sideboard and poured thickly closing his eyes to the sweet licorice scent filling the room. He placed the cup before her and kissed her on the top of her head and slid his hand inside her robe. “Always nice to have the girls for coffee”.

“Will you join me for sword later?” she asked ignoring his hand.

“Technical or Kumite?”

“I want to fight.”

He stepped back and regarded her carefully. She was talking into her coffee giving him nothing.

“Wood”, he said firmly. Their steel tournament swords weren’t razor sharp but carried enough of an edge to do damage. He would only fight her using the wooden swords. They had a way to make that interesting.

“Fine”, she said looking up. Her eyes had a sparkle rather than a gleam. Which was good. “Eleven?”

“Eleven it is”, he said. “Now drink your coffee.”

She blew on it and sipped.

“A little anisette, please…”

Moon Fall

He awoke slowly; grudgingly. The new pills not only kept him asleep through the night-or at least more of the night than he was used to-but made waking a slow, weighted swim up from of the bottom of a deep pool. It was a chore that he deferred most mornings. He allowed himself a few minutes gazing at the ridge line until he could just make out the bare limbs and branches etched against the graying sky.

He rose and stretched-hands high-counting the pops in his spine as he bent this way, then that.  Then listened to the cracks in his ankles as he walked, squinting to unlock the bedroom door in the darkness. An unnecessary precaution as it turned out but one he felt he had to take.

He padded across the hall and paused at the slightly open door to the front room-just as he’d left it. Her deep regular breathing was the only sound on the floor. He slipped the door open wide enough to enter. This side of the house fronted the lake and the light of the dawn moon falling over the far hills pointed a silver sword their way across the water. He watched the flickering light crawling directly at him and fell under the spell of her breathing.

He allowed himself to be borne away by her rhythm, inhaling deeply with her and exhaling as she did. Not being asleep, the exercise left him feeling winded-in need of quick swallows of air. The room carried the sweet aroma of his grandmother’s bread dough rising in her tiny kitchen-a heady mix of sleep, damp heat and last night’s lovemaking.

He approached the bed where she was on her side sunken deeply into the old mattress the sheet around her shoulders. He checked the knots around her ankles and gently slipped a finger between the bonds and her skin. Secure and not too tight. He then pulled back the sheet to check her wrists, bound before her as if in prayer. Her breath feathered the back of his hands. The rope securing her wrists to her ankles was likewise fast.

And lastly, the knife. His own deer knife, a nine inch blade sharp enough to shave, cut and gut. Happily, it was safely sheathed within her easy reach. His suggestion was to bind her lightly so she could easily release herself if necessary during the night. She instead wanted to be bound tightly, with the knife as her out card.

He knew she was mad from the first. But the first was so long ago that the knowledge did him no good now.

“However…” Part III

Continued from “However…” Part II

”I can stop the spanking now”, said Taylor allowing her fingers to slide deeper between Dana’s legs. “You’ve been adequately punished for your tardiness. But I could…” she went on after a moment, “…do something to make you feel a little….better?” As she said that she drew her hand up into the dampening space as Dana lifted her bottom into her hand. “Yes, please…” she moaned.

As she lifted her tingling bottom higher so that the woman’s determined finger could get more deeply…deeply into her, Dana took a moment to reflect. This morning, Taylor Grayling was a well-paying fitness client and maybe friend. No, not really friend-it was a business relationship; she was a client. A client whose fingers felt so good up inside of her right now. “Eeep”, she gasped as she felt that finger swirl around the outside and slide gently and wetly back in.

This morning Dana had awakened somewhere in the eighth barren month without a lover. The only thing in those months that had been up inside her like this were on the ends or her hands or was blue and battery-operated. This she liked better. Oh, yeah, and this morning she had awakened having not had sex with a woman in ten years-and that was freshman year and the story went she was drunk and didn’t really know…or remember…or…whatever. It was her story, she’d stuck with this this long. But now?

“Come on. Up”, said Taylor slapping her lightly on the bum.

“Oh Nooo…”

“Come on…Let’s go.”

Dana arose unsteadily and allowed herself to be pushed toward the door that led into the house, down a short hallway and up a flight of stairs toward a little used wing of the large house. “Go! Go! Go!” Taylor hurried her from behind lightly smacking her on the bottom every step of the way.

At the top, Dana allowed herself to be guided into a bedroom that she registered had been prepared. Dark curtains kept out the late morning sunlight, replaced by the bright flicker from dozens of candles. The soft sound of surf emanated from…everywhere as did the vague scent of eucalyptus. Inside Taylor kicked the door closed and turned her trainer to face her.

Taylor’s eyes weren’t exactly predatory-not exactly-but wide and wanton, glowing brightly in the candlelight. “Off with this!” she yanked at Dana’s T-shirt which she slipped over her head followed by her sports bra which released her small, perfectly formed breasts to immediately be set upon by Taylor’s mouth.  The older woman was hungry for this but gentle in her roughness-relying on every sound or twitch to direct her next move. Which in this case was forward as she pushed the now naked Dana slowly backward pinning her to the bed. She stopped and looked up, meeting Dana’s eyes.

“Who the fuck are you Taylor…?”

She smiled slyly and continued pushing her backward until Dana sat on the bed then further until she was prone but keeping her face close. “I’m the woman who’s going to put her face between your legs and her tongue in your pussy until you scream.”

“Nice to meet you, then.”

With that, Taylor slid down Dana’s tight body, pausing to nibble at her taut nipples, before leaving a glistening trail down her belly and finally to the wiry blond patch at the bottom. She paused just long enough to slide her hands across Dana’s bottom then below her legs pulling them up and out. Dana reached down and patted her lover’s hands before replacing them on the backs of her thighs and pulling her legs to her chest.

Taylor’s tongue knew well what to do with the wide open invitation. It played at the inside of Dana’s thighs then around the wet folds of her vulva-probing deeper with every revolution. “Ack!” Dana coughed as it flicked lightly at her asshole.

“Like that?” Taylor asked…

“Love that….”

There was no more talking as Taylor bent in earnest to her work. At this moment she wanted nothing more than to make love to Dana the best way she could; to give her the kind of experience that would make her want more. As she widened the wet opening with her fingers and orally massaged her throbbing clit, her nostrils, filled with the scent of Dana’s soap, now flared with the dizzying aroma of her longing, pulsing in the waves of her flowing liquor. It didn’t take long before Taylor heard the moans coming from above morph into the screams she had prophesied. She licked feverishly until Dana’s body-hard as carved pine in the throes of orgasm-relaxed and then collapsed back onto the bed. She allowed her legs to drape gently across Taylor’s shoulders.

Still dressed for the gym, Taylor untangled herself and stood. Dana, spent to the edge of weeping, rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up.

“You OK?” Taylor asked softly, leaning close.

“I don’t care what Lynette says about her paddle. I’m coming late next week…”

By the time Taylor could pat her warm bottom and kiss her gently on the temple, Dana was asleep.