“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.

Advertisements

Moments

There is surely nothing other than the single purpose of the moment. A man’s whole life is a succession of moment after moment. If one fully understands the present moment, there is nothing left to do, and nothing else to pursue.” – From Hagakure, by way of Ghost Dog. 

“I seriously can’t think of anyone who’s been together as long as we have taking such little care of their relationship. Seriously. It’s as if we assume that it will always be there-that we will always have it. That we made it and now it’s done, and nothing more is necessary.”

She, having nothing to add, was silent.

“Everything, your plants, the cats, the garden-they are begun then continue and thrive-if attention is paid to them. If they are fed. If not they wither and die. Relationships are the same.”

“Mmmfff…” she said.

“I’m not blaming you, you understand. This is on both of us. It’s as if we’ve made a conscious decision to allow our relationship to-if not die-then stagnate. There is work, there is the gym, there are the clients and the cooking, there is endless busyness…something has to suffer. We allowed it to be us.”

He stepped closer, his body next to hers, and rubbed her firm calves then kissed them gently. One. Then the other. He allowed his tongue to trace a path up her leg to her feet. Up close they looked small-petite even-and soft. He could see the attraction they held for some. He allowed his head to dip and kiss the instep. She made a small sound.

He ran his tongue toward the toes slowly then across the big one. A tiny buzz–not enough to make him hard-surprised him. He could definitely see this! He wished he could kiss her ankle but it was buried deep beneath the padded strap. He allowed his eyes to fall closed and was slipping her toes into his mouth when she jerked and said “Aaachlessshh!”

The spell broken, he pulled away from the shiny wetness he had left on her foot. She yelped again. Sighing, he dropped to a knee and released the gag from her mouth.

“Ticklish!” she spat. “Goddam it! You know I’m ticklish.”

“Sorry”, he said, not sorry. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Jesus-my feet now? Is that was this whole thing was about? Getting to my feet?”

“No, honey…no. It just happened-they’re right here and they look so…”

“Forget it. Not the feet. Too fucking ticklish…”

“Okay, okay”, he said softly trying to bring the mood back. He rubbed down her legs, past her knees and then between them. His finger stroked across the tight folds of her pussy which offered no easy ingress.

“You’re awfully dry…” he said rubbing back and forth.

“I’ve been hanging upside down for a fucking hour Michael! All my blood and no doubt jizz has run to my head! It’s like I’m hearing you from inside a fucking washing machine.”

“Okay. Okay…” he tried to be soothing and cupped her inverted bottom cheeks. The welts were all but gone to the touch.

“Really”, she said. “There is a shelf life to this position.” He didn’t respond. “I mean, are you done…?”

“Oh sure”, he said a trifle dejected. “I guess so”.

He released her hands from the cuffs attached to the belt around her waist. She could then support herself as he lowered her to the floor. She sat with her legs stretched in front of her and waved him off when he came in to unbuckle her ankle straps. She bent to do it herself.

“Gotta say though-felt good hanging there…hips, back…maybe not an hour next time…”

“It wasn’t an hour!” he protested.

She absently rubbed at the weals on the front of her thighs.

“I don’t get the front of the legs thing. Back of the legs-in a caning scenario-I can almost see. This though…” she traced the pink stripes crossing her lap.

“Some people like it there…Some people…”

“Mikey, some people like EVERYTHING. Do we have to try it all? We’re barely into one thing than we’re off to something else. Spanking, paddling, caning, school girl dressing…”

“You like that…”

“Yeah…I…. But then we moved onto something else! Corner time leaves me cold. Boring.”

“We don’t do that anymore.”

She was on the floor stretching languidly almost speaking to herself “…the thermometer can be OK-especially if you’re sitting on the bed beside me. I can get that. But diapering…”

“We never did that! I never….”

“You don’t erase your search history. I figured that was next…Now the ropes…the hanging…the feet…”

“No, the feet was an accident. It just happened…”

“Then the pegging…” She looked up at him. “We got away from that pretty quick didn’t we?”

“That was….”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Like hanging upside down for an hour uncomfortable?”

“It wasn’t an hour”, he pouted.

She didn’t quite shake her head, settling for a crooked smile and sideways glance. Straight legs on the floor she pulled her chin to her knees. “Didn’t feel too bad though. Just went on too long.”

He looked down on her, so comfortable in her nakedness, pulling a leg into her chest and twisting. He felt himself shrinking somehow while looking down on her.

“And what was that shit you were saying about ‘taking care of the relationship’…”

“Just shit I was saying. You know I like to…vocalize.”

“Why don’t you get into the bedroom and get undressed. I’ll show you how to take care of the relationship.”

“This was my time! I called it!”

“You used it.”

“You have to go to the gym…”

“They can miss me tonight. Figured maybe I’d lose a little of the…busyness.” He was stuck for a moment, transfixed in her gaze. “Go on now. I’ll be a minute.”

“Oh geeze”, he said. There was naught to do but turn and slowly follow his thickening cock into the bedroom.