Under His Influence

“They…should be…ohhh…they aren’t really…”

He kept stimulating the tight little buds with one hand, using the other to loosen his tie and unbutton his collar. The silk tie flapped over her stomach when he bent to lick and suck at the now completely pleasure-filled nubs.

“See? It’s good, isn’t

it?”

“How…do you do it?” John’s fingers were crawling down over her belly, finding the little thicket of pubic hair that sheltered her puffy, swollen sex lips.

He lifted his head, lowering it over her face and kissing her with long, ravishing effect before drawling, “I just have the touch, Anna.”

Her clitoris was agreeing with him. He had the touch. She felt slick and sticky with want for him and she raised her hips, opening herself to his thorough investigations.

“Oh, my eager little sweetheart.” John unfastened his trousers, shimmying them off as quickly as he could. “You want it, don’t you? You want it again.”

“Mmm,” she whimpered, grabbing his tie, pulling it right off. “Please.”

“Oh, I can’t resist it when you beg,” he exclaimed, his voice half-delirious with triumph and lust. He kicked off his boxers and mounted her, still in his shirt, but careless of niceties, seeming too pent up with the frustrations of the day to wait until he was naked.

Anna sighed, a long, punctured sigh, as his hard cock slid inside her, firing up every scintilla of sensation along the way. She should be experiencing burning pain with every frictive thrust, but instead it was as if her own flowing juices had healed the rawness with their pleasure-balm. Now she was filled with him, she was whole again, a part of him, him a part of her, where she needed to be. How had she lived so long without knowing what love and sex could be like? Was it like this for everyone? Surely it couldn’t be? Surely only John could unlock her in this way. It was important, she perceived amidst the riot of sensuality and abandon, that she never lose him. She was his, and she had to be his, always.

“You’re mine.” His hot breath poured into her ear, and she was sure that when they were coupled he could read her mind. “Yes, you are. Always.”

Her orgasm tipped her up and flowed into every corner of her. It was like the sleep paralysis, like the bit where her body disconnected from her brain and flipped around the room by an unseen, manipulative force. It was like that, but good.

“Oh!” she said, staring widely into his eyes once he had filled her with his hot essence and was lying shiny-faced and heaving-chested by her side. “Maybe it was you. All those years.”

“Maybe it was me? What? What was me?”

“I get this thing when I’m asleep. Sleep paralysis. It’s always about someone or something in my room, coming to…I don’t know…coming to claim me. I can never see it, but it makes a hissing sound, and it takes over my body, so that it isn’t mine any more. I feel a bit like you, when I…you know. Just at the moment of…climax.”

“Delicately put. You mean that when you come, you feel the way you do in those paralysis dreams? I’m not sure that’s a compliment, Anna.”

“I don’t mean it like that. In the dreams it’s sinister and frightening. But with you, it’s…right. It’s like the dream turned on its head, and made good. And perhaps I was misinterpreting the dream all along. Perhaps it was like a presentiment, or a prediction…of you. Of you coming to…claim me.”

“Claim you? I like that. Like you’ve had a little ticket with my name on around your neck from long before we met.”

“I feel like that. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you.”

“So do I. So much so, in fact… No. I shouldn’t.”

Anna sat up straight. “Shouldn’t what?” John had that sheepish-boy smirk he sometimes wore when he thought he might have gone too far. He turned away, shaking his head rapidly.

“No, it’s too soon. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You haven’t said anything. What, John? What is it too soon for? Please tell me.” Anna, despite her fatigue, began bouncing on the bed, as if the to and fro of the mattress might work as extra cajolery. “I can’t bear secrets! I really can’t. I’m hopeless at keeping them and I get obsessed when I know people have them. Pleeeease tell me. I promise I’ll forget you ever said it afterwards.”

John chuckled, took her hand, stilled the bouncing.

“No, you’ll think I’m mad and run a million miles from me. And that—” He kissed her hand, “—is not allowed.”

“I won’t run. You can tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Can I indeed? Well, I’m not sure I’ve got any, but…”

“You auditioned for Westlife. You’re Lord Lucan. It was you that started the banking crisis off by stealing ten trillion pounds. I knew it. All of it!”

John kissed her hand again, his lips lingering on the knuckles.