Sex and the Stranger

‘Um.’ God, up close he’s beyond gorgeous: all sparkly eyes, dimples and cheeky confidence. Surely I’ve just dreamt up such perfection? ‘I don’t think …’

‘Good. Thinking gets in the way,’ he says, eyes twinkling attractively into mine. ‘What really matters is that the two of us are here … alone.’ He drops his voice and reaches down to pull one of my hands away from my groin. ‘And we both want the same thing.’

His touch is cool and wet and gentle against my skin as he unfurls my clenched fist and raises it to his mouth. Keeping our gazes locked, he closes his lips around the fingers I’d been touching myself with, tasting me with obvious relish.

‘Oh!’ I gasp at the unexpected feel and intensity of the sensation. ‘Oh, Jesus, what’s that?’ Whatever’s going on inside his mouth it’s like a sizzling current charging from the nerve endings in my fingertips directly to my nipples and clit.

Amused by the strength of my reaction, he pulls my fingers free and raises his brows in question. ‘This?’ He sticks his tongue out to show me the silver barbell pierced through its centre. ‘You never had a lover with a tongue bar?’

I shake my head, struck dumb and numb as my imagination runs riot, chasing down all the exquisite possibilities presented by that magical silver ball.

Looking pleased, he leans in close. ‘Then you’re in for some fun.’ His tongue is a brush of warm velvet as it licks the parted seam of my lips and takes advantage of my gasp to slip into my mouth.

The first thing to hit me is the taste of hot-blooded male, potent and intoxicating as dark rum. Next comes the strange new fascination with that tongue bar as the balls tap gently against my teeth, probe the roof of my mouth and glide over my curious tongue. Then, lagging behind in third place, is my conscience.

A small voice of sanity demands to know what the hell I think I’m playing at with this guy. Push him away, it bleats, as his hands move to rest on my tightly clenched thighs. Tell him to get lost, it insists when those hands caress and coax my legs apart. Slap his impudent face and run, comes the desperate cry as he shifts his body into the v-shaped space, bare skin wet and warm where it brushes against mine. Do it now! Before it’s too late!

But swept away by the sensual onslaught of licks and sucks and swirls, I can barely bring myself to hear the thoughts let alone co-ordinate and carry out the actions. As my pool man’s lips leave mine and his attention starts to move south, I know it’s already too late. All I can think about is the devastating potential of that silver ball and how badly I want to feel it on me.

Taking my hands, he positions them palm-down on the rock to either side of my hips, then slides his own palms up the insides of my thighs, pushing my legs wider as he lowers his face between them. This should be where I pull away, where I baulk at sharing my most intimate secrets with a complete stranger. But caught up in the thrill of the unknown, it’s surprisingly easy to remain still and let his fingers split apart the plump lips of my labia, exposing the tender pink flesh hidden inside.

I watch, transfixed and tremulous, as he pauses mere inches from his destination to look his fill and breathe in the ripe scent of my desire. A low hum of pleasure sounds in his throat, and when his gaze finds mine again he smiles and treats me to a wicked flash of his tongue bar. ‘Breathe,’ he reminds me before burying his open mouth between my thighs.

Oh. My. Fucking. Heavens. Wet heat meets wet heat and delicate flesh yields to the uncompromising pressure of that silver ball. What a thing of torturous beauty the contrast is. The intensity is more than I can bear. Lurching forward, both hands fly to push his head away, but my fingers are prised from his scalp with easy strength, my hands guided back behind me and held locked into place. Trapping my squirming legs between arms and ribcage he takes full advantage, flicking that ball against the nub of my clitoris and making me buck and whimper. I come in less than a minute, shuddering from head to toe.

He doesn’t stop after my first orgasm, but rather tightens his grip and ups the ante, sucking hard and fast on my still-throbbing clit then tapping the ball against it to bring a second barrelling on the heels of the first. Holding me open he makes me ride it out until I’m left mewling and swaying.

When I think my body’s been squeezed of every last drop of pleasure, he releases one of my wrists and pushes two fingers deep in the snug channel of my vagina. I can feel how slippery I am in there, can hear my juices squelching around every delving thrust. With curling strokes he finds my G-spot and at the same time flattens his tongue to rub the ball firmly against my over-sensitised flesh. I only realise that my eyes are closed when I see lights flash against the insides of my lids. From a long way off I hear myself begging him to stop even as I grind myself against his mouth and splinter apart for a third time.

Eventually, he raises his head and grins. ‘Told you.’

‘God!’ I rasp in a shaky voice. ‘Do you have a licence for that thing?’

‘No, ma’am. Unfortunately, I don’t have a condom either.’ Rising, he shifts to sit on the rock ledge beside me, splashing a good deal of water about. Reclining back on his elbows, he lets his thighs fall open. ‘So I hope you won’t mind returning the favour?’ He nods to his bobbing, dripping erection that looks fit to burst.

He doesn’t need to ask twice. ‘With pleasure,’ I say, reaching to wrap one fist around the base of his shaft, and leaning over to swallow him straight down. Underlying the surface coating of cool, chlorinated water is the more fundamental taste of hot, horny male.

I might not be able to offer the benefits of a tongue bar, but I’ve never had a problem making good use of the oral attributes I was born with. I set about sampling and probing and savouring the intimate briny tastes of my sexy, sun-shiny surfer boy until every long, lean muscle in his body is trembling with tension.

It’s not long before I feel his shaft pulse and swell against my tongue, and with a curse and jerk his hands are on my head, forcing me up. His cock pops free of the suction of my lips just as creamy strings of semen begin spurting from the head, arching through the air before landing across his clenched thighs and contracted abs.

Gasping, he collapses back onto the rock in a boneless sprawl. ‘Goddam, that was good.’

Gasping, I hide my face in my hands as reality comes crashing back, and with it, shame and doubt. ‘I can’t believe I just did that.’

‘Uh-oh.’ I hear him shift beside me, still huffing and puffing. ‘Guess I didn’t do the job quite right, huh?’

Confused, I risk a peek at him from beneath my fingers. ‘What do you mean?’

He peels my hands aw

ay from my hot face. ‘I mean, you shouldn’t be able to think straight enough to be worrying right now.’ Sliding one hand behind my neck, he slips the other under the hem of my T-shirt. ‘That’s an oversight I’m gonna need to fix.’

Using his weight, he bears me down onto my back, pushing my top up as we go. ‘Now, what’s that term you Brits like to use? Oh, yeah, “just lie back and think of England.”’ He smiles and waggles his tongue piercing at me.

But right now I can’t think of anything except the feel of his mouth closing around my nipple.

Supply and Demand