I rolled off him and stretched out like that same proverbial cat, arms over my head, toes pointed, separating my vertebrae and popping my shoulders. Smug? Who me?
I felt his finger tracing my body slowly: down from the collarbone, between my breasts and under and round each one in a figure of eight, back over a nipple, pausing to rub around and over, trailing back to the other, around and over. His finger was soft but quite wide. He had a man's hands - strong and, apparently, capable, if I was to judge from the warmth I was feeling in my crotch.
I opened my eyes to look up at him as he continued his tracing. His touch was assured and his eyes gleamed with what I can only describe as mischief. It was slightly worrying but hugely exciting at the same time. He was lying on his side, his head propped on his hand. "Pretty satisfied with yourself, eh?" he enquired, starting to concentrate more specifically on my nipples and bringing his thumb into play. I laughed, "It certainly was a lot of fun. You didn't enjoy it?" He didn't rise to my provocation but carried on calmly looking at me and gently rolling the nubs of my tits. I turned on my side to face him.
"You're a naughty girl," he began again. "I know," I replied smugly. "Say it," he commanded, his eyes glinting. "I'm a naughty girl, " I giggled. "This is no laughing matter," he said with mock severity pulling so hard on my nipple it made me gasp. "Say it again." "I'm a naughty girl," I tried again, attempting to look subdued. "A very naughty girl - say it." "A very naughty girl," I repeated, pouting slightly. "And you know what that means, don't you?" I didn't, but I was definitely looking forward to finding out. I shook my head for dramatic effect. "I'm going to have to punish you - severely." The last word was accompanied by a hard pull on my nipple, making me gasp again and my pussy contract, wetting the tops of my thighs. He let go of my tit and reached his hand over to spank my bottom hard. I wasn't expecting it and I let out a cry.
He pushed himself up and climbed over me off the bed. I rubbed my ass where he'd slapped me and propped myself on my elbows to see what he was doing. He was picking my stockings up from the floor where I'd shed them on my earlier trip to the bathroom. This was looking interesting, but I hoped he didn't ladder them; they'd cost me 25 bucks!
Throwing his leg back over me, he put his hands under my buttocks and shifted me more to the centre of the bed. Then he took one of my stockings, stretched it out showily between his hands and tied it around my wrist. He pushed my hand above my head, then got off the bed pulling on the other end of the stocking. I turned my head to watch him, wondering to what he was going to tie the other end - hotel bedrooms are disappointingly ill-equipped for this sort of thing. He'd obviously cased the joint properly though, and knotted the other end of my stocking around the knob of the bedside table drawer.
Back on the bed, he repeated the show: stretch out the stocking, knot it round the wrist, raise the arm above the head, tie the stocking to the drawer knob. I watched him, pulling my lower lip between my teeth, feeling my insides contract. He frowned at me, (I loved that crease in the centre of his forehead), "And now I'm going to punish you... and make you scream."
Yes! I wanted to shout. Yes! Please! But I reckoned it would spoil the moment. And then I remembered. Taking my cue from Brer Rabbit, I implored him, "Please sir! Whatever you do, please don't use the ice cubes!" He raised his eyebrows and was obviously trying not to grin. "Maybe I should get you nice and hot and eat you!" (Yes! Excellent!) "Do whatever you please! Only please don't use the ice cubes!" Still frowning at me, he eased backwards off the bed and turned towards the minibar. My inner thighs and bush were soaked with my thick juices by now. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
I felt his hand caress my inner thigh from my knee upwards, gently pushing first one leg aside, then the other - not too far, just comfortably. Then his wide fingers gently splayed my outer lips, caressing my clitoris gently, in passing. The sudden chill of the ice cube on my clit almost made me cum immediately. I moaned loudly as he stroked the cube round and round my womanhood, the melted water running down inside me, mingling with my juices. My buttocks clenched as my pussy walls did, and I felt that little black hole of intense energy build near my cervix. The muscles in my stomach and torso began to contract and I could hardly breathe. "Scream for me!" he shouted, and I did. "Aaghoooh!" as my body shuddered and what seemed like a waterfall spilled out of me onto the sheets.
There was a slight pause as I lay there panting, and I assumed the first ice cube had melted as I felt something harder and colder pushing into the resistance of my still-contracted vagina, its surface melting on contact with the heat of my pussy and its juices. The chill relaxed my muscles allowing the cube to rub against my g-spot. I moaned again and again, my muscles pushing the rapidly-melting ice out and his finger pushing it back in. Like a snowball in hell, the ice cube stood no chance.
But there was no pause before a second one popped into me. Ah! An organised man! That in itself was a turn-on. The sensation of cold on my burning hot nerve endings was phenomenal. I felt myself clench again, sucking the ice cube inside me, gasping from the deliciousness of chill and heat mixing, and then something else - what? His finger, two fingers I think, sliding in and out of me, and oh God! I'm sure that was his tongue getting in on the action too. Yes! And now his tongue was on my clitoris, his fingers rubbing just inside my pussy, now deeper, now back on my g-spot, stroking so artfully, deeper again, now shallower, and sucking my clit. Oh God! I could hear the squelching of my juices as his fingers stroked in and out of me. I wanted to grab something: my hair, my tits, the sheets, but I couldn't because my hands were tied. Oh God! My vaginal walls were expanding, his fingers upped tempo, he sucked my clit harder. Oh God! Oh God! I was going to cum again! My stomach muscles contracted. "OOOOOH!" I screamed and squirted into his mouth.
His hands were under my ass, raising me up to his mouth. He was lapping me up, his tongue all over my clitoris and inner lips, inside me now, sucking me, drinking me as I came again and - Oh sweet Jesus! - again, clamping my thighs to the side of his head. My body was shaking uncontrollably and I was sure I was laddering my bloody stockings, but he kept on going, his nose pushing against my clit, his tongue and lips guzzling me. One more orgasm, smaller this time, made me moan as if I was losing all the breath in my body. The French call it "la petite mort" - the little death - and God, I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven.
I opened my eyes to see him lowering himself on top of me. His cock was proud once again but I wasn't sure if I could take it right now. I was feeling so light-headed, so completely drained. But he untied my wrists, kissing me deeply so I tasted my own sweet juices, gently stroking my body as I calmed and regained my senses. "I'm so glad I let you talk me into this," he whispered. "That was just... mind-blowing," I whispered back, "thankyou, thankyou."
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lennythelion
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