It hadn't gone well, Darla thought, as she leafed through an old magazine. She
shifted position, took her shoes off, and curled her feet up comfortably
beneath her on the couch. Across the room, Michael was still typing away.
They'd been working together quite well on the book, and then he'd had one of
his sudden fits of inspiration and had shooed her away, irritably, because he
didn't want her "looking over his shoulder." As if he hadn't looked over mine
enough, she thought. And leaned on it at the same time. I wish we could get an
office with two desks, two typewriters, and a brick wall between them! With a
sigh, she picked up another magazine and slid farther down into the cushions
that covered Michael's couch.
She'd just begun reading a fascinating article on archaeological discoveries at
Tell-el-Amarna when Michael spoke. "Look, it's getting late, and I have a lot
of things to do in the morning. Time for you to go home."
Darla closed her eyes for a moment. All right, she thought, if that's the way
you want it... She reached down, slipped on her shoes again, tossed the
magazine on the table and got up to go. Her portfolio and purse and all her
papers had been left on the table by the door, and she turned that way,
unwilling to look at Michael. Sometimes, she thought, I wish you hadn't talked
me into this so-called collaboration. I wish you hadn't insisted that we both
work here at your place. I wish you hadn't...
He came into her field of vision, surprising her out of her train of thought.
He stood there in the light reflected from the desk, shirt gone, tenuous smile
on his face. If you really wanted me to leave, she thought, why did you take
off your shirt? A smile replaced the sullen expression on her face.
"Gee, Michael, I've seen that half of you before. Why don't you take the rest
of it off?"
He looked down at himself as if to say, who, me? "Ladies first," he said. "Or
is it, you show me yours and then I'll show you mine?" His tone of voice was
light, slightly sarcastic. "I'm just getting ready for bed here."
Hmmm, thought Darla, I bet he thinks that'll get rid of me. By all rights, it
should, but I'm tired of doing everything his way. "All right," she said
softly, and without another word, she quickly unsnapped her jeans, unzipped
them, let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. "Like this?"
Dead silence in the room for a moment. Then Michael said, "Now wait a minute,
put those back on. That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"No, Michael, I don't know it. I just did as you asked. We're not playing this
game by your rules any more. You started it, and this time you're going to have
to finish it."
Surprised at her own sudden courage, she slipped out of the large, loose
over shirt she wore, and dropped that to the floor as well. Clad only in a light
pink tank-top and matching panties, she stepped out of her shoes and walked
closer to him. He retreated. Her eyes were fixed on his. She smiled. Moving
close to him, she lightly brushed her fingertips through the soft hair on his
chest. He gasped, and held her hand still in his own. She reached up with her
other hand, and now held his hand in a warm embrace.
"Come on, Michael," she said, pulling him in the direction of his bedroom. For
a moment, he resisted.
"No," he said, "we can't do this. Let's stop it now before things get out of
hand."
"They're already well in hand, Michael, and you come with me now."
"No," he said.
"Yes," she said, and pulled him along by the hand. He tried to pull away from
her, but not with any real strength, and then he followed.
She led him into the bedroom, over to the bed, then turned. "Lie down here,
Michael, and I'll help you take the rest of those clothes off."
"I've been dressing and undressing myself for a few weeks now, you know," he
replied, sarcastically.
"All right then, you do it. I have some things to do here."
She turned and walked away from him, opening the doors to his closet. She
didn't look back at him. After a moment, soft sounds indicated that he was
undressing. She found his tie rack at the back of the closet and looked it
over. Hmm, which ones look the softest, the most worn? Which ones will cost
least for me to have sent to the cleaners, she wondered with a smile. I'm glad
he has to wear suits to work -- this is a nice large collection. Sorting
through the colorful array, she selected four that looked a bit frayed around
the edges. Holding the ties in her hand, she folded the closet doors shut.
Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his socks. He was still
wearing a pair of light blue cotton bikini briefs. It was obvious that the
situation was beginning to excite him. She went to the light-dimmer on the wall
and reduced the illumination in the room to a soft glow.
"Lie down, Michael."
"No."
She walked over to him, ties dangling from her hand, and put the other on his
shoulder. Her nipples had hardened under the thin tank top, and she stood with
legs slightly apart. She looked directly into his eyes.
"Yes," she said.
Silently, he lay back across the bed, his feet still on the floor.
"No, Michael, lie properly on the bed for me."
He shifted position, bringing his feet up on the bed. She sat down beside him
and took his left hand in hers. She brought it up to her mouth and traced the
fingertips with her tongue. He shivered slightly. She gently opened his hand
and kissed the palm. Then, she took one of the ties and tied it gently but
firmly around his wrist. He watched her, but made no move. Kissing his palm
again, then biting him very softly on the soft mound of flesh beneath his
thumb, she laid his hand down on the bed and tied the other end of the tie to
the bedpost. Then, she took both hands and caressed his arm, softly, all the
way down to his shoulder, past it, over his nipple and down his side. He
wiggled and gasped, but made no other sound. She got up, taking the rest of the
ties with her, and walked around the end of the bed to the other side. His eyes
followed her outline in the dimly lit bedroom. She sat down beside him on the
other side, and traced his cheek lightly with her hand, then brushed his hair
back, allowing her fingers to slip down and circle his ear, very gently. He
turned his head to the side, trapping her hand between his ear and his
shoulder. She smiled. Picking up his right hand, she traced the lines on the
palm with a gentle finger, then her tongue. She took each of his fingers in
turn into her mouth and sucked on them gently. She looked down at him, saw the
very light film of sweat on his chest, and smiled. Then, she tied the tie
gently around his wrist, put his hand on the bed, and tied the other end to the
bedpost. Then, again, she took both hands and caressed his arm, all the way
down, over the shoulder, onto his chest, circling his nipple with gentle but
insistent fingertips. He wriggled, pulling against the ties, but they held him
in a firm grip of their own. Her hands continued down his chest, over his
belly, making the skin flutter, down his sides, down his right leg. Making
circles with her fingertips, she shifted her position on the bed, caressed his
leg, down to his ankle, then onto his foot. Being careful not to tickle him,
she massaged the foot. Then, she took another tie, tied it firmly around his
ankle, stood up, pulled his leg out a bit, and tied the tie to the footboard.
Then she got up, moved back around to the other side of the bed, and looked
down at him. This time, she remained standing, running the backs of her
fingernails slowly, gently, down his leg, beginning at the thigh, reaching the
ankle in slow degrees. She picked up his foot and quickly tied it to the bed.
Her own breathing was coming more rapidly now.
"My goodness, Michael, you didn't get completely undressed. I wonder what we'll
have to do about that?" She looked at the large bulge under the briefs and
smiled.
Darla looked at Michael on the bed for a long moment. Her eyes were closed
slightly, and her breath was coming more quickly than before. Michael shifted
on the bed, testing the strength of his bonds, and found himself held fast.
Darla watched him with a smile. And then, suddenly, she turned and walked out
of the room.
"Hey! What IS this??" Michael shouted. "Is this what you wanted? Leave me here
like this? C'mon!"
"Just be patient, Michael," came her voice from another room. "I know that's
not one of your virtues, but this time you really have no choice. I'm not
leaving."
He could hear the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. He tried to pull
his hands loose, but the harder he pulled, the tighter the knot got. He was
still struggling when she reappeared.
"You don't trust me much, do you, Michael? I told you I wasn't leaving. Now
quit doing that before you cut off the circulation to your hand."
She set the pile of things she'd been carrying on the floor. Then, deftly, she
readjusted the tie on his left arm where his hand was beginning to turn purple.
"You're going to enjoy this, I promise you, so don't fight it."
He lay back on the bed, panting, and looked at her. Even in the dim light, her
own excitement was obvious. She bent down and picked up two large, slightly
worn bath towels from the floor. Sitting down, she laid the folded towels on
the bed beside him.
"Turn away from me for a moment and let me slip this under you."
He turned as far onto his side as the bonds would allow, and she spread the
towels beneath him, smoothing them out. Her warm hand brushed against his back,
as if to smooth away the tension there as well.
"All right, now roll back this way."
She walked around the bed, pulled the towels out beneath him and smoothed them
across the bed. There was now a layer of warm, soft terrycloth beneath him from
his neck almost to his knees. Puzzled, he watched her as she walked back to the
other side of the bed.
She picked up a small, heavy ceramic bowl from the floor and set it on the
bedside table. And then, standing beside the bed, she began, very slowly, to
caress herself. Her hands ran, teasingly, from her collarbone over her breasts,
circling from the outside toward the center. Her eyes were nearly closed. Her
back arched slightly and her shoulders moved from side to side as her fingers
moved inwards. She held first one nipple, then the other, and pulled them
slightly outwards against the fabric of the tank top. Then her hands continued
their slow, languorous travel, making their way downwards. Her fingers slid
inside the waistband of her panties. Her eyes opened slightly and she watched
him with a smile as she wiggled her hips, very slightly, and slid her hands
farther under the fabric, but then, instead of continuing to the center, she
slid her hands against her sides, stepped back a bit, and slowly, slowly pushed
the panties down. As she worked the panties down, farther and farther, she
stepped back a bit more from the bed so that he could see her. He strained
against the ties as he lifted his head to watch.
She wiggled her hips and the panties slid the rest of the way to the floor.
Quickly, she bent over and picked them up, rubbing the fabric between her
hands.
"My goodness, I wonder why these are so damp?
Do you want to feel it,
Michael?" -- bringing the soft fabric up against his cheek as he turned his
head away. "No? Ah well, no loss. Now, we need to do something about you, don't
we?" And with that, she dropped the panties to the floor.
Her hand traced a path up his left leg, caressing him, gradually working
upwards. When she reached the elastic on the leg of his briefs, she slid two
gentle fingertips underneath it, tracing the path of the elastic across his
leg, feeling the coarser hair beneath, teasing him, coming close to where his
bulge began, but never quite touching it. He turned slightly towards her and
made a soft sound. Her fingers slid a bit farther beneath the fabric, then
withdrew. She drew the backs of her fingernails across his belly, very gently,
and watched the skin flutter and his back arch involuntarily at her touch.
Again and again, till he was writhing on the bed.
"Stop it!" he gasped.
"All right," she said, and moved back away from the bed, walking around to the
foot of it, never taking her eyes off him. She climbed up on the bed, to kneel
between his legs. Watching him, again, she began to caress herself, her hands
following the same path, but lingering longer on her breasts, pulling the
nipples out again and again. Then her hands moved downwards, up under the tank
top, and she drew it up and over her head and tossed it to the floor. The soft
light revealed a light film of sweat.
Then she leaned forward a bit and reached up toward where his left hand was
tied. With both hands, she caressed his arm, slowly working her way downwards,
using fingertips and fingernails in gentle concert. She traced her way down
over his collarbone, his nipple (circling until he writhed again) and again
over his belly, making him twist under her hands. This time, she approached the
waistband of his briefs and slid her fingers beneath, sliding them down ever so
slightly, releasing him a bit. Breathing faster but still smiling, she ran a
gentle fingertip around the ridge on his cock, only once. His back arched again
and he pressed against her hand, his body wanting more.
But her hands moved upwards to his other hand and arm, and again, she repeated
the slow downward massage. By the time she reached his cock, he was gasping.
"Oh God, please..."
"Please what, Michael? What would you like?"
"what... oh... in your mouth, please..."
"Ah, but I can't do that while you have those on. You should have gotten
undressed, you know? What shall I do now?"
Her fingertips pushed the waistband down a bit more, teasing him by tracing a
path through his hair.
Darla knelt on the bed and considered the situation. Then, lightly, she began
to trace the outlines of Michael's cock through the fabric of his briefs.
Around, down, up, back, her hands made a path over the light blue material, but
they did not again touch bare skin. He began to move his hips in rhythm with
her fingers, wiggling whenever she moved upwards in an attempt to pull her
hands where he wanted them to be. Her fingers moved down between his legs,
teasingly, slipping inside the elastic now and again to caress him.
She bent closer to him, watching his reaction. Her mouth opened slightly, she
bent her head down by her hands. He moved his hips upward, seeking her mouth.
Shaking her head, then, she brushed her hair over his stomach, lightly over the
head of his cock, and then straightened up. He flopped back on the bed in
disappointment and looked at her.
"Bitch," he said through clenched teeth.
"Yes, Michael, all that and more."
She looked down at him through hooded eyes. And then, slowly, she put her index
finger in her mouth and sucked on it, moving it in and out of her mouth. Then
two fingers. He pulled against the ties that bound his hands. They held him
fast. Angry now, he struggled, trying to break free, but she made no move, kept
sucking her fingers and watching him. At last, exhausted, he gave up. She took
two wet fingers out of her mouth and traced them around the head of his cock.
"Is that what you want? Is it?" No answer.
"I'll give you what you want, Michael, but you have to give me what I want,
too."
Her fingers moved faster, feeling how slippery his skin had become, spreading
the fluids around in wider circles.
"Yes," he said, pressing up against her hand. "Yes."
"Good," she said.
Moving one leg over his, then the other, she slipped off the bed to stand
beside it. Her hands slipped down inside the briefs, sliding them down. She
reached around him; he arched his back to help her pull them down.
"Now, Michael, you have to do as I tell you, or I'll leave you here like this
and go home. Understood?"
"Yes..."
Her fingers trailed down his left leg, making circles with the backs of her
fingernails. He lifted his head to watch her. She untied the tie from the foot
of the bed, and he wiggled his foot, unsure of what she wanted him to do. She
reached up to slide the briefs down to knee level and he bent his knee,
allowing her to stretch the fabric over his knee and then down and off his leg.
He put his foot flat on the bed, knee still bent, and she ran her hand down the
back of his leg slowly, circling, still standing beside the bed, finally
reaching beneath him, probing, making him curl his leg up against his chest to
give her easier access. She pressed the leg back down again gently, withdrew
her hand, and re-tied the tie.
"Now, Michael, we both get what we want."
She reached into the ceramic bowl on the bedside table and brought her hands
back out, shiny with oil. She rubbed her hands together, then caressed her
breasts again, and again, sliding the oil over her skin until she shone softly
in the dim light. More oil, and her hands moved downwards. More oil, and she
reached to caress him as well. Her hands moved over his chest, his shoulders,
down over his stomach. Dipping her hands into the oil again, she placed them on
his chest and climbed back up to kneel between his legs. She moved both hands
down, tracing a circle on his stomach, moving down between his legs. Then her
hands slid gently upwards again, upwards, but this time, she shifted her
position so she was leaning close to him. The higher her hands reached, the
closer she came, until by the time her hands reached nearly to his wrists, her
nipples were brushing against him. Oiled skin against oiled skin, she slid
down, the pressure light but the contact unbroken, until his cock was between
her breasts. She shifted from side to side, rubbing him in gentle circles. His
back arched, and she allowed him to press more firmly against her for a moment.
Then she began to slide her hands gently upwards along his skin again, raised
herself up a bit. Panting, he looked at her, trying to guess what she would do
next. She smiled. Then she sat up, straddling his legs, and wiggled her hips
until he could feel her, warm, wet, soft cunt brushing against him. She reached
down to hold his cock against her and began moving her hips slowly, rocking
back and forth. He pushed up against her, moving in rhythm, hoping that soon,
she would slide him inside her, pulling against the ties on his arms as he kept
pace with her motions.
As his breathing began coming in ragged gasps, she realized how very aroused he
was, and stopped her motion.
"No, Michael, not yet. I'm not ready yet. Wait for me."
She sat back a little bit, settling down against his thighs, and began to
caress her breasts with both hands. Her fingers made rapid circles on the
lightly oiled skin, moving inwards to the nipples, pulling them out, rolling
them between her fingers, releasing them, circling outwards again. Soon, one
hand moved down her stomach, circling, brushing through her short, curly pubic
hair, sliding in between her lips. In the darkened room, tied on the bed as he
was, Michael could not really see her hand, but he could tell by the motion of
her body that she was moving it faster, sliding it down between the lips,
caressing herself as far back as she could reach. She moaned softly and brought
the hand forward again, teasing herself, circling, never quite touching the
center of her desire.
He watched as her hands moved in rhythm, one up, one down, and she began to
rock back and forth, panting, making small soft sounds of desire.
Suddenly, she wrapped both arms around herself.
"Michael, are you ready?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Yes," she echoed, and moved forward a bit.
She reached to caress his cock with both hands, feeling how wet it was, sliding
her fingers over it to spread the lubrication around, the wetness from her
hands adding to his. And then she rose on her knees, moved forward, holding him
with both hands, and slowly, slowly, brought him into position and settled down
against him just a bit. He slid inside her, just a little, the slick warm skin
sliding easily. They both gasped as he slid inside.
She kept her hands in place as she settled farther down, slowly, slowly
allowing him to slide farther inside. He pushed up against her, but she was
tight with desire and he could not make himself slide in any faster. Deeper and
deeper, until finally, he was all the way inside her. She stopped for a moment,
and he could feel her muscles tighten against him still more.
And then she began to move. Slowly at first, she began to rock her hips,
sitting up but leaning slightly forward, rising up so that he slid almost all
the way out, sliding him back within her again. The lubrication increased and
they moved faster against each other. Her hands went back to her breasts,
pulling the nipples out in rhythm with her hips. Faster and faster she rocked,
up and down, back and forth, her hands in constant motion. She seemed to want
to draw him deeper and deeper inside her. And then her breathing changed... the
rhythm changed... he could feel the ripples inside her as her climax rocked
her again and again. It was too much for him. He pushed up against her, again
and again, making her move with him, faster and faster. She went with him,
willingly, reaching down to hold him against her as his body twisted in climax
as well.
And then, she relaxed against him, nestling against his chest, straightening
her legs out so that she lay on top of him. They were panting, making soft
sounds. He was still inside her, but growing softer, sliding out. She chuckled,
and tightened up all her muscles, trying to squeeze him farther out. He pushed
up against her, but weakly, and finally slid out, feeling the wetness between
them.
"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, and reached up to untie his hand.
--
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