Saturday, February 5, 2011

Isobelle's fantasy

Isobelle you're making me crazy. Isobelle I see you on the train. I can't not look at you. You're hair catches the sun, there is a innocence in your demeanour that I want to own, to break.

Isabelle I'll bet you didn't know heights could make your pulse race? Do you know what it feels like to be touched by satin and leather? To hold a piece of material between your lips? I want to be your bug-bear,. I want to be so close you can feel the warmth of my breath on your neck, so close you can't imagine anything but allowing me to help you find your release.

I bet you don't even notice me? I'm tall, I work out. You always get on the train and appear to be off in lah-lah land, half smiling, miles away. I know you're name. I've heard you answer your phone. You make me crazy with lust and I'm invisible. Do you know how sexy that is?

I crave the opportunity to make your skin tingle, to find your hidden heat. When you turn away from me and your hair sways, I can smell your shampoo. I imagine finger-fucking you naked, your expression clotted with lust, begging me remember to enter you once I have released the delicious pleasure of your mounting orgasm. Why don't you notice me? I thought I gave the impression I ravished you with my eyes?

At home, alone, Isobelle touches her intimate creases and greases them with her longing. She slides her slippery fingers around her wetness and presses her lush breasts on the cold glass in the shower. It gives her body tremours and her nipples rise to peaks. Under the warm buzz of the shower she lets her hands wander between her legs, gently bringing herself to orgasm imagining bringing to life the suggestion she can see in the eyes of her tall, dark-haired commuter.

He makes her tremble, he makes her ache for the hardness of a lover's hands on her sweet tight curves. Isobelle excels herself, working her fingers into the warm flesh. Such consistent attention fuels her desire to thrust into herself. Unthinking she presses her thighs together and adds pressure. What would he want from her? Total and silent, depraved surrender? To bind her to his need? To nip her flesh? Cast her to the floor and take her blindly? Isobelle explodes in orgasm, feeling the tremours rack her slight frame.

Isobelle inches foward


Isobelle coyly purses her lips, repeats his name. They lapse into a silence punctuated by the movement of the train. About to alight at his usual stop

I'll take you to dinner. I'd like that.”

He doesn't take her number and after he's gone, without the heat of his gaze, she knows bereavement.

Later, Isobelle expresses herself in her lounge. She daydreams of his possessive stare and his taut, lean, torso as she kneels on the floor, wracked by longing. She splashes scented oil on her breasts and rubs each nipple dry. Her hips undulate with erotic slowness. She can feel her juices maddeningly begin to collect at the juncture between her legs. Each pink nipple stands proudly to attention, thighs trembling.


She roughly clips a budded breast between her thumb and index finger, forcing a noise in her throat. Isobelle half- crawls across the coarse carpet, enjoying the burn on her knees, the feel of a breeze on her lush pussy. She' s heavy with juice, ready. Isobelle listens to her breath, how it changes. At last, she hauls herself up on her haunches, circling her ample breasts with the palm of only one hand. The other nestles in her desperate folds, building towards her release.

On the train the following morning Ezra is nowhere. Isobelle finds herself searching.

He appears as usual on the home-ward ride- His brazen stare laced with ridicule. Did he sense her relief? Standing beside her, the weight of peak-hour bodies closing the distance between them as though intimate friends, Isobelle thrills. This is what life is all about. Her body vibrates and she struggles for breath. Mistakenly glancing up at him, his chocolate irises are dilated, seductive, fixated.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking of you”.

Isabelle's mouth falls open. She has nowhere safe to look. In a rush of brazen heat she meets his eyes.

“I want you too”

She feels warmth of shame through her body. His expression darkens. Talking in low tones they exchange numbers. All too soon he leaves their train.

After dinner she stares at the blank tv. Shaking fingers toy with her phone. It rings five times before anyone makes it to the receiver.


She breathes, he chuckles. The mirth fills up the phone, breaks the ice and descends into her body like whiskey.

Isobelle parts with her address. She fidgets in her front room and stares at where she has sunk to her knees and parted her sex for him over the last few days.

Finally they are about to meet.

Isobelle's Dirty Surprise

At last, sitting in his car in expensive silence, her freshly shaven thighs peeping out from the short hem of her favourite dress. As she moves, she knows the fabric dances like liquid.

“I’ll take you to my house”

Ezra glances at her. Notes she’s is not relaxed. Good. He likes it when he has the upper-hand.

At the high rise, using his keys and a security pass he leads her to the penthouse, through the foyer and up the lift. It’s up and up. Isobelle can see the city skyline from the balcony. Outside in the warm air, he stands in the doorway, silhouetted. It’s real. Her legs are beginning to tremble.

“So lovely”

Ezra’s voice comes from behind her.

“Do you like to be... shocked?”

Isobelle can’t think.

“I... I...”

Reason forces her to clear her throat and she walks inside to relieve her eyes of his silhouette. It has started to disconcert her. With the sweet taste of champagne on his lips, he gives her a first kiss. In a lazy movement akin to seduction, Ezra closes the distance between them and rubs his palm up her back. His full lips descend upon hers as he tastes her. Isobelle experiences a jolt of lust from her core.

“I’ve wanted to do these things to you” Chuckles.

“Things that aren’t fit for the train”.

It’s the menacing timber of his voice, it makes her shiver. Isobelle thrills. Will she be dominated by this mysterious man? Already her pussy is lush and wanting. She takes the moment at face-value and starts to take of her clothes.

Ezra eyes her, impressed. The slippery fabric of her dress descends to the floor and beneath it her light curves are coated in black. A balconette bra hugs her breasts and presents them. Her knickers are tiny and lace. As he surveys his prize, Ezra can see the pulse in her neck. She is afraid.

His keen eyes take in the scene and his cock begins to throb. There will be no misunderstanding tonight, they both mean to have their fun. Preamble has shredded with her dress. Ezra remains motionless. His silence gives him a regal air and Isobelle decides to play along. She closes the distance between them, parts her lips in anticipation and brushes his chest with her hand.

He watches.

Bolder now, she reaches up and plants lush kisses on his neck. He winces. She is too coy, too slight and innocent. A darkness flickers within him and Ezra drags her head from his neck in a quick movement, he captures her hair. Isobelle gasps. The pain is real. He pushes her to the floor before him, letting go. She takes in the bulge in his expensive trousers, there is nowhere else really to look.

“Suck it” Ezra rumbles.

Isobelle tugs at his pants with shaking fingers, his cock bounces free of it’s cloth cage and she thrusts herself into kneeling position. Ezra assists her by holding his length at the base. Soon his ample pole is slick with saliva and he assists her to face-fuck, the repeated, unrelenting action causing her to gag.

“You’re a good girl”

Ezra thrusts with his hips. Isobelle’s eyes bulge. It’s rough and uncaring. Her emotions swirl. Pre-cum dawns on the eye of his cock, she can taste the heavy drops. As he thrusts and grunts she can tell it won’t be long. ..

Unexpectedly. He stops.

He pushes her off, looking down at her shaken form.

“You are too good at that”

More gently now.

“Too compliant, not the slut I was hoping to fuck”

Isobelle palls.


“You are too sweet. I think you should leave”

Ezra reluctantly begins to button his pants. He retrieves her dress and thrusts it at her. She looks at him pleadingly.

“But you have undressed me with your eyes for weeks”

Her voice is soft.

“I want you”

“You want me to treat you badly?”

In his eyes she reads disbelief.

“You want to be my whore?”

Ezra finishes his first lesson

“I don’t know what I want. I want you to show me.... ”

Isobelle stills at her place on the floor before him. He notices she has her knees up to her chest and knickers that are wet at her slit.

“Take off your knickers”

Ezra watches her carefully. She stands. Obliges. She makes the move in such a way that her breasts dangle before him, like a treat. Her legs remaining straight.

“You will like my mahogany table” Ezra’s tone is dry. She nods.

“Go over to it, lean over to show yourself to me”

Isobelle leans across the table. Her plump pussy faces him. She can feel a blush of shame on her cheeks.

“Spread your legs”

Isobelle knows if she shows him her sweetness, he will see the pearly sheen of desire on her flesh. He will know she is titilated. Will he use this to his advantage? With a sigh she spreads her thighs.

In the glow of the lamps on the sideboard, Ezra can indeed see evidence of her enthusiasm. He makes no effort to go to her, keeping the distance.

“Lean forward, stretch yourself across”

Isobelle inches her torso further into the centre of the table. Her pert bottom automatically pushes further into the air. She breathes in slowly, trying to keep the intake of air steady so Ezra won’t hear how aroused this makes her. She fails.

“What would you like me to do?”

She takes the erotic silence as a cue and looks over her right shoulder at him.

“I want you to finger me”

A pause, broken by Ezra's quiet drawl.

“I didn’t hear you”

“I want you to touch me”

“Are you wet?”

Her delectable rear wiggles in anticipation. He makes no move to go over there. He takes a sip of his drink. The moment stretches. Isobelle looks over her shoulder at him, her expression flecked with annoyance. A smug smile plays on his lips.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”


“I know you have been masturbating, you practically said so yourself. Show me”

“No! I...”

Ezra places his glass down on the side table, unbuttons one and then another of his top buttons at his collar. Finally, deliberately, he closes the distance between them. Isobelle makes as if to turn and greet him for a kiss. He places a palm firmly between her shoulders and the small of her back. It keeps her at her position. She flexes her slight back, leans forward.

Ezra releases his organ from the confines of his clothes. He shifts quickly, stands behind her with the head of his manhood nestled on the warmth of her sex. Isobelle takes shallow breaths.

“You won’t touch yourself for me?”


Her voice is uncertain. Ezra removes his gift. Still facing the table, she feels the loss of his cock. The moment had been almost momentous and now there will be no hope of release.

“You will never be a whore” Ezra’s voice is heavy with regret.

“You are too weak for me, too mild and pretty”.

Isobelle’s small frame catches in a slump. She knows she won’t please him tonight, can sense that the magic is almost at an end.

Ezra braces himself. In a swift, calculated movement he guides his cock-head into her dripping folds. Taken by surprise Isobelle tightens on his first thrust, adding to her heavenly sensation.


Ezra strokes once more. Now their sex are connected the feeling is tenfold, anticipation too great.

“Just let me fuck you” He bites out, building his pace.

As his pole glides in and out of her wanton pussy Isobelle revels in the sensation. His large dick fills her slick passage, exploring and retreating in a ever-increasing rhythm.


“You don’t deserve this”

Isobelle lets her breasts slide against the finely polished wood of the table. She doesn’t speak. As he pushes into her she can feel her pelvic muscles take him, quivers spreading through her from within. Isobelle hears him groan in satisfying, gut-wrenching lust. She stifles a smile on her lips and she feels her body take her up over the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

“I’ll teach you. You’re mine" Ezra’s voice in her ear.

His pace fast and deep. One foot on a chair thrusting. He still feels good, sliding in and out of her, but Isobelle feels the slow come-down from orgasm A thought occurs to her, the always-composed Ezra, with his pants around his ankles, his shoes on is ‘teaching her a lesson’. His composure is gone. Her giggle becomes a squeak as she feels him grow inside her, cumming, about to lean on her back. Eagerly, Isobelle pushed back. Ezra finds himself groaning, pliant as she turns, hips first, planting a heated kiss on his unsuspecting face.

"Teach me?”

Ezra raises an eyebrow...