This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that

Saturday, February 5, 2011

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?”


“But...?”


“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?”


“No.”


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.


“oOHh”


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.


“Ahh”


“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...

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