Myth: Proper kinky sex is about trust, safety, respectful boundaries and comfortable, mature exploration of the desires of mutually consenting adults

Reality: The most raw, bone-shatteringly good fucking always happens right at the edge of what you’re most afraid of. Good sex is dangerous. You SHOULD be a little uncomfortable.

“Your house is so… I expected it to be--”

“Bigger?” he said.

I smiled.

“I’m sorry, I’m being impolite, I just imagined you’d live in some kind of castle, I don’t know,” I said and followed him as we walked into his humble studio apartment.

“Oh, sure, I do. I just like to keep all my castles in Europe,” he laughed and gestured for me to sit down.

There was no denying it now. What little scrap of professional relationship we ever had was well and truly demolished.

I was at his house.

We had kissed.

And now… I had told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Which of course meant it was all I could think of. Though I was sitting on his sofa, though I was so turned on it felt like I would burst if he looked at me funny, though he kept piercing me with those green eyes of his and that devilish smile, over and over… I had told him it wouldn’t happen. And now, the only way it would happen is if I told him it’s actually what I wanted.

Suddenly, the warbling sounds of a soprano’s voice burst into the room and snapped me from my daydreaming. I looked up at him walking towards me, a bottle of champagne in his hands.

“Il Trittico,” I whispered. “I haven’t heard this in ages.”

“I knew you’d appreciate that,” he said, smiling with satisfaction.

“Appreciate it? No question it’s Pucini’s most underrated--”

“Most underrated opera. I couldn’t agree more.”

“You… you know about opera?” I asked, taking the fluted glass he offered me and forcing myself to drag my ears away from the hypnotizing sounds and back to his voice, equally hypnotizing.

“No, I don’t know a damn thing about it, to be honest. I’m an uncultured buffoon, it’s part of my charm, you see. But I knew you’d like it,” he said, easily popped the champagne cork and began pouring frothy golden liquid into our glasses. The house may have been on the modest side, but the champagne must have cost the earth and the glassware looked like it belonged in a museum.

“So how did you know I liked it?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I told you. My job is to find out all the things that please you the most, then do those things, right?”

Of its own accord, my hand lifted the glass to his, we clinked then both took small sips of the sparkling liquid, eyes still glued together. Of course, I was tipsy long before I took that sip. I thoughtfully set my glass down and smoothed my hands over my lap.

“Right. And that’s part of your complicated kink, isn’t it?” I said and shot him quick look. His smile was as effervescent as the bubbles fading on my tongue.

“Well, yes, we’ll get to that later,” he said quietly.

One part of me wanted to run away and never have him look so deeply into my eyes again, and another part wanted to push him back onto this sofa and make him finish what he started earlier at the fair today. I ping ponged back and forward between these two so fast I felt I was going crazy. He leaned back in his seat; spread his arms wide and exhaled.

Compared to mine, his house was positively Bohemian. Everything was in a muted shade of dark blue or leather or black, and everything seemed designed exclusively to be lounged against. I had already seen him naked. Already seen him stripped bare and staring back at me, face open and with that little glint of mystery in his eye. And yet something about curling up here in his home with him, me over here with champagne in my head and him over there in his woolly sweater… it all seemed four billion times more erotic than anything I had ever thought about before.

I took another sip, leant back and exhaled like him, feeling the bubbles smoothing over the ragged edges of my breath.

“You’re my strangest client, you know that?” I said at last.

“Really? I don’t believe you. I bet you’ve met millions of more interesting men than me.”

“Oh, interesting, yes. But you’re strange,” I said, and he laughed.

“Tell me about them,” he said.

I took a deep breath and another sip. “Well, you wouldn’t believe the naughty things I’ve done,” I said, in a seductive voice I hadn’t quite decided yet was real or just pretend.

“No?”

“I used to be a bit wild, in my youth.”

“Wild?”

“Oh yes.”

“Tell me.”

This was fun. Despite everything, despite how dangerously close he was coming to seeing just how fucked up I was, I was actually enjoying myself.

“Well, since you like games so much, here’s a game. I tell you two stories, and you have to guess which one is a lie.”

This had his attention.

I loved the way he was looking at me. His face never stayed still for long. There was always something going on with it, under the surface, shifting subtly with every little change in expression. It excited me.

“Story one,” I said and took a deep breath, realizing how close he was sitting. “I once fucked a pilot in the cockpit on a jet flying to Spain. I sat in his lap and he fucked me really hard and the copilot watched us both and jerked off a little. We landed an hour later and I could still feel it.”

His eyes were wide and he had stopped smiling.

“Story number two. I was once at a fancy charity dinner, at a table with a really hot couple. I stroked the guy’s cock under the table with my foot until he caught my drift and we both got up to meet in the men’s restroom. When we were finished screwing, you know what he said? He said, ‘now go and call my wife’. And so I did. I never saw either of them again but I never did decide who was the better fuck.”

In the silence that followed, I drained my glass and felt myself relax a little deeper into the comfy sofa. He lifted his eyebrows and whistled low under his breath.

“Those are some …interesting stories,” he said.

“But which one is a lie?”

“The second one.”

I smiled.

“I’m right, aren’t I? Ok. Again,” he said, his face still serious.

“Another round?” I teased.

“Yeah.”

I cleared my throat and made a show of playing with the rolled edge of the sofa cushion.

“Story number one is that I was at a very exclusive, very fancy celebrity party once. Things got out of hand. Somebody dared me to strip, so I did. Before I knew it, they were all getting naked, too. I don’t remember how many men there were, but I fucked each of them. Many times each. They did things to me…” I said, trailing off for dramatic effect. “Story number two is that once this very wealthy English gentlemen took me on a horse ride, on his estate in Dorset, but when we were far out in the woods we dismounted, he tore my clothes off, put me against a tree and fucked me so hard my feet came off the ground. I had bark burns all along my back, so that night he had his maids rub me down with ointment. I think he liked that it burnt a little. I think he liked to watch my face as I winced...”

“Mmm that’s hot,” he whispered.

“Hot? So you’re not jealous?” I teased.

“Nope.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re one of those who gets off on his girlfriend sleeping with other men?”

Silence.

“No, not at all. I just know that none of your stories are true. But I am enjoying the idea that you thought of them at all. And that you think of yourself as my girlfriend.”

My cheeks burst into flame and I sorely wished I had more champagne to guzzle.

“Well, yes, fine, I made it all up,” I said and couldn’t help giggling. It was hard to feel embarrassed around him. How could I, when he kept giving me that warm, easy smile of his?

“Actually, the truth is, I’m a bit of a prude”. I pulled my legs up onto the sofa. It didn’t escape my attention that our legs were touching. He didn’t pull away.

“Now that I don’t believe,” he said.

“It’s true!”

“Can’t be.”

“It is. You want to know a secret? I’ve only had one proper relationship before.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Again his face shifted and flickered as a new expression went over his face.

“And to make matters worse, he was a total asshole. Seriously. Just, the worst guy,” I said laughing. But he was serious again.

“Well, that’s just not right.”

“Ah, it’s OK, we broke up a long time ago, in fact when I was still in college…”

He looked at me hard. Shit. I was saying too much.

“So, you haven’t been with anyone since college?”

I knew what he was asking. What’s more embarrassing than having a bit of a slutty past? Being a sad loser who hasn’t had sex for years, that’s what. My mouth suddenly went dry.

“I’m sorry, this is all a bit too much information, isn’t it? I’ll shut up now,” I blurted, and pulled my knee away from his, but he immediately shot his hand out and touched me, on my thigh, as though to say, stay here. I looked at him.

“Is this what you really want, Nora? To be apologetic and shy and unsure? We can do that if you want, but I have a feeling we could spend our time some other way…” He lifted his hand and placed it gently to my cheek, stroking my jawline with his fingertips. Every cell in my body jolted awake at his touch.

What did I want?

More of that.

“You’re right. I’m just …nervous,” I breathed.

“Of what? There’s nothing to be afraid of. I already told you. The only things that happen here, with me now, is whatever you want to happen.”

But could I really ask him for what I wanted? Could I let go and trust this beguiling man, this stranger who was promising me something that just didn’t seem possible? Where was the catch? I had set up my entire life so that I could always be in control. And yet…

“So what if I told you that I wanted to have sex after all?”

“Then that’s what we’d do.”

I gulped and let that settle in. It was an unbelievable rush, knowing that I was just a word away from all that. From him. From that beautiful body I had seen not long ago and knew was waiting for me, under his clothes right now. He stroked my cheek again and pulled me a little closer, and I kissed him. There was no effort in it, no intention. In fact, it was only release, only giving up the tension, surrendering to what my body clearly wanted so badly.

I collapsed into him and got carried away in the kiss, till I didn’t know if I was letting him kiss me or he was letting me kiss him. I just knew that the longer my lips and tongue stayed caressing his, the further that delicious warmth spread over me, and the easier it was to press myself against the firmness resting just underneath that soft sweater. The only thing that seemed to stop me from melting into a puddle right there was his firm, steady hand cradling my neck and his other hand pressing down on my upper thigh.

“Dean, I…” I tried to speak between kisses, my voice coming in gasps. “Dean, I want…”

“Tell me what you want,” he said, kissing me hungrily.

“I want…” it felt like the words were so big they stuck in my throat. Too scary to say. “I want you to fuck me,” I said, spitting it out, more of a plea than an order.

“Then tell me. Tell me exactly how much you want it,” he growled, leaning deeper into me to kiss me a little more roughly. My entire body ignited. I had never been spoken to like that before. Say it again?

I grabbed his hand and pulled it further down, so that it rested between my legs, just inches away from that throbbing spot that he had turned on the very moment he had waltzed into my life. I could taste his smile.

“Good. Now say it. Say what you want,” he mumbled, his lips all over mine, our breath hot and desperate, his palm pressing hard against me through my clothes. I moaned.

“Please, Dean. I want you. I want to do this with you…”

“How badly? Tell me.”

He was teasing me. I couldn’t believe it. But the answer to how badly I wanted it was clear: very fucking much. So much that I felt ready to do anything just then so long as he’d stop teasing and just fucking touch me already…

“God you’re beautiful,” he mumbled as he slid his hands up under my sundress and pulled, revealing my pale skin underneath.

“Take it off,” I blurted. “I want you to take it all off” I said, my voice frantic with longing. This seemed to turn a switch in him. He set his jaw, got to his knees and rapidly got to work pulling off my dress, tugging my shoes off and pulling away my bra and panties. It took my breath away, the energy he put to work completely stripping me. He was possessed, and after I realized nothing would deter him, I let my head fall back and offered myself to him to be roughly undressed.

Only my panties remained. I squeezed shut my eyes knowing that when he peeled them off, he’d find ample, obvious evidence for how disgustingly turned on I really was. He slid the fabric down my thighs and paused a little, and I knew that he was taking me all in. Knew that my drenched thighs and soaked pussy had caught his attention. My heart pounded madly in my chest.

“Don’t stop,” he said in a throaty voice. “Keep talking.”

So I let go. Just a little. I held my breath as he slid the loop of my underwear off over my ankles, and then I was naked, and I let him look at me. Then I opened my mouth to speak, hoping the words would form.

“I want you to touch me,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

“Good. Tell me where,” he said, and brought his lips close to my neck. I shuddered at the sensation of his fully clothed body against my naked skin. I grabbed his wrist and urgently pressed his hand to that tender, dripping spot.

“Here,” I hissed into his ear. “Right here.”

He felt heavy against me, pinning me down with his broad chest. When a single finger dipped low into that aching slit I thought I would scream. He carried on, tracing a sinewy line down over that thumping knot of pleasure and further, further down into that secret pool…

“Oh fu--”

“I said don’t stop talking,” he ordered, and watched my face intently.

“That’s good,” I whimpered. And sweet fuck was it good. He seemed to know exactly where to stroke me, exactly how to touch me, exactly when to drag his fingertips away and tease me. Suddenly, what he had been telling me took on another, more exciting color. Maybe I should tell him exactly what I wanted. Maybe I could speak out loud all the dirtiest thoughts I’d been holding inside my whole life and dare him to make good on his word and please me, if that’s what he wanted so bad.

Images and ideas bubbled up irresistibly in my mind.

“Inside,” I breathed, and clawed at his back to anchor myself against the torturing bliss of having him stroke my clit like that.

“Inside?” he said with mischief in his voice, but before I could respond he had sunk his finger into that quivering pool, dipping into a whole world of pleasure stirring just an inch inside. He held me down as I wriggled against every inch he pressed in. His eyes were wild as he watched me.

“Another one,” I said. It was all I could manage. I was intoxicated, a bewitched mess, unable to speak properly anymore.

“You want another one?” he said and teased another finger at that tingling entrance.

“Yes,” I said, but the sound didn’t make its way fully out of my throat. I rolled and gyrated against his hand, twisting and snaking against him for more. But he took his time sliding in the next finger, so much time that I felt my whole body arching towards him, begging him to fill that hole.

Like a woman possessed, my tongue and lips spoke on their own. “And another one,” I gasped, and I felt him growl in approval. It was a delicious ladder, and each step took me higher and higher, closer to some gorgeous burning point deep inside me that I just wanted him to touch.

“You like that?” he breathed.

He was everywhere. His voice was in my ear, his arms were locked all around me, his strong body was on top of me, and down below, his fingers were stroking up a heat that felt so outrageously dirty I was certain I had soaked his hand and was dripping onto the sofa.

“I want…” I said, waiting for my body to speak for me again, for me to fill in that delicious blank and magic up the next blissful sensation. “I want…”

He leaned in closer, pressing a ridiculously hard cock square against my leg. He had me three thick fingers wedged deep inside me, each of them stroking me so expertly I couldn’t think straight, so deeply I felt my entire body swell and tense around him.

Didn’t I want that cock inside me? Didn’t I need that thick, juicy tool of his crammed far inside me, and wasn’t that the only thing that would satisfy me right now?

I gasped and pulled back away from his kiss.

“Dean I… I have to tell you something. It’s been …it’s been a really long time for me.” I didn’t know if I could handle all this. Handle …him. His body was so intimidating.

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” I said, still rocking my hips over his fingers, stroking out my own delicious rhythm there, still not quite believing what this man could make me feel.

“Relax for me,” he said, and played with his fingers now, pulling them out, then slowly stuffing them all the way back in again. It was a brutal, filthy movement, but done so slowly it almost felt… romantic.

I knew I only had to give the word. Only had to say exactly where I wanted him to stick that beast of his and how deeply, and he would do it. I could tell him to bend me over now and fuck me savagely from behind, or order him to press my legs so far open that my knees went to my ears, so he could squeeze every last inch of that thing into me, right inside as far as he could reach, and fuck me hard till I couldn’t take it any more. I could tell him to grab my hair in his fist and force his cock all the way into my throat, and then…

“Stop,” I gasped.

He stopped.

“There’s something else,” I said, short of breath, struggling to maintain my composure when he had three fingers knuckle-deep into me, and there was no way he wasn’t feeling my overwhelmed body twitching and trembling with each delicious stretch, and release, and stretch, and release.

“Dean, I want to be honest. I want to tell you the truth… I’ve never had an orgasm before,” I said, and closed my eyes to wait for the fallout of such a confession. But his gorgeous fingers didn’t stop their caressing.

“So?”

“It’s just… I can’t…”

“Then don’t.”

Silence.

“Just don’t stop telling me what you want, Nora. That’s all you have to do. Come all the way out with me anyway, I don’t care.”

I whimpered, suddenly unsure if I was about to cry or laugh, or explode all over him. I had never had an orgasm. No, not one. Yes, I’m sure. And yes, I’ve tried everything. What did I want? For him to keep going. To keep doing that dirty thing with his fingers. It felt unreal, to be stretched, to be held open, to find myself happily accommodating him, my juicy body shaking violently around him yet welcoming him in deeper with every thrust in, then out, then in again.

“I want …this,” I said, reaching down to his cock and gasping at just how solid it felt in my hand. He pulled away briefly to remove his clothes, but kept his hazy eyes nailed to mine. When he came to lay down beside me again, his skin was warm and soft and smelt so good I couldn’t help but bury my face against it and draw a deep, indecent breath. With shaking hands, I again reached for that massive rod, and felt it swell in my hands.

I was scared.

I was thrilled.

I couldn’t believe this was actually going to happen. I kissed him, this time his tongue feeling like a language against mine, a language that said yes or like that or please don’t stop…

I can’t exactly tell you the series of events that led to his wide, stiff cock pressing me open. By that point, I was no longer myself, no longer ‘there’, but somewhere far away, somewhere in a world made only of the hot scent of his skin, and the delicious aching tear of having him climb all the way up inside me. And then it happened when I wasn’t thinking about it happening. It happened suddenly, and like a spell, like a hiccup, like tripping and falling.

“Tell me what you want, Nora.”

“I want this …oh fuck, I want it…”

“Tell me. Fucking say it!”

“Oh god… I want your cock, please…”

“You want what?”

“I want your fucking cock” I cried.

I peeled open my eyes to see him grinning down at me, his strong body curling brutally into mine, bringing down the full length of that immense cock slickly into my aching pussy, again and again and again… He bit his lower lip and gave me a cheeky kiss, even as he kept pounding into me below.

“You feel that, Nora?” he said, his breath hot in my ear.

I almost laughed out loud.

“You fucking feel that? Look how much you love it,” he said, and I gasped to try and answer him but I couldn’t speak anymore. I could only glance down and see his swollen, red cock pumping in and out of me, so wet it glistened. It was so outrageously hot to see I felt something break inside me. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I didn’t want to hold on any longer…

“Dean, I think I’m… Dean…”

My whimper turned into a slow, silent scream as a dam burst inside me and a wave of heat ripped all the way through me. I felt myself clenching hard down on him, but each spasm that met his thick cock only seemed to prolong the wave, only seemed to keep me at that quivering height even longer. I clawed at his shoulders but he only thrust deeper into me, like he knew exactly where I needed the head of his cock, and why…

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said and pulled me close to him, and I could feel my chest fluttering against him. Had I…? It couldn’t possibly be.

“Now what was that nonsense about not being able to come?” he said and gave me a naughty look.

“Dean, that was… I just…”

“Well shit, I see you’ve forgotten how to talk,” he said.

Waves of pleasure were still pumping through me, and with each one I was reminded that he was still inside me, all the way inside me, and though he was no longer slamming into me, all I had to do was draw a breath to feel how electrified I was all against his entire length, how ready I was to do …that again.

It happened.

I had had an orgasm.

And it was nothing like what I thought it would be.

It felt deep and dirty and wild and a little bit insane. It felt like he had dug deep inside me and rattled me loose, pressing hard on all those buttons inside that I never knew I had.

It felt more than good.

It felt bad.

I traced a shaking finger over his collarbone, now glistening with sweat. His face looked different to me now. He had known, somehow. Known what I had needed and given it to me, one dirty word, one heavy inch at a time. I only realized there were tears on my lashes when he leaned forward to kiss them away.

“Ok, you can stop talking now,” he teased, and carried on his kissing onto my cheeks. “Besides, now I already know what you want.”

He only needed to push in the slightest bit for me come alive again. I wanted more. I wanted another long tumble down that hill.

A dark, deep growl came from his chest as he started to gently, slowly roll his hips again into mine once more.

“Do you think you could come again …just for me…?” he said. I moaned.

He was thrusting slowly now, but deep, and every part of him was pressed up tightly against every part of me. Astonishingly, the answer was yes. A few deep, full strokes later, I cried out again as I came, but this time, I felt as his body instantly tightened around mine, his jaw clenched and deep inside I could feel him explode. We came together, easily, and it was messy, and hot, and so good it almost hurt.

We lay for a long while in each other’s arms, coming back to earth, cooling down, trying to unscramble our brains and untangle our limbs. But the orgasm was still in me somehow, still leftover and buzzing in every atom of my body; the whole world took on a hazy golden color and hummed. I had been unlocked. Switched on. The world was suddenly colorful.