Eighteen
In the bathroom mirror my eyes seem almost smoky. I undress quickly and pull on the bathrobe hanging behind the door. I still haven’t got used to my hairless body. It seems too girlish, somehow, but I think I know why he wants it so. Everything in his life is neat and tidy. Not a pubic hair out of place.
When I hear him in the corridor I freeze.
Wear nothing.
I take the bathrobe off, slip into the bedroom and stand inside the door. He is already there dressed in dark gray trousers and white shirt. His tie is loosened and his shirtsleeves have been haphazardly folded up his muscular arms. His watch glints against his tan. He comes to me and leads me to the big black armchair by the large mirror. I see myself in the mirror. Nude.
Fully clothed he stands behind me.
‘Porcelain skin and fuck me now, blue eyes. How beautiful you are,’ he says, watching me through the mirror. His eyes are heavy-lidded and cloudy with desire.
He hooks his handmade leather shoe underneath my right foot and gently lifts it. The leather is cool and smooth and the laces rub erotically against the soft sole of my foot. His shoe deposits my foot on the padded seat of the big black chair.
The position has exposed my sex in the most indecent way. I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She looks wanton and shameless. Now I know the real reason why I am bald. There is nothing to hide behind.
It is all so shameful it is exciting. I look away.
‘I want you to see what I am doing to you.’
I meet his eyes in the mirror. He kisses my neck and I moan and try to turn towards him.
‘No, watch.’
Throbbing with excitement I gaze at the mirror. I have willingly spread open my sex and allowed him access into my most intimate part. I feel his fully clothed body brush against me. Vaguely: buttons pressing into my back…soft wool against my buttocks and thighs.
‘I love your skin. It is like the finest silk.’
Then his hand is moving towards my navel and sliding downwards without any resistance. All the while he is watching me watch myself.
His palm comes to press on my pubic bone and I watch the palm make circles. The circles become tighter and tighter until they are moving the flesh over my clit. Suddenly his index finger taps on the nub and I shiver with helpless wanting.
‘Not yet,’ he whispers. ‘I will decide when you come.’
Then his fingers move quickly in a sweeping motion along my crack, gathering juice. There is more than enough there. The lubricated finger circles the swollen, throbbing bud. Watching him pleasure me is the most unexpectedly erotic thing I have experienced.
I draw a sharp breath and long for the feeling of being full. That feeling of having him inside me, but he does not give that to me. Instead he rubs around my sex, his fingers are cunningly methodical. The same movement again and again.
In minutes I feel the waves coming, but as I push eagerly towards them, towards release, his fingers stop, and even though I press my hips towards them, they stubbornly refuse to move, until the waves dissipate. I sag against him, frustrated, and he slowly pushes his finger into me.
‘Wet, hot and tight,’ he murmurs.
I look at his large hand; the thick, masculine wrist peppered with silky hair working me. Again that longing to be filled, not with one finger, but with the magnificently thick, long shaft inside his trousers. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, Fuck me.
‘Kiss me,’ he orders.
I twist my neck around and give him my mouth. His tongue enters it. I suck greedily. A finger becomes two and increases speed. Just as I am beginning to enjoy the rhythm the fingers are withdrawing, slipping and sliding around the lips. He takes his mouth away as his other hand leaves my waist and cupping my chin, holds it facing the mirror.
I stare at myself in shock. At his big hand moving and the glistening redness of my engorged sex—it is as if it is alive. A shameless greedy creature. And suddenly I am coming and… hard. Real hard. I open my mouth in a shout as my knees buckle and I feel myself losing balance. His hand tightens like a vice around my waist.
When it is over I lean my head back against his chest for a moment.
‘Hold onto the chair,’ he says, and bends me over. He puts a hand on my back at waist level and pushes down, so my hips are angled, my sex is more exposed. I hear his zip and the soft sound of his trousers dropping. Putting his palm on either side of my face he turns my head and makes me watch what he is doing to me.
‘I want you to watch me fucking you.’
With wild eyes I look at the image our bodies make as he grabs me by the hips and his proud cock disappears inside me.
‘Now, let me hear your cries. Purr for me, Lana,’ he commands and rams ferociously into my willing, dripping wetness.
I cry out with the sensations: the fullness and the depths that he has gone into.
It is surprisingly painful, but such is my need to have him inside that I welcome the pain and push back against him, to take more of him. So he goes even deeper, until his thick shaft is buried all the way to the root. I grunt inelegantly. One hand falls on my back, pushing me into the armchair, while the other grasps my shoulder.
‘Ah.’
Suddenly, the animal in him takes over. With bestial urgency he drives into me. Harder and faster. Grinding me against him. The solid armchair rocks with his thrusts. And at that moment I am utterly possessed by the man. His to do anything with.
As he slams into me I realize that the palm of his hand that is pressed against my pubic bone is bringing forth different sensations. The rubbing is causing me to crest again. It is explosive this time, it makes my body convulse uncontrollably and lasts, even past his last urgent thrusts and his own groan of release.
I feel his body slacken against mine. With both his arms around my waist he straightens me, and holds me close to him while he is still inside. I look at him in the mirror and find his eyes unreadable.
Wordlessly, he withdraws out of me and goes into the bathroom.
Without him in the mirror I seem alone and abandoned. On trembling legs I move to hide my nakedness inside the bathrobe.