The Red Ribbon (Complete)

– 1 –

I couldn’t help myself. I needed to do it, even though I knew I ran the risk of displeasing you. But there was nothing else that could be done. To satisfy myself, I had to do it.

I let myself into your apartment. I arrived not long after noon, and I knew I had hours before you came home. Luckily, you were working away from the city, so I knew you would message me to let me know when you would be heading home. Even though I am your slave, you know that I am a woman, first and foremost. More importantly, you know that I’m a woman in love with a man she never wants to lose. So you let me know what’s going on, even though you don’t have to. I had plenty of time to do what I needed.

Stepping inside, I set down the bags and box I carried and leant against the door, merely standing there, inhaling the scent of you. Your deodorant, the faint hint of the coffee you brewed this morning, the essential smell of you. I slowly walked through the apartment, touching the things you would touch, running my hand along the couch where we had spent so many hours watching television or talking, and where you spent so much time commanding my body. Just the thought the number of times you’ve sat there as you watched me dance and strip for you; just the thought of the number of times I’ve knelt before you, gently licking or hungrily sucking your cock; just the thought of the number of times you’ve knelt in front of me licking my cunt or fucking me; just the thoughts alone arouse me.

I turned around, and surveyed the room, thinking about what I had to do. Even with your return home hours away, I had to get started. It wouldn’t be done quickly… not what I had in mind. I shrugged out of my jacket, and hung it on the hook near the door. I was dressed for comfort and practicality, and not seduction, even so the fabric rubbed across my bare nipples. Absently, I reached up to tweak them as I kicked off my shoes, thinking of you as I did, both impatient for your return and hoping that I’d have enough time.

A knock at the door signalled the beginning of what would be a very busy afternoon.

– 2 –

The hours had passed quickly, and pretty much in a blur. But finally I had finished almost everything by the time you sent me the message saying you were leaving for the day. I replied, letting you know I was free for the evening if you had anything in mind. It wasn’t a complete lie; I didn’t have any other plans except to be there with you.

Then I started on the last things I needed to do.

Stepping into the shower, I quickly shampooed my hair, relishing in the feeling of the suds sliding down my back, the water washing them over my ass, the feel of them on my breasts, slippery and slick. I rinsed and then massaged in the conditioner. As I waited for that to, in theory, do it’s magic, I washed the rest of my body, caressing and teasing my breasts, nipples, stomach, thighs and ass with soap-slicked hands. My body temperature was rising, and the ever-familiar throb in my cunt became more pronounced. The afternoon’s activities, while in some ways satisfying, left me with even more hunger for your touch. But you were to be home soon, and there were still things to be done. I cooled down the water, and rinsed my hair. Getting out of the shower, I quickly dried off, before once again making my hair appear as it did earlier. Not one thing could be different about my appearance.

Walking into your bedroom, I smiled. I liked and enjoyed what I had done during the afternoon. I just hoped you wouldn’t be too displeased. I quickly rubbed moisturiser into my body, and slipped into the clothes I had laid out on the bed earlier. With one last flick of my nipples, I left the room to make sure everything was in place.

Walking through the apartment, I ticked off items on my mental list. Everything was ready. All that was needed now was for you to come home. And I can’t wait, I thought to myself, leaning over to ignite the oil burner.

– 3 –

By the time you get to your door, everything is in place. Inside, the hundred or so candles in their own special glass containers are lit, the oil burner fills the air with a sensual mix of scents, and I will be in your room. Waiting. But all of that is for you to discover.

You don’t know I am there. You are possibly still pushing your work day from your mind, or even thinking about what you will do to me, and with me, that night and over the weekend. You don’t suspect anything is different, until you arrive home and walk to your door.

On the front door is a large white envelope, addressed simply to N. Leading from it is a wide red ribbon, snaking beneath the door in invitation. You would take the envelope and open it, reading the note inside. It simply says Follow the ribbon.

You would unlock and open the door, instinctively reaching for the light switch, momentarily confused by the candlelight. A note card taped to the switch lets you know that I have taken care of everything, and the light is not needed. Maybe a small frown would cross your face at my impertinence, or maybe it would be a small smile of curiosity as you wondered what I was up to. Following the ribbon would take you first to the shower, the choice of jeans and shirt or your favourite robe waiting for you to slip into. Maybe you would shower or maybe just change, but afterwards, the ribbon takes you to the kitchen, where a fresh pot of coffee sits, as well as a silver ice bucket filled with chilled bottles of beer. A place card sits between them, inviting you to take your choice. There is also an arrangement of snacks for you to choose from, if it is your wish.

From the kitchen, you will be lead back to the living room. A note, attached to the ribbon, invites you to sit. Another on the remote controls invites you to play the tape that is in the VCR. You would sit back with your beverage of choice, turn on the television and hit play. It wouldn’t take you long to recognise the song playing through the speakers as one of your favourites. On screen, you can see your slave, kneeling on the floor in the same room in which you now sit, directly in front of the exact couch you are currently sitting on.

Slowly, she begins to move in time to the music, rising from the floor, swaying her hips in rhythm, twisting and turning, almost belly dancing. You may think of a concubine dancing for her master. Or just a slut enticing you to her bed. The visuals of her dancing are inter-cut with images of the red ribbon, leading away from the living room, letting you know that the journey hasn’t ended.

Back to her – dancing, moving as the music dictates. The ribbon weaves up the stairs like a snake. Her hands reach for her breasts, and you know she is only teasing her nipples with her index fingers, running them across the top, barely grazing the skin, before flicking and pinching and then cradling her breasts. She runs her hands down her body, and along her upper thighs and then back up, stopping at the top button of her blouse.

The camera follows the ribbon along the landing… you know where it’s heading. Back to your slave, who is now stripping away the clothes she is wearing, each button undone revealing pale skin and black lace beneath. Back to the ribbon, you know it is leading to your bedroom.

The music builds, and the images mingle.

Her shirt falls to the floor, the ribbon runs under your closed bedroom door.

Her skirt falls away, revealing more black lace underneath.

The bedroom door opens and the camera pans along the floor and then across the bed.

The song finishes and the image freezes on screen, a message overlays, before fading to black.

– 4 –

In the last image, you can see me there, my hair a riot of messy curls, my body clad only in a few skimpy pieces of black lace, lying on the bed, arms restrained above my head, waiting patiently
. One leg is bent, knee to the ceiling, in the name of comfort. The other is stretched out, inviting to be caressed. My ba
ck slightly arched to push my breasts higher. Through the lace, you can see my erect nipples, and on my face, a look of need; a look of desire; a look of longing and want; a look of submission.

Before the tape ends, you’ll once again see the words Follow the ribbon.

The red ribbon that leads from the living room, up the stairs, and under the door to your bedroom, to the room where I lay in the video, lace clad, nipples erect, hands bound, awaiting your pleasure.

Follow the ribbon.

– 5 –

“You’ve had a busy afternoon, slave.”

I didn’t hear you as you made your way up the stairs. I had no idea you were there at your bedroom door until you had spoken. My heart did the oh-so-familiar slow back flip – love, trust and longing swelling inside me.

“Yes, Master.” I tried to hide the small smile of satisfaction, but I’m sure it showed anyway.

“It was a pleasant surprise to see that you’d prepared so much.”

“I hoped you would be pleased, Master.” I kept my gaze on the ceiling, no matter how much I wanted to see your face, to see in your eyes the pleasure my actions had created. At least, I hoped you were pleased, and that my actions had not met with disapproval. I had never entered your apartment without permission before, and I was still unsure if this was a transgression of my role.

“Almost, slave. I am almost pleased.” I can hear you step further into the room, walking towards where I lay. The mattress shifts slightly with your weight as you move onto the bed. I swallow, my mind whirling with what could have displeased you. Was it that I danced and stripped without your permission? Danced and stripped in front of someone other than my Master? Or had I forgotten something else?

I can feel your body heat as you kneel over me, your hands on either side of my outstretched arms. I can see your eyes, and the look of approval, amusement and desire glinting within. Slowly you lower your head and capture my lips with a sweet kiss. “There’s just one little thing wrong.”

“I am sorry, Master.” I drop my eyes from yours in shame. I hate displeasing you. If only I could remember what it was. Did I choose the wrong song? Did that song have another meaning for you and you never wanted your slave to perform to it? What could it be?

You chuckle, and caress my cheek. “Look at me.” I raise my eyes, and see that your amusement has increased. “You weren’t to know,” you say as you kiss me again and lower your body onto mine. I moan slightly at the feel of your jeans on my naked thighs, the heat from your body emanating through the denim. Your tongue delves into my mouth, claiming, as you run your hands up along my arms to undo the wrist cuffs.

Holding my hands in yours, you move my arms to my sides, before releasing my lips to enable your own to trail along my jaw and down my throat, burning the skin with desire and leaving an invisible brand. I arch my back as your tongue lays claim to first one nipple and then the other through the lace, your hands sliding beneath me to release the clasp. Slowly, tenderly, you slide the straps from my shoulders and down my arms, before tossing aside the garment. Your hands again caress, your thumbs moving just below my now taut nipples, teasing just enough to make me want to move, to make me want more, which of course was your intention.

You move your mouth along my stomach, your hands moving down as well. Your tongue traces circles and patterns across my abdomen, my stomach, on my hips, before you place your mouth onto the lace covering my cunt. I can feel your tongue stroking me through the cloth, and I raise my hips – wanting more as always. Again, your hands move beneath me, squeezing my ass, fingers kneading, pressing into my flesh, lifting me higher, and pressing me against your mouth.

Kneeling, you lower me back to the bed, running your hands along my outer thighs to my knees, when you moved your hands slightly, running the palms down along the back of my thighs, your fingers caressing me lightly. You reverse the motion, moving along the backs of my legs before running your hands up my outer thighs, and then beneath the lace of my panties and pulling them down slowly. I raise my hips again to assist you. You lean forward, gently probing your tongue between my lips to slowly lick against my clit once. Absently, I noticed that the black lace panties had joined the matching bra on the floor. I couldn’t remember you finally removing them; I wanted more of your mouth. Which, of course, you denied me.

Again, you position your body against mine. I can feel your erection pressing through your jeans, increasing my heat of longing. You kiss me deeply again, before raising your head and looking deep into my eyes.

“You weren’t to know, slave,” you say, your voice deep with arousal and more. “I prefer my presents gift-wrapped.”

Suddenly, my vision was filled with red as you placed the ribbon over my eyes. Before I am blindfolded, I can see that you have made two rolls with the ribbon. I had bought 50 metres, giving me more than enough to weave through your apartment, and obviously more than enough for whatever you had in mind. I feel your breath against my ear as you whisper. “Especially with a big red bow.”

At your prompt, I raise my head, allowing you wrap the ribbon behind my head, crossing it before bringing it back around, slowly moving the rolls to caress my shoulders and the top of my breasts. The lengths of ribbon cross at my breastbone, where you hold them with one hand, the other gently sliding under my back, lifting me. The ribbon runs beneath my breasts, the edge scraping my skin. You wrap the ribbon around my stomach and waist twice, both times holding the rolls against my skin as you slide your hand beneath me to guide.

I feel you place one roll in my hand, silently requesting me to hold it, as you take the other and start wrapping the fabric around my leg, starting at my hip and working your way down, your hands caressing my legs as you move to my foot. I feel you rub the roll against my instep, and I involuntarily pull my leg back a bit. You rarely resist tickling my feet, chuckling since you know that I cannot stop from moving when you do, no matter how hard I try. You cross the ribbon over itself as you move back up my leg, caressing my thigh as you move, and briefly running your hand over my cunt, a solitary finger slipping between the folds of flesh to quickly tease my clit.

Once done, you place the roll in my hand, before repeating the process with my other leg, stroking, caressing, tickling. Occasionally, I feel you tug at the ribbon, as if making sure the positioning was perfect. Eventually, both rolls of the ribbon are in my hands and I feel you shift on the bed. I feel your fingers move along the top of my feet, lightly across skin and fabric up the length of my legs, your tongue following one leg and then the other. Softly, you touch my inner thighs. Your touch, constant and warm, increased my arousal. Just having you near was enough to arouse me; having you this close was pure torture.

Moving slowly, you knelt over me, your knees on either side of my thighs. You took the rolls of ribbon from my hands, and asked me to lift myself up a bit. Crossing the ribbon behind me, you brought the rolls over my shoulders, before wrapping my arms as you did my legs, licking and sucking my fingers as you worked, spending a few minutes to caress my palms with your tongue. Reaching my shoulders, you rubbed the rolls over my nipples again, before taking the rolls to my cunt. You move carefully, making sure the ribbon is positioned neatly over my lips, holding them apart slightly. You slide one hand again beneath my ass, lifting me up so you could position the ribbon between my ass cheeks.

By now, you had used a lot of the ribbon to decorate my body, but there was enough of the rolls left to press into my back as I laid on them. Working by touch, you sli
pped the rolls beneath the ribbon already wrapping my body, before again wrapping it around my waist
. Your fingertips tickle lightly, and I gently squirm, making you chuckle. You have told me on a number of occasions how you like to tickle, and watch me to try get away from your fingers. It was one time, you said, that you didn’t mind me disobeying you. But now, the wrapping of ribbon constricted my movements slightly, the fabric tugging in unfamiliar ways.

Your hands move across my stomach, moving. I can hear the fabric scrape against itself, and I can guess that you’re tying a knot, and I can feel the slight pressure against me. I can hear the ribbon more, and can feel it tug as you work. Eventually, your weight shifts on the bed, and you get off, leaving me there, bound.

“Well, my slave. Don’t you look pretty all trussed up.” I can hear you smiling as you speak. “It’s a pity you can’t see it.”

Again, I feel your hands on my body, adjusting the ribbon slightly here and there. You trail your fingers across my nipples, teasing; stroking along my body to my wet cunt. I can feel your hands stroking the wet ribbon at my cunt.

“Don’t move.” With one final caress to my hot, wet and wanting cunt, I hear you leave the room.

– 6 –

“Good girl. You didn’t move.”

Your voice is laced with good humour. You are in a good mood. I smile to myself – I like it when I please you. I hear you walk into the room, and then the soft thuds of various items landing on the bed beside me. I wonder briefly what you had brought with you, but knew I’d find out soon enough.

Fabric scrapes across fabric. The ever-familiar sound of your jeans landing on the chair tells me that you are undressed. Then the sounds stop. I cannot hear you move in the room, I am once again in an almost senseless world.

Click. Whirr.

“I’m not sure what is more provocative, slave. Watching you dance.” Click. Whirr. “Or seeing you still and bound.”

Click. Whirr.

Your voice is all around me as you move about the bedroom. I know what you are doing, and I blush from your unseen action.

Click. Whirr. “You’ll have to help me decide later, slave.” Click. Whirr.

You know that I know you’re taking photos. There was a new film in the Polaroid, and from your movements, I was guessing you were going to shoot them all. You chuckle as my blush deepens. I hate my photo being taken, especially when I was naked, or near to it as I was now.

“I love how your legs look – pale skin against red satin. Diamonds of flesh.”

Click – another photos. Move. Click. Whirr.

The bed shifts as you move onto it.

“Flesh peeking everywhere.”

Click. Whirr.

You move to kneel over me. Your body above my own, knees at my waist, your weight resting on me.

“Hmm. Your breasts look good. Hidden yet revealed.” Click. Whirr. You hadn’t touched me, but my nipples hardened as if you ran your fingers over them. Again, you chuckle. Click.

“Even better, slave. Thank you for the good shot.” Whirr.

I can feel the heat on my face deepen, my blush growing.

“But I love your face. Especially now. The ribbon, your lips, your cheeks.” Click. “All matching.” Whirr.

“All in all, it’s a very nice ensemble.” You run a fingertip along the bridge of my nose.

“Very, very nice.”

I can feel you leaning across, and hear you put the camera on the bedside table. Then you moved to get comfortable, lying on top of me. I can feel your growing erection pressing against me and absently I raise my hips against you.

“So. Now that I have my present, what ever will I do?” You are whispering now, your voice deep in arousal.

“You know best, Master,” I whispered in return.

“Hmmm. I could fuck you. Would you like that, slave?” You press down onto me, spreading my legs gently, slowly, allowing your thigh to rub slightly against my cunt. I feel you tongue through the ribbon, wetting and teasing first one nipple and the other.

With a silent moan, I replied “Yes, Master, please.”

Your lips begin to trail down my body, kissing over both fabric and flesh. “We shall see.”

– 7 –

I sighed and stretched, opening my eyes. Through the slightly parted curtain I can see the sky begin to lighten and outside the birds start to stir. Turning my head slightly, I can see you sleeping peacefully, your jaw shadowed with a night’s growth of beard. We had managed to make it back to the bedroom a few hours earlier, both exhausted from the night’s activities. A smile crosses my lips in remembrance of what you did to me, and what I had done in return.

I look about the lightening room, remembering how I thought this was where the night’s actions would take place. In some ways I was right, but in the majority I was wrong, oh so pleasantly wrong. My gaze is captured by a shadow on the floor near the chair, something out of place. Silently, I move from the bed to see what it is. Picking it up, I stood closer to the window, the weak morning light allowing me to see what I held.

A Polaroid photo of a slave bound in a red ribbon, lying on the bed, her pale flesh framed, sectioned by the fabric. The material made darker at the junction of her thighs by her own fluids. A slave bound on the bed waiting for her Master’s pleasure. My body reacted to the site, remembering how it was the night before, remembering your touch, the sound of the camera and what happened after.

“Jess?” Your voice is soft, and husky from sleep. I smile and look over to see you watching me; your head propped up on one hand. “While I love watching you stand near that window, if you don’t get back into this bed, I’m not going to be very happy.”

I cross the room, and gladly slide back into the warm bed, snuggling against you, the photo still in my hand. As I press my back against you, my head resting on your arm, you take the photo from me, and then reach behind you to switch on the lamp. You hold the photo in the light so we both can see.

“You looked good.” You nuzzle my neck, your beard prickling my skin. “You still do.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you. Did I say that last night?” You toss the photo towards the bedside table and miss. I can feel you shrug as it lands on the floor.

Turning my head, I kiss you lightly. “Yup. You most certainly did.”

You kiss the tip of my nose before pulling me closer. “Good. That saves me telling you again. Go to sleep.”

I inhale your scent, relaxing my body further against yours, feeling warm and safe in your embrace. With a smile on my lips, I remember how you had thanked me earlier in the night, I drift off again into sleep.

– 8 –

“What shall I do to you, slave?” You are lying on me, your hands tracing the path of the ribbon along my arm and thigh. Your lips and tongue play in the diamonds of flesh on my stomach, your thigh rubbing against my cunt.

“You know best, Master,” I say again, gasping as your thigh presses against me again. Your mouth moves up my body, tongue trailing along my throat and jaw before tracing the outline of my lips. You kiss me once, deeply, then suddenly push yourself away.

I can hear you moving around the bedroom again, and then your hands suddenly lifted a section of the ribbon on my stomach as you placed something cold against my skin. I knew what it was – you had collected the photos and placed them there, for safe keeping, I guess. One arm slid beneath my knees, the other under my back and you lifted me. “Come slave,” you whispered in my ear. “You have a decision to make.”

You carry me from the bedroom and down the stairs, gently standing me and guiding my hands to the back of the couch. The ribbon shifts, settling further down my body, threatening to release the photos. You take them, and I can feel you move away. I can hear you in front of me, and then move around the room, eventually coming bac
k to stand behind me.

You adjust the position of my body so I’m bent from the hips, legs spread for support, my arms stretched out along the back of the couch, my head facing the seat. Your hands slid
e down the outside of my legs as you kneel behind me.

“You have a decision to make, but to be able to make that decision, you have to be able to see.” I can feel something cold on my calf, and then hear the snip of the scissors as you cut through the ribbon.

“For you to be able to see, you must be unwrapped.” Snip. “Now, some people carefully unwrap their presents, gently so as not to rip the wrapping.” Snip. Pieces of the ribbon fall to the floor at my foot. You move to my other leg, cutting up to match the other side.

“Others are greedy, and tear into their gifts. I guess they consider the wrapping just a barrier to what’s hidden underneath.” Snip. Snip. The metal is cool against my flesh, and after you have cut to the top of my thighs, you carefully run the closed blades over my hot cunt, making me gasp.

Sliding the flat of the scissors over my ass and up along my back, you step closer to me, your erection pressing against my ass. You start again with one of my hands.

“I guess they don’t get the idea that gift-wrapping can be a work of art.” Snip. “Something to be admired, appreciated.” Snip. Finishing with one arm, you move to the other. “And with something delicate, you should take your time, and use something to assist you.” Snip.

“But the real idea with gift wrapping is to take your time. Slowly uncover what you’ve been given. Discover it, piece by piece. Appreciate each little sight. Tease your senses.” You rub your cock against me as you bring the scissors down along my back. “Revel in what you’ve been given as you slowly reveal it.”

I can hear the slight whisper of fabric hitting the floor as you cut the rest away from my body. You stop before the piece blindfolding me is allowed to fall away, moving to clear up the pieces already cut. I can feel you kneeling between my legs again, hands gently removing the fabric at my cunt and ass, and then your lips against me, tasting, your tongue flicking out to tease my clit. You stand again, and you place your tongue at the cleft of my ass before moving upwards along my spine.

“As you can see, I’m one who appreciates my gifts, and I like taking my time to unwrap them.” Your hands traverse the length of my body, from hips to breasts, teasing the nipples now free from the ribbon. My cunt is throbbing with need, as your cock rubs against my clit, teases the entrance. My hips move, wanting to feel you inside me. I feel, as well as hear, your chuckle. “All in good time, pet. You’ve got a decision to make first.”

Gently, you pull away the last piece of ribbon, and I find my gaze filled with photos. You had arranged them on the couch so they would be the first things I saw. A full length shot of me fully bound, closer shots of my breasts and another of my face. The ribbon was bright against my skin, outlining each curve of my body.

“Nice view isn’t it, slave?”

“Yes, Master.” I couldn’t take my eyes from the photos. The woman looked so wanton, so sexy. I could hardly believe it was me.

You move from me to pick something up from the floor, before returning to your earlier position.

“Did you watch the video earlier, slave?”

“No, Master. There wouldn’t have been time, and it was for your pleasure alone.”

“Who helped you?”

“Mitchell.” I can hear your pleased tone, and I knew I had made a good choice in choosing Mitchell. He was a mutual friend and, more importantly, gay. Gently, you tug on my hair, pulling my head up as you turn the TV on. I can hear the remote land nearby on the couch, followed by the remote for the VCR after you press play.

The song playing is one of your favourites. On screen, you can see your slave, kneeling on the floor in the same room we are in now, directly in front of the exact couch you are pressing me against.

“I had hoped it was. Or Kiara.” Your hands move back to my hips as the woman on screen begins to move in time to the music, rising from the floor, swaying her hips in rhythm, twisting and turning, almost belly dancing.

Your hand slides between my thighs, rubbing against my clit. My eyes partially close, but not completely. I was captivated by the woman on the screen. The visuals of her dancing are inter-cut with images of the red ribbon, leading away from the living room.

“Watching this, watching you aroused me, slave. Wanted to make me fuck you. That was your plan, wasn’t it?”

The woman on the screen dances, moving as the music dictates. The ribbon weaves up the stairs like a snake. Her hands reach for her breasts, and you know she is only teasing her nipples with her index fingers, running them across the top, barely grazing the skin, before flicking and pinching and then cradling her breasts.

“I hoped so, Master.” My nipples tightened further in memory, and I was breathing fast, from both what you were doing, and from watching what I had done that afternoon. Your cock is teasing, sliding through my wet cunt.

She runs her hands down her body, and along her upper thighs and then back up, stopping at the top button of her blouse.

“I wanted to fuck you then. Hard and fast.” Your hand stops teasing, you cock poised at the entrance. “But now, I just want to thank you.”

Back to your slave on screen, who is now stripping away the clothes she is wearing, each button undone revealing pale skin and black lace beneath.

You slide into me, slowly, both of us gasping at the sensation. You withdraw, before filling me again. I press against you.

The music builds, and the images mingle. I moan, my orgasm building as you continue to move within me. Her shirt falls to the floor; her skirt falls away, revealing more black lace underneath. Your hand returns to my clit, rubbing, pressing, flicking. In the video, the bedroom door opens and the camera pans along the floor and then across the bed.

“So to thank you, you get to have what you want, as you want it, when you want it. Take whatever you want, Jess.”

The song finishes and the image freezes on screen, a message overlays, before fading to black, but neither of us notices as I pull my body away from you. It was one of the most difficult things I had ever had to do. Turning, I lean against the couch and look at you.

“Anything?”

“Of course.”

“Love me.”

You step towards me, cradling my face in your hands and gently kiss me, whispering “Always.”

Deepening the kiss, you lift me again and carry me around to the other side of the couch, laying me down onto the floor before lying beside me. Softly, you pull me towards you, my leg sliding along yours to rest on your hip. Your hand runs along my thigh, before once again finding my cunt. As your thumb teases my clit, you slip two fingers inside me, rubbing against my G-spot, making me moan.

I roll onto my back as my body begins to spasm, your mouth finding my breast to suck and nip. My hips buck as wave after orgasmic wave crash through me.

My breathing eventually slows, and I kiss you deeply. “Thank you.”

“No, love. I’m thanking you tonight. For everything.”

You move over me, and gently fill me again. I wrap my legs around your hips and pull you close. “Everything?”

I match your thrusts as you lean down to kiss me. “Yup. Everything.”

The night had just begun.