He takes a gamble. “I think we should go somewhere . . . more . . . private.” The cliché comes out measured, stolen from a James Bond movie. I suppress a laugh. I force my face to remain impenetrable. He wants to say it without saying, but there’s no words to neutralise everything. Time to be bold. My hand cuts under the table swiftly and smacks his thigh. Not quite a meaty slap, nor a dog patting gesture, it’s harsh enough to shut him up. He doesn’t yelp, fortunately, but lets his head hang down submissively. Playtime.
We pay for our drinks, or rather, I take pleasure in handling it all on the corporate credit card. I take his arm, march him swiftly in the direction of the club. Now I know about him, his character has totally changed, dog on a lead, weakling. No talking now. People imagine fetishists spend hours detailing the intricacies of their every whim, but that’s too boring, even for us. The real pleasure is that seamless, practically wordless encounter where you instinctively tune in to another’s desires.
We walk, hand in hand, the strong leading the weak. Raucous traffic passes us, on the anonymous stony streets with that grey, angry hard look that London manages to conjure everywhere. Wait a moment, is this the right way? Perhaps that was the wrong turn, I can’t look now at my A-Z. Have to keep up my end, already in role-play. Shit! A surprise Tesco Metro pops up. But the houses all look the same. Eddie is trying to act as if he will follow me to the ends of the earth, but I know it’s only feigned, he’s really waiting for his release, to ceaselessly come, or so it will feel. Shit! This is what happens when you meet out of the scene and then have to seamlessly pop back into it. But real people get lost. Sometimes.
My stomach dips and cramps, the effect of too much wine on an empty stomach. We lurch to a standstill, my heart bouncing dangerously, high heels tottering, I’m breathless and it’s not with sexual anticipation. “Stop,” I command him, pulling at his limp hand. Around us the street is featureless, like thousands of others. We stare at each other, it’s a surreal moment, unexpected. His eyes remain peaceful. A summer holiday feeling rushes through me. Even though I shouldn’t, my head dips and finds itself on his shoulder, for just a second it is an embrace. The clench is sweet, but feeling him so near wakens my natural instincts. I grab a clump of his hair, “Sort me a taxi, idiot!” I shout. I have to stop him almost getting run down in his haste.
In the obligatory black cab, I force his head close to my chest. My other hand searches for his cock, “Keep it down,” I whisper. A difficult manoeuvre, I know. The driver assumes it’s a lover’s drunken embrace, but Eddie is not allowed to see where he is going. He’s being probed and teased, my breasts providing a welcome blindfold.
We alight on a surprisingly rural street. It’s part of the area affectionately known as Little Venice, the genteel part that hides behind Camden Town. Eddie doesn’t seem familiar with the terrain. He’s distracted by the imposing fence that screens us from some kind of park. Perhaps he wonders if I will chain him there and leave him naked. Or imagines it might be the entrance to some mighty dungeon, which in a way, it is.
In the gathering twilight all is deserted. We might be the last human survivors in the world. His face takes on a breathless look of anticipation, I laugh and dig my fingers into his crotch. “You’re going to love this Eddie,” I tease him, half dragging him along the grassy border near the fence.
Quickly I find the weak point, a small tree that offers easy access over the metal fence. It feels delirious, swarming over it like spies, the lure of the illicit thrill goading us on. Landing on the soft grass, we’re inside. It’s a vast area, and he has no clue, but if Eddie is afraid of security cameras, he doesn’t let on. He’s not allowed to move freely. Within seconds I am on to him.
“Take off your clothes,” I shout, forcing him to strip quickly, leaving the clothes behind a tree. In the rising dark his slick baby skin shines obscenely in the light. This is much better than the club. My fingers run over his soft, pliable body, pull at his man-hair chest. He coos, loves it. He’s as unmarked as a new born babe.
“Down on all fours, do it.” His response time is impressive, he crouches instantly, showing me his rear end. I imagine the warm wind sucking at his body in all directions, the damp rest pad of the grass. It must feel beautiful. My breasts are twitching, getting turned on. I can’t resist smacking him a little. Whack, just a slight of hand, brisk, steady. But still the slap sounds ring out far in the night. He cries out. No one can hear us. Another one, and again. His bum cheeks are now a mottled red, I’m getting warmed up. Fit to bursting.
I slap the other side. Even it up. With my other hand I cup his genitalia, gentle but firm, inspecting, insisting. He has to trust me, completely. Bending down, I whisper seductively in his ear, “No, no, no cock yet, wait until I say.” His brain and body are in conflict, but he manages to prevent an ugly bulge from forming, for now. Tentatively, I rub my finger near his anus, but his anguished bucks ward me off. Understood, hand back to the cock massage that he dare not respond to.
His restrained excitement makes him look as if in shock, his face has gone slack, to that ageless state of oblivion, the relaxed glaze of car crash victims. But his mind and body are open, feeling all of it. My hands are all over him pressing, encouraging, mildly slapping. I’m careful to be firm but restrained. To overlap the slap zones each time, often to alternate to the other buttock, to reach lower near the anus area, to daringly trip the sex nerves. I take pains to distribute the slaps equally, knowing full well that when one side of the body wriggles with pain, the other side anticipates such trauma with double the exaltation. He’s excited, but confused. My hands are sparkling. Both of us are hot now, sweating mildly, moisture from my excited vagina floods into my panties, it feels strangely dumb, to be so slicked up, as if I have wet myself without telling anybody. I restrain an overwhelming desire to hump his bare back there and then. Now we’ve got to the stage of two excited schoolchildren squirming and shuddering in the dark, it’s time to move on.
“Get up,” abruptly, without warning, I force him upright. Now we are experiencing almost total darkness. The distant lights of the houses show us only the direction of where we have come from. In front of us, something looms up, massive. Eddie must be feeling a flicker of dread now, along with the pleasure prickles. Still, he doesn’t hesitate. Faster, faster, now I have the advantage in my shoes, the grass must feel treacherous in his bare, unseeing feet. Another five minutes in the dark, and we are no longer alone. A strange heavy smell hangs in the air, rich as garden manure, the smell of gently rotting fruit. The sound of, what is it, a low growl is just becoming audible somewhere up on the right. Eddie’s shoulders are stiffening, shaking, but he dare not stop now. His penis has risen upright and is feeling his way into the night. For now, I ignore it.
Even in the dark, Eddie can sense some form of enclosure, a rough building. He’s trembling visibly; the shakes mimic, hideously, the throes of orgasm. He hasn’t spoken since we entered the park. Idly, it occurs to me that the cat has got his tongue. I suppress a wicked urge to laugh. A little further and we are about there. Eddie tentatively puts out his hands wildly. He strikes something and cries out gently. It must be here. I take out a lighter from a pocket. The silence is breathtaking. Whoosh, the brilliant flame lights up, just for a moment, even I recoil at the terrifying sight of two pairs of huge glinting green eyes in front of us.
“Look at them!” I tell Eddie, who is perched uneasily just in front of what seems to be a cage. The tigers are awake, balefully perusing us, their treacherous paws hidden in the shadows. The darkness seems to melt away their cage, it feels as if they could spring at us and rip our throats open in a flash. The lighter goes out. I take my bag from Eddie and feel for the crop I know is waiting to be used inside.
I have candles available to me, but somehow it is more fitting to maintain the blackout. Eddie is now naked, in a strange place, trembling before two rare specimens of Bengal tiger. Surely the greatest thrill of his whole life. Now I’m about to crack the whip.
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First softness. Although he flinches when I stroke him sincerely with my hands, preparing his back and loins for the final onslaught. Still silence, although my mind sees the tigers wandering around in confusion, imagines their huge paws mauling us from their cage. And we are so close that one wrong move and it could go horribly wrong. I feel lethal with anticipation, as deadly as nitroglycerine. My pussy is swollen with anticipation, never have I felt so vital and vibrant, I’m longing to stick a finger into my pants and to masturbate, better still to get the slave to administer it for me. Not yet. I reach down and find his cock, it is hard, ready. I give it a last squeeze.
Whack, the crop sings through the air unexpectedly. Finds its easy target.
Eddie involuntarily cries out. A low snarl comes from directly in front of us.
Whack, whack, again, again. Now the sound of jumping and grinding claws fills our ears. Although the cage separates man and beast, the sound of their anger fills the night. And naked, defenceless Eddie stands in front of me, directly before the cage. One push and he’s dead meat. Our bodies are exhilarated, nerves stretched to the limit. This must be how it feels in the face of death, bodies super charged with blood and pounding energy. The floor vibrates from the pacing big cats, who seem to be circling round in confusion. I feel again for Eddie’s cock; it’s huge, he’s absolutely loving it. An animalistic fervour has overcome both of us. Eddie is involuntarily bucking his crotch nearer and nearer to the cage. Soon, he’ll feel the whiskers of one of the cats and its hot breath on his cock if he’s not careful. Playing out the ultimate sexual fantasy sure pushes you to the edge.
“Do you want me?” I try to whisper, seductively, but my own voice comes out breathless and jangling. Slapping is a breathless making activity. It must be a shock for him to hear a human voice, something more than a deep and labored panting. The tigers cry out impetuously, he shouts out, “Oh yes, oh yes,” and I pull him roughly round to me and push him to the ground. There’s a corresponding grind on metal, at least one of the tigers must be clawing at us through the cage.
After so much foreplay, getting him to lick my pussy is hardly an issue. I rip off my pants, toss them to the side and lower my throbbing, dilating pussy downwards. The tingling night air is delicious. I almost orgasm at the moment of entry, when my slicked-up sexuality meets his raw penis. Slowly I push myself onto it, feeling him moaning and squirming under me. I blank out the risks.
Even the sound of our pleasure as it bounces back at us is rendered exotic by the bizarre location. His cock feels so good, ooh, I force his head in the direction of the cage. Even in pitch darkness, their eyes shine out like glittering jewels. Our excitement enflames the tigers, who are now pawing and hissing at us in unison. Even if they got loose now, still we couldn’t stop. Pumping, down, down, down, my knees are really taking it, later I know that heat will turn to pain. Lean backwards, massage my clit just a bit deeper. It’s so amazing! We’re set to explode, I push my head back, feel the pleasure mounting and then, “Ooohhh,” my orgasm hurtles out of my mouth. I reach for him, sensing his pleasure.
I try to speak as normally as possible, in the circumstances. “Eddie, now you can come.” It’s too dark to find a condom, so I drag myself reluctantly off and take him in my mouth. His cock is an acceptable size, and tastes uncannily of my own juices. It occurs to me that sucking him so is not unlike licking my own pussy. Pump, pump, pump, just a few sucks and his sperm gushes into my mouth. I try to push away, but it’s over, trickling out of the sides of my mouth. I spit it unceremoniously onto the ground. I’m deliriously happy, my body feels weightless, non-human.
There’s no one there to see us, but just inches from the waft of dung, we lie content, oddly sprawled in front of the now quieted tigers, a woman dressed for a business meeting, loosely embracing a naked man. A half bottle of whisky finds its way out of my case and we toast the taste of ourselves off each other’s lips. The world of work and the sound of ringing telephones thousands of years away from us. I came here once to London Zoo for a wedding, now I’ve christened the place in my own distinctive way.
And so began my relationship with Eddie, the wild sexuality, uninhibited, afraid of nothing. Although I had no inkling of it then, my life was about to change. Leave me for now, a drowsy wild cat, sprawled out, uncaring, staring into nothing.
Regrets
M. Christian
Sitting on a chair, arms on the desk, fingers on the keyboard, words on the screen . . .
Sandy,
I never wanted this to happen. Please believe me. Every day since I met you ten years ago has been delightful. More than delightful, it’s been incredible. You are truly the most wonderful and extraordinary woman I have ever known, and I’m a weak and sniveling idiot for what I’ve done.
Seeing you the first time, when you were working the counter at the Kwiki Mart, I knew you were something special. Not only were you fantastically beautiful, but I could tell that silly, pointless job was just a step on the ladder for you, that you deserved not just to be the night clerk but also manager, or maybe district manager.
Even though I was with that slut Marsha, the moment I saw you I knew that there was a unique and powerful connection between us. When you gave me my change after getting us our hot dogs and two MegaGulps, I felt an electric-like spark between us when our hands touched. I knew right then that we were meant to be together.
I know it was rude of me to wait two weeks before coming back to the Kwiki Mart, darling, but to be honest with you I had spent all that time trembling with fear at seeing you again. I was terrified, you see, that perhaps you didn’t feel the same way about me, or that you’d see me for the quivering little boy that I am deep down inside.
But I had to see you again, so I risked it. So I got Earl and Frank – and you are so right, beloved, that Frank is a no-good fool who never has and never will amount to anything – to go with me, in case I should be too taken with fear and insecurity at being around you, and we went down to the Kwiki Mart. I know we all acted like idiots, Sandy, but it was all an act. I really didn’t mean to spill all that beer, or make fun of that stupid paper hat they made you wear. I really didn’t mean it when I said that you must have been a loser to be working in a place like that. It was all nerves, you see, because I knew, deep down in my heart, that you were the one woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
It was all a foolish game. All of it. The way I teased you, the insults, when Earl, Frank, and I grabbed the Coins for Cripples jar and pretended to steal it. It was all my way of trying to get to know the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
I’m sorry if I made you cry after we left. I was a rude and self-centered jerk. But I was scared, Sandy. I was terrified that you wouldn’t like or love me the way I loved you. It’s because I felt this way about you that I had to come back after dropping off Earl and that no-account Frank and see you again.
I can see it all like it just happened. I was in the parking lot, nervous and frantic with anxiety, putting on an act of calm by leaning against my car and smoking a cigarette. I must have been there for hours, though to you I’m sure it must have been only a few minutes. Finally, it was the end of your shift and you came out. There you were, my angel, a vision despite that stupid paper hat and ugly striped uniform. I have to tell you, darling, that even though you were hauling a big bag of stinking garbage over to the dumpster, I have never seen a more beautiful and sexy woman in my life.
It was all I could do to stand there and smoke my cigarette. I wanted to take you in my arms and sweep you away, carry you off, and make sweet love to you. I wanted to drop down to my knees and proclaim my eternal affection for you. I wanted all that and more, Sandy, but as I have said, I am a total fool and a complete idiot.
But I did manage to speak with you as you walked over to your car. I know I may have been gruff and rude to you, and for that I am very sorry, but in my heart what I said instead of “Hey, you look kinda hot” was “You are the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen.” And instead of “Wanna do it sometime?” what I meant was “I want to marry you and take you away from all this, treat you like the lovely woman you are, and shower you with diamonds.”
That first time, in the alley behind the Kwiki Mart, was magical. I know it should have been in a fancy hotel with champagne and roses on the bed, and you should have been in one of those Victoria’s Secret fancy lace panties and bra, but I was with you and that’s all that matters. I remember how beautiful you looked, even with garbage on your tennis shoes and that stupid paper hat on your head. Your eyes were dancing in the moonlight, looking like two gold beads and not like “cheap orange drink in a paper cup” like Marsha says.
It was one of my best times, much better than with any other woman in my entire life – which actually isn’t that many, even though I may have said different to Frank and Earl. I really am a simple and caring soul under my T-shirt and smelly old jeans. That’s what made our first time behind the Kwiki Mart so special, Sandy. I know I may have acted gruff and crude and all, using four-letter words when I suggested that you kneel down on the asphalt to perform oral sex on me, but that was just nerves again.
So many things I’m sorry for, Sandy. So many bad things I wish I’d had the courage and strength to do right with you. Like that first time. I wish I hadn’t been so gruff and rough with you, making you do things with your mouth, then pulling your jeans down, tearing a perfectly good pair of panties, and then putting my penis into you from behind. Even though I’m pretty sure you were having a pretty good time, it wasn’t the first time I wish it could have been. I’m also very, very sorry that I ejaculated inside you even though you had said that I shouldn’t.
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