They exchanged numbers, but she had no intention of calling him, she’d never chased a man in her life and didn’t intend to make an exception for this one. He was old enough to be her father. In an agony of mixed emotion, she got undressed, noting the grass stains on the skin of her arse, the stockings and panties were ruined, but she was hopeful that the blouse and skirt could be salvaged.
Later, soaking in the bath sipping a nightcap, things didn’t seem quite as dreadful as they had at first. It was Sunday tomorrow; she could stay in bed until late and rethink her behaviour. She dumped the clothes strewn on the bed onto the floor to join the others, took a sleeping pill, and nestled under the quilt.
The next morning she was woken by the ping of an incoming text. With no idea of the time, she blinked, groggy with sleep at the bright illumination of the tiny screen.
You were magnificent last night, can I see you today? said Matthew’s message.
Instantly alert, she pinged back. Of course.
So much for playing hard to get, she thought while brushing her teeth, anxiously awaiting his reply with the arrangements.
They agreed to meet at midday in the park. She dressed carefully in jeans, pumps, a long white shirt, and waistcoat. Her underwear, a lemon coloured bra and matching panties, trimmed with cream lace and embroidered with tiny deep yellow flowers, the delicate, pale pieces looked fresh and feminine after the siren effect of the black that she had worn previously. She approached the bench beside the duck pond, where he sat, with a picnic basket beside him.
“Hello, want to feed the ducks?” He held out a brown paper bag.
She took the bag and together they threw handfuls of bread into the water, masses of ducks of various sizes scrambled for the food in a frenzy of splashing.
“I enjoyed last night,” he said. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” he lied.
“I can’t believe what we did. It must have been the wine.”
They walked back to the bench, retrieved the picnic basket, and made their way to the edge of the park where there was a copse of trees. The promise of a warm day had been fulfilled; the trees would provide privacy and welcome shade from the sun, which was now at its height.
Accompanied by birdsong, and the gentle rustling of the trees, Matthew opened the basket and laid out a rug, he had packed an assortment of food, chilled Champagne and big, fat, juicy strawberries. Eleanor was impressed, she liked resourceful, thoughtful, men. Although this one was different, much older than her usual type, she was drawn to him, and relaxed as she sipped.
“Let me feed you.” He picked up a lush strawberry.
She parted her lips. He popped the fruit onto her tongue, and she bit down hard, the ripe berry exploded inside her mouth, leaning forward he touched his lips against hers to share the juice. She felt her cunt grow moist as she allowed him to feed her another, the sweet flavour enhanced by the crisp, sparkling wine. He pushed her back onto the rug and moved against her, kissing her passionately; she could feel his hardening cock touching her leg as she responded to his kisses. Reaching down together, they removed her jeans; he opened her shirt and gazed at the confection of underwear.
“Lovely,” he said, “don’t move.”
Smiling to herself, Eleanor kept still on the rug, which felt soft beneath her naked skin, cooling in the slight breeze.
Dipping his hand into the basket, he produced a long feather. Using the tip, starting at the base of her throat and travelling between her breasts, he slowly drew a long line down her body. He paused at her panties, tapping the feather against the sheer cloth.
“Take them off,” he commanded.
Helplessly, Eleanor obeyed.
“Open your legs,” he said, moving the tip of the feather over the top of her trimmed bush, tickling the opening of her cunt, causing her to squirm.
Kneeling between her legs, he used his left hand to open the lips of her cunt, holding the feather in his right; he slowly inserted it until she could feel it high up inside her. Encouraged by her small squeal of pleasure, Matthew began turning the feather around and around so that it tickled the inner walls of her cunt. She arched her back while he relentlessly rotated the feather, he could sense her determination to get a hand to her clit, and it was clear that she wanted to masturbate, desperate to come.
“Keep your hands by your sides,” he ordered, working on her, drawing the feather slowly out of her cunt and reinserting it, pausing to release his cock from its confinement, he held it firmly in his other hand.
“Raise yourself up and open your eyes.”
Obeying him, Eleanor rested on her elbows, watching him masturbate as he continued to use the feather on her.
“Touch yourself.”
Thrilled to oblige, she reclined, moved her fingers down towards her aching clit as he slowly trailed the soaking feather back up her body pushing the tip of it into her mouth for her to taste while they masturbated.
“Do you want me inside you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she gasped, throbbing with lust, the lingering taste of her cunt on her tongue.
“Beg me.”
“Please fuck me, Matthew, please, I want you inside me now.”
He entered her with one hard thrust, the feather falling to the ground beside her head; she kept her fingers on her clit masturbating as he pushed into her harder and faster. She could feel her orgasm approaching as she touched her clit using small, circular caresses with one hand, clutching the back of his neck with the other, and his skin felt hot to her touch. She reached orgasm in the few seconds before he shot his spunk into her with a grunt of satisfaction. Spent, his cock softened and slipped out of her cunt, followed by a rush of cum, which soaked the inside of her thighs.
Pouring the last of the Champagne into their glasses, Matthew quietly toasted her before tidying everything away. Walking back the way they had come, they headed to their respective homes, arranging their next meeting as they parted. She had invited him to dinner at her place for the following evening and was already looking forward to it as she hurried home, flushed from sex and Champagne.
Goodness knows how I’ll do a day’s work tomorrow she thought as she let herself into her house, she had a shift which she wouldn’t be able to swap, the hospital was understaffed as it was. She had better press her uniform tonight, she wouldn’t have time the next day before early turn, and at least she’d be home by four, which would leave plenty of time to prepare. The answerphone was flashing, but she couldn’t be bothered to check it, that’ll wait until tomorrow she decided as she ran her nightly bath.
The next day, Eleanor arrived home from work laden with shopping, determined to cook a fabulous meal. She had no time to lose, Matthew was due at eight, and she hadn’t even started. First, she laid the table, it looked pretty, covered with a crisp, white cloth, and she placed a colourful bunch of small, scented flowers in a silver bowl at the centre of the table. A matching pair of silver bowls filled with perfumed water, and floating candles stood on either side of the centrepiece. She set the house lights low; the soft light enhanced the impact of the overall effect. The answerphone was still blinking, displaying the legend, 3 messages, but with no time to check it, it would have to wait. If it was urgent, there was always her mobile, but she hadn’t heard it ring or ping so whatever it was couldn’t be important.
She busied herself with the meal, Horiatiki salad with warm rolls to start. Eleanor liked to use recipes that she could prepare in advance, which needed minimum attention. She had chosen to make her signature dish of luscious, hearty Irish stew for the main course; it could be left to bubble for ages and still tasted superb. For dessert, a slightly more risky Pavlova, which she’d decided to chance, if it went well it would be a triumph and she felt confident as she bustled around putting the final touches together.
Happy that everything was under control in the kitchen, Eleanor went upstairs and changed into a stunning purple dress with a plunging neckline that di
splayed her firm, round breasts. She didn’t bother with a bra, but wore a waspie of the same hue, decorated with black embroidered flowers, fastening the suspenders onto black stockings. She chose sheer black panties, which displayed her pale arse cheeks through the semi-transparent cloth, completing the look with high, black patent stilettos and a pair of jet earrings. Leaving her hair tumbling in soft curls around her shoulders, checking her reflection, Eleanor was satisfied with the overall effect and went downstairs to make sure that everything was under control.
He arrived punctually carrying a small holdall and a huge bouquet of flowers.
“I’ve been to the gym.” He indicated the bag, before handing her the exquisite blooms.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful. I do hope I’ve got enough vases to do them justice,” said Eleanor, making her way to the kitchen to put them in water.
“The food smells delicious,” he called after her.
Eleanor returned with cocktails, a Velvet Kiss for him with an extra shot of Gin and a Silk Stockings for herself. No need to mention the treble Tequila that she’d put into her own glass. She sat beside him, feeling a little nervous as she sipped her drink hoping it would hit the spot.
“This is for you,” he said, handing her a slim black box, “by way of a thank you for giving me so much pleasure over the last couple of days.”
It wasn’t Eleanor’s style to be twee about gifts, she loved receiving them. Her delight was obvious. She opened the box to reveal a stunning charm bracelet nestled on a bed of satin; it consisted of intricate, linked loops in white gold. Eleanor lifted it out, attached to one of the bracelet’s rings was a small charm.
“Thank you, Matthew. It’s exquisite. Help me to put it on will you?” She offered her wrist.
“I like these,” he said, fastening the clasp, indicating the loops of the bracelet yet to be adorned. “They have so much potential.” He sealed his words with a kiss, planted on the inside of her perfumed wrist.
Closer inspection revealed that the charm was a tiny, heart-shaped padlock.
“It’s fabulous, thank you, you’re too generous,” she said, kissing him warmly on the mouth.
The meal passed in a haze of lively, flirtatious conversation. Obviously an experienced player, he told her that he had been divorced for fifteen years, and she didn’t let on that she had already heard the gossip about the way his wife had left him.
Matthew didn’t seem bothered about the failure of his marriage and told her that it hadn’t been entirely unexpected. They had married young, had no kids and eventually grown apart. His career took him all over the world, he was away more often than not, his wife had grown bored, found someone else, and she had remarried quite some time ago.
Leaving out the salacious details, Eleanor explained that she didn’t like being tied down, had grown accustomed to spending time with a number of men. As a nurse at the military hospital, she met loads of different people, dates were never difficult to arrange, she lived life to the full, but she hadn’t been lying when she told him that the experience they had shared after the dance was a first.
Listening to her speak, Matthew quietly calculated how far he could take her sexually, wondering how far she would be prepared to go.
Leaving the dining table, moving over to the squashy sofa, Eleanor carried the coffee, mints, and brandy to the low table in front of their seats. She sloshed a generous amount of liquor into the coffee finishing off with a glug of cream.
“To imaginative games.” He raised his cup to her in a toast.
She echoed the sentiment as they sipped. The intoxicating heat of the coffee tasted fantastic through the cool of the cream, and she felt the fire of the brandy racing through her veins.
“Do you mean it?” he said. “Imaginative games can be challenging and fun, but they can also bring the unexpected. Are you prepared to trust me, Eleanor?”
Alert to the changed atmosphere now charged with expectation, Eleanor was silent for a moment as she formulated her reply; knowing that she needed to answer carefully.
“The truth is that I’m not terribly sure,” she said. “I know it seems silly, but I’ve been curious about whether the two men who appeared in the grounds of the base on the first night were there by chance, or if you actually set me up? As I said earlier, I’ve never done anything like that before, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“You’re stunning, Eleanor. You’re classy, and you have guts and style. I like that in a woman,” he replied, avoiding the question.
She remained silent.
“Would you like me to show you some of the things that I like women to do? Would you like to try a little game with me now?”
Taking a massive gulp of her spiked coffee, Eleanor nodded; her eyes sparkled from the effects of the alcohol, her cheeks flushed with anticipatory colour.
Putting his drink down, Matthew took hers from her, placed them both out of the way on the table, and pulled her across his lap all in one fluid movement. Without further warning, he lifted her dress up to her waist. She had already started to writhe, excited but bewildered. She wasn’t used to this sort of treatment.
Suddenly, he brought the flat of his hand down with incredible force smacking her arse soundly three times in quick succession and striking her arse cheeks in exactly the same place, the noise was astonishing. By the time the last contact was made between palm and arse, the stinging was intense, and she yelped with pain.
Nevertheless, to her amazement, she felt her cunt moistening with lust, her juices flooding her panties.
“Stop, Matthew. Please, stop. It hurts.”
“I know that you love it, I can feel your wet cunt,” he replied, pulling down her panties, inserting a finger into her from behind.
Writhing as he fingered her with one hand, holding her down across his knees with the other, her body pressed firmly into his lap so that she could feel his hard cock against her through the scratchy material of his jeans. Eleanor’s arse bucked when he began smacking again, the blows were severe, he grunted with exertion each time his hand made contact with her soft skin.
“Still hurting, or do you like it now?” he paused for a moment, “how does it feel to have the palm of my hand stinging your cute little arse?”
“It truly hurts, Matthew.” Eleanor was breathless, wriggling on his lap, which only served to heighten his excitement.
“You need further training,” he said, bringing his hand down mercilessly.
“Say, ‘thank you’,” he ordered. “Every time I hit your arse, I want you to say ‘thank you’. If you don’t, I’ll smack you much, much harder.”
Eleanor felt a shiver of fear, mixed with the warmth of elation, she could do this she thought, but she was all over the place and reeling with pain.
“Thank you,” she murmured as his hand found its target again with a loud smack.
She had lost count of the number of times that he’d struck her, “thank you,” she said again and again, increasingly louder. He seemed tireless, beating her burning arse.
“Ow!” Eleanor bucked up beneath his hand and he stopped to remove her panties, which had tangled at her knees hindering his progress.
“You don’t sound enthusiastic enough, say, ‘thank you, that’s wonderful, Matthew’, say it like you mean it, and count. Count the smacks,” he growled, bringing his hand down again three times in quick succession.
Flooded with adrenaline and warmed with the intensity of the thrashing, Eleanor could feel her cunt getting wetter, the warmth from her glowing arse cheeks started to travel through her veins. Her head was spinning, and she could feel the first tentative tingling of an orgasm building within her.
Eleanor shouted out, “One, ahh, two, ahh, three, ahh. Thank you, oh, Matthew, thank you, thank you, please, please don’t stop.”
Without ceremony, he stopped, tumbling her off his lap onto the carpet.
“Stay down there on your knees,” he said, openi
ng his fly and releasing his cock. “Suck it, and don’t stop until I tell you, or I’ll have to spank you again.”
Leaning forward, Eleanor took his hard cock into her mouth. Grabbing a fistful of her hair in one hand, he masturbated into her mouth with the other. She could taste the salty cream of his cum oozing from him, struggling to take him fully into her throat as he pushed her head down, she kept her teeth covered with her lips and completely enclosed his cock, accommodating him in the moist warmth, moving up and down mirroring the action of his hand on his shaft.
Using what little power she had, she gripped him firmly between her lips, she wanted to make sure that she didn’t snag him with her teeth, even though he deserves it, she thought as she felt the cheeks of her arse smarting. At least she managed to get a hand to her cunt so that she could rub her clit, which was aching with the need for relief while he continued masturbating, rubbing his cock harder and harder into her mouth.
“Get ready, I’m going to come,” he told her, pushing her head down onto his cock, shooting several spurts deep into her throat.
He held her head firmly onto him until she swallowed every last drop, before allowing her to flop down beside the settee, she had not been able to come herself, having been on the verge of orgasm when he shot his load.
“Wait there, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Motionless on the floor, reeling from the intensity of the last few minutes, she had lost track of time since he pulled her across his knees. Her cunt was still tingling, and she needed to come, but felt apprehensive when he disappeared into the hall. Goodness knows what he’s up to now she thought, and a small shiver goose-bumped her skin.
“Clear the table sweetheart,” he said, reappearing with his holdall. “I’ve got some things to show you. Take everything out into the kitchen except the candles. We can put them on the coffee table, the light is lovely, and they smell delightful too, though not as good as you.”
Past Present Page 2
