by Destiny Moon
“Oh, baby, you’re just confused,” I soothed him. He would back down. There were other cocks out there. None like mine, we both knew…but still. I felt too tired to engage with what he’d said, so it just irritated me. Nothing kills hotness like talking about feelings. At least, when you don’t have them yourself.
I got up and started to get dressed.
“So that’s it?” Simon asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…”
“Oh, you think that giving me a blow job entitles you to one in return? Is that how you think it works?”
“No. Not that… What I said before…”
“What? You have feelings for me? You want me? You want me to let you fuck me? Jeez, Simon, you’re not one to speak your mind.”
“I just opened my heart to you.”
“Oh, come on. So you have a bit of a crush on me. So what?” I chose to downplay the whole thing. My buzz was shot. I felt a complete mental clarity, despite my still quivering cunt.
“It’s not just a crush, Julie. I love you. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, that’s not possible.”
“Of course it’s possible.”
“Fine. It’s not reciprocated.”
“Are you sure? I saw the way you looked at me before.”
“When?”
“When I was kissing your dick.”
“Kissing? I was gagging you with my cock. See? You and I are made up of different material, Simon. I like you, don’t get me wrong,” I said, and stopped myself from saying, ‘I like your mouth’. “But, realistically, I don’t think it’s possible for you to love me when you don’t even understand me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
His obsequious nature was too much for me to handle. I loved the feeling of it when we were fucking, but not afterwards. It couldn’t go on like this. He just wasn’t challenging enough.
“Give me another chance,” he pleaded, lying on the floor as I stood fully dressed and ready to leave the studio.
“Chance at what? You’re not making sense.”
“What I mean is… Don’t fire me. Let me stay. Forget what I said. Don’t worry about it. They’re my feelings. It isn’t your problem.”
“You’re right, Simon, it’s not my problem. I’m a busy woman. I have many things and people to tend to, so don’t expect me to pay you too much attention.”
“Anything you wish, Julie. I’ll do anything.”
“Fine. Get dressed. I guess the fitting went well. It isn’t at all too snug like you were afraid of. I think it’s just right.”
I handed Simon the limp harness for his finishing touches. “I’ll pick this up in a few hours,” I said, and he nodded in agreement.
I felt oddly guilty as I left his studio. Had I deceived him? Was it wrong of me to have been so predatory? Then I shook that thought from my head. What was wrong with it? He had wanted to suck my cock as badly as I’d wanted him to. If anything, he had deceived me. I’d thought it was just about the sex. I’d thought it was about my cock, my hardness, my irresistibility. Really, all along, it was about his feelings. But what did he expect would come of that? It made me mad to think of how presumptuous he had been. How utterly selfish. Those were his feelings that he was unloading on me. I didn’t ask him for them. They were extremely ill-timed. I had just given of myself. How dare he disrupt my post-coital bliss with his inconvenient declarations? What on earth was I to do with that?
Oh, it made me angry. I decided that, while Hal was away, I would fire Simon. It didn’t much matter whether or not they were having relations. If they were, Simon could come back for that purpose. Either way, I would need a new and better tailor. This was ridiculous. I had enough to see to already. I had a wedding to plan. At the very least, I concluded, I had a wedding to attend. I didn’t need some passive aggressive barnacle on me. I didn’t need his manipulative ways.
My mind was made up. I went to my room and took a nap. I needed to recover. I woke up with a distinct feeling, a hard-on. I needed to feel my harness up against me again. I was virile and ready to go. I wanted to fuck more than ever.
At four, as planned, Simon came to Strawberry Hill. When I walked into my room, he had his back to me, looking out of the window. He was stretching his neck as if he had been hunched over for quite a while. A beautiful black gown was lying on my chaise longue. I walked towards him, startled him, and he turned to me.
“I didn’t see you come in,” he muttered.
“What’s this?” I headed for the dress immediately. It was lovely. Raw silk, with an opening down the back. Slightly darker silk laces created a corset effect. It was stunning.
“I made that for you.”
“When?”
“I’ve been working on it for a while.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Try it on. Oh, and, about earlier, I apologise. It wasn’t my place to say anything. Obviously nothing can happen between us. You’re almost married and I… Well, I work for you…and your husband.”
Ordinarily that kind of reasoning irritated me. Love has nothing to do with such shallow definitions of who we are and how we’re able to relate to each other, but I didn’t think telling him that would help.
“I’m glad you figured it out, Simon. It would be wrong for us to continue this.” I was calm, collected and professional about it. I have always believed that diplomacy is one of the most important characteristics a person can develop. It shows refinement, manners and maturity. I was proud of myself for my conduct. I just wasn’t proud of the fact that I secretly wanted to know what it felt like to penetrate Simon’s ass with my cock. I suppose it was wrong of me to have those feelings and simultaneously let him believe that we were rigidly separated by titles.
I guess that is always the case when morality enters into the realm in which it does not belong. Sexuality, they say, is instinctual. I disagree. I think that with enough questioning and sincerity, one can become a finely tuned machine of innate sexual desires, but never without taking into account how that very sexuality has been taken from us time and again. And here was Simon taking another unnecessary precaution. I didn’t have a moral issue with us fucking. Hal didn’t, either. It was Simon who was incapable of detaching himself from reading a whole lot more into it. It was tragic. We could really have enjoyed each other. Maybe it was worth trying for. I was smitten with his pedantic attention to detail. He was the perfect tailor and could be the perfect lover. With that knowledge, I set out to enjoy his boyish charms. I wanted to at least have a little practice before unleashing my giant cock on Hal. I needed the training.
“Simon.” I called him the following day. “I need you for a little project.”
“Sure, Julie, when would you like to see me?”
“Two o’clock. Your studio,” I said. It was that easy. And that difficult.
Chapter Thirteen
I wasn’t entirely sure what I had in mind with Simon, except that I wanted to see him more, even though I understood it would most likely result in devastation. He didn’t matter that much to me. That is one of those truthful declarations that good people would look down upon, but it was true. Still, he was the perfect boy toy, the ideal distraction from a wedding I was becoming increasingly anxious about.
“Hello, darling.” I propped myself up on some pillows on Simon’s single bed, which he kept in his studio. I had become quite fond of my sojourns into town to visit Simon. I was wearing a flirty chiffon scarf, which I tossed about me like a movie star. He was obviously taken aback. The poor guy. We were probably about the same age, but I felt older.
“Uh. Hello.” He fumbled as he sat down on the simple wooden chair next to the bed. “I’m surprised to see you so soon or, rather, I’m surprised you wanted to see me so soon.”
“Soon? Darling, you’re the best tailor I know. How could I live without you?” I did my best to feign delicate mannerisms. My theatrical debut was over the top. “S
imon, I need you to do something for me.”
“And what might that be, Julie?”
“I need you to fuck me.”
He coughed and turned scarlet. Then he smiled. Then he looked around, loosening his collar. This boy was awkward.
“Oh, come on, dear. Is this going to be a problem for you?”
“Um… Well… I told you I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“Oh, that. Well, get over it.”
“Julie, it’s not something you just get over.”
“Don’t lecture me about love, Simon. This is professional. I want to know what the jade cock feels like. It’s important to me. I trust you to do it right.”
“Wait a minute. Fuck you with the jade cock?” He looked baffled.
“Yes. My cock. I want my cock.”
He was puzzled. He shook his head and seemed insulted.
“Oh, don’t sulk,” I said. “I’ll let you use your cock, too. It’s just that I’m obsessed with my dick and I want to know what it feels like before I use it on Hal.”
“What’s wrong with you? Do you not have a heart? Or have you just never used it?”
“Broaden your mind, dear boy.” I pulled my fingers through my hair. “What good is your love for me if you can’t even bring yourself to fuck me?”
“You really are quite a woman, Julie. Does Hal know you’re here?”
“Of course. But the cock is a surprise.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Simon, I need you. I have to get good first. It’s like anything else, I suppose. Anyway, I’m offering you an opportunity, but if you want to turn it down…”
Was it cruel to toy so with him? Most definitely. Could I help myself? Absolutely not.
“I’m not going to turn it down.” He reached out to me and took my hand in his. I toyed with the fantasy of context for a moment. What would it be like to live a life with him, somewhere outside this reality? Considering that Hal was one of his biggest clients, we were both utterly reliant on the same source for our livelihoods. Yet my mind wandered. I imagined Simon in a remote cabin, reading by a fireplace, chopping wood occasionally. I imagined him with a full collection of classical music. I imagined him keeping chickens, making omelettes for me in the mornings. It was quaint, eccentric. It wasn’t what I wanted, of course, but the fantasy was compelling.
“Kiss me, darling.” I was on my back on his bed and pulled him onto me. It was seductive. If I had been him, I also would not have resisted.
I could feel his cock harden against me. I loved it. The cosiness of his space added to my affections. He kissed my neck and ran his lips lightly over my ears, which sent shivers down my spine. I felt the tingle in my cunt and he reached around me with both arms. It felt so good. Unlike all of our other interactions, this time, he was on top of me, in control—or at least, in my mind I could will it that way. Part of what attracted me to Simon was his overt attraction to me. His jubilation over my mere presence was flattering. I love attention. I always have and there was something about the transference that Simon gave me. It was almost as though he gave me attention at the cost of leaving any for himself.
It felt to me as though Simon was malleable. It felt as if I could train him to do anything I wanted. What I wanted at that moment was more than his boyish charms. I wanted to feel manly hands on me, to be whisked away the way Timothy had on the yacht—the kind of feeling that allowed me to be completely feminine and feel small in his arms, and even smaller intertwined with his body.
It was difficult with Simon. Even if he was able to summon that state of mind, which was debatable, our bodies were incapable of reflecting what our minds expressed. He wasn’t much bigger than my five-and-a-half foot frame. He was a little broader—that was natural—but he didn’t exude masculinity, as they say. Of course, as I have come to understand it, masculinity means many different things and is, at best, a relative term. That Simon should want to suck my cock as opposed to me sucking his seemed perfectly natural and did not indicate any less of a degree of masculinity in him. If anything, I felt that he was a real man, capable of understanding femininity in a less than structured and conventional way. That was what it took, perhaps. That was also what I expected from Hal when I finally got to him.
But for now the challenge seemed to lie within me. It was my relationship with my cock that mattered more than either Simon’s or Hal’s relationship with it. I wondered if that was a self-centred thought, but concluded there was only one natural way to approach the subject. I would have to experiment. I would have to learn what felt good and, for this, Simon would be much more useful than Hal—with Hal, the stakes were higher.
I guess that is the thing with familiarity. Once a love relationship is established, one feels intimidated to try new things, to experiment, for fear, perhaps, that one’s love might think it a sign of disloyalty or disrespect. One might assume that a new leaf—a dangerous leaf—has been turned over. I was thankful it would all be quite new with Hal. We had a sexual history, but it was really only vicarious. It had been profound and I needed the profundity to continue, and that was why I needed a practice run at it. That and, of course, there was the matter that Simon’s lips were on my neck and I was breathing heavily beneath him.
I rolled out from beneath him, flipped him onto his side and lay beside him for a while, watching him look at me. His attention made me feel adored. He was like a poet, studying me, trying to extrapolate just the right line from the situation we shared. He caressed my face with his gentle fingers. I could almost hear him falling in love with me. I could feel him take steps further and further towards the inevitable heartache I would cause him. Sure, I could choose to feel bad about it, but he was doing it to himself.
I wanted to warn him, wanted to tell him I was not what he projected onto me. He certainly wasn’t the first man to go down the road he was on. I think that every sexually free woman invites her share of disdain for doing what I was doing with Simon. Knowing that made me appreciate him even more. He wasn’t the only poet between us. He brought something out in me, something romantic and wonderful.
I loosened his shirt and removed it. I tossed it on the floor, which riled him up to no end. His studio was spotless. I was quite convinced that he neatly folded every article of clothing he had worn that day before putting it to laundry. I really had fun with Simon. Just because I knew how much it irked him, I did the same with his pants—I simply tossed them on the floor, not even in a pile, just wild and willy-nilly. Poor, poor Simon.
Then I lay him on his back and straddled him. I was so wet and ready. I slowly pulled my black crew neck top up over my breasts, then up over my head. Even though my vision was blurred by the fabric, I could feel his eyes on me, could feel his stare penetrate even my bra. He seemed obsessed with my nakedness, seemed to savour every step that brought him closer.
So there we were, like two high school students with our pants still on and my bra still on and him ready to come. I let him take his time with me. He gently glided his fingers over my belly and around my side. No, this was not a man who knew what the hot spots were and went there immediately. Simon was really more of a novice, an impressionable traveller in foreign territory. And, after all the hands that had touched me with the arrogance of their seeming knowledge of women’s bodies, Simon was a refreshing change. I let him explore my midriff with open palms. I let him ogle my black lace bra. I could feel his response to it. For a tailor, I was a little shocked that he was so in awe and yet, I thought, what a disappointment it must be to work with the materials on a daily basis, only to end up with empty garments. Yes, it definitely was not the garment he was taking an interest in.
“Unhook it,” I whispered, leaning down over him to give him access. My long hair landed on his face, causing him to flinch a little. I tickled his nose with my hair.
“Really?” he asked, innocent as a young boy. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. I stayed down close to his face, resting against his chest. Hi
s hands ran sensually over my back.
“Your skin is so soft,” he said. “Sorry. I know that’s a cliché. You must hear that all the time. Not all the time. I’m sorry. You know what I mean.”
“Relax, Simon. Just relax and take off my bra and enjoy my skin, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Julie.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at him but found myself smiling instead. There was something about him that was so sweet and docile, it made me feel special. I felt as if I were one of the Seven Wonders of the World, not because he’d said so but because of what he hadn’t said. I’m sure if I had asked him to, he would have told me how he felt. But it was nice to let myself experience his utter admiration.
Simon did as I instructed. I felt his fingers unhook the tiny clasp on my black lace bra. I kissed his neck and, as if I were unveiling a masterpiece for the first time, I arched my back and came back to the upright seated position. I was still straddled over him, this time giving him the perfect vantage point for my God-given assets.
I took his hands, cupped each one and slowly brought them up to my breasts. My nipples became immediately hard when he touched them with the relatively rough skin of his soft hands. He was gentle at first, then I squeezed his fingers around my nipples and moaned in pleasure.
Something about the experience made me change my mind. In the back of my head, I had thought I wanted to fuck Simon’s ass. I did. But I also wanted him to fuck me. I wanted his cock inside me, much to my own surprise. I crouched down, slid past his knees in my seated position and prised his briefs from him. Even his cock suggested youth. I took it in my mouth and almost immediately his eyes rolled back into his head and his fists tightened. I wondered if Simon was thinking of baseball or England or his grandmother to ward off an embarrassing moment. He was solid in my mouth and I rhythmically pumped up and down, gripping him firmly with my lips. Suddenly, he pulled back.
