Bdsm Sex Stories

by Olga Menson

  I leaned in as I felt I was destined to, and began to kiss Kerry on her neck, as I somehow instinctively knew she would like. Softly at first then nips and finally love bites. We hadn't started doing anything serious yet and she was already gasping my name.

  "James...oh god..."

  My hand found her small breast and began to, well, honestly, to maul it. To be firm and then fierce. She leaned into my grip and put her small hand on mine and held it there as I felt her. She groaned as I moved down and began to kiss her other breast and pull at her nipple between my lips. I moved my hand down to her slit, which was swollen and wet. She flinched as I touched her, then arched her back, eager to grind against my palm or any other port of me.

  I didn't let her and she looked up at me with a pout. I laughed, which probably seemed a little cruel, but I moved myself over her and she understood. She parted her legs so much for me that I feared hurting her. I had enough will left to be something of a gentleman.

  "How's your ankle? Is this going to be ok?"

  "Y..yeah. It hurts but its fine. If you're gentle it won't be a problem. I guess you'll just have to be rough later to make up for it."

  Kerry gave me wicked little smile. How was she so beautiful? With hands that were somehow steady, I positioned myself and then began to push inside her. She was tight, and warm and perfect. It felt like she was made for me. I wanted to fuck her hard, if I'm honest, leaving her with no doubt as to how much I desired her, but I went slowly.

  Kerry arched her back and bit her lip. I shot her a questioning glance, afraid to hurt her, and she just smiled and nodded. I pushed the rest of the way inside her, and she sighed. I could tell that she shared my feeling of completeness. I began to move in and out of her, my eyes fixed on hers. It wasn't particularly kinky, but it was unbearably erotic. In and out, her pussy gripped me as I left, and her good leg wrapped around me and drew me back inside of her with each thrust.

  "That's it, James. Fuck me, just like that. Oh god you're hitting me just right. Don't stop, fuck."

  "I wish I'd just pressed you up against the wall and kissed you like I've wanted to for months."

  Lots of my thoughts were just slipping out now, as they do during sex.

  "James...I'm sorry...I should...I shouldn't...oh fuck...I'm sorry but I'm...."

  Kerry lost her train of thought and words, cumming as hard as I'd ever seen any woman. Her small body thrashed under me and I worried that she might hurt her ankle again, but instead she just held onto me for dear life. Her moans turned to cries and finally one prolonged scream. I'd never made any woman get that loud before, and it was wonderful. As her first orgasm died off, I accelerated.

  Kerry was never the sort to just lay back and let things happen. She moved her hips back at me with each stroke and rolled them to grind on me as she did. I reached back and stroked her hair before I put my hand behind her neck. Even now I had a strong protective instinct for her, almost at a primal level. I held her gently, cradling her head next to mine. I felt her gasp and whimper in my ear.

  "James...this isn't...like...oh god I love you. I love you so much."

  I couldn't help but speed up, thrusting faster and faster, groaning my pleasure. She clung to me and sped up, not just for herself, but to make sure I came hard. I held her ass in one hand, pulling her into me as I said her name, loudly.

  I came, pushing as deeply as I could. She felt me swell and begin to pulse inside of her, and she turned her head so she could looking me in the eye as I filled her. As soon as she felt the pressure of my first spurt of seed, she began to cum again.

  This moment, this perfect moment, was burned into my mind. My beautiful lover, my first true friend, my first true love, achieving orgasm with me, in perfect sync, one with me. When we both finished we stayed there looking into each other's eyes a moment before we kissed, long and hard, her legs still held me inside of her and my cock refused to soften.

  Finally, almost sadly, I pulled out of her, my seed spilling out. We continued to kiss and she held on to me as if afraid that I would run away. I never wanted to. I'd lost my virginity to a different girl, but this is where I consider my manhood to have begun. It was commitment at an almost spiritual level.

  "How...how was it?" Kerry asked, nervously. I don't know why she worried, it was amazing.

  "It...it was the best I've ever had," I said. I had some new fears of screwing up this new thing between us and losing her, but I didn't have any second thoughts. She might have though.

  "Good," she said, "because if we're going to be together I'm going to need to keep you happy."

  "Oh of course," I said, "but I hope you lower your expectations for me."

  She laughed.

  "Oh god, James," she said, "you need to stop that. Did I sound to you like I was disappointed? I've never got off that hard or that fast. And we both know that you have more experience than I do."

  I smiled at that and closed my eyes. Did I detect a touch of bitterness in her last sentence? If so, it was gone immediately.

  "Things are going to be different now," I observed

  "Are they? We cared for each other before this. We were more like br...family than friends. I've told you things that I'd never even tell my mom, James. In any case, you're mine now. You just have to get used to it."

  It was a very Kerry answer. She just expected me to go along with her. I did stand up for myself from time to time, but in this case, I was more than happy for her to claim me.

  We stayed like that for a long time, her laying on my chest. When I went go get up, she clung to me tightly, unwilling to let me go.

  "Stay here, with me," she said.

  "Um. I have to take a leak. But also, I'm pretty sure I should sleep on the couch. I'm not sure that your mom will want to find us in bed together. She might not buy the whole 'we're just really close friends' angle."

  "Well...at least come back and cuddle. And you can sleep on the floor, up here. You have to be where you can help me, right?"

  "All right," I agreed. It wasn't like I was opposed to being in bed with her, I just didn't want to get us in trouble and ruin this.

  When I got back I slid behind her, spooning her gently. She moved back into me, making sure as much of her body as possible was touching mine. She made a little hum of satisfaction. I'd closed and locked the bedroom door in case I fell asleep like this. At least that would give me a chance to get out of bed, although it would look suspicious.

  Kerry was so quiet that I thought she'd fallen asleep. But she was awake, and I'm sure that her mind was working on ways to broach the next subject.

  "Um," Kerry started, "so don't hate me, ok?"

  "I don't think that it would be possible for me to hate you right now, unless sleeping with me was some sort of elaborate prank."

  "No, of course not, I would never hurt you like that. I just...just think that we need to keep us a secret for the time being."

  "Why?"

  I will admit that this did cause a brief drop in my stomach, but nothing like resentment. I was looking forward to being with Kerry in public. Was she ashamed of me? Ashamed of what she'd done with me?

  "Because...well...think about our parents. They trust us together, right? And you can stay over here and I can stay over at your house and whatever, any time, right?"

  "Right."

  "If they know that we're dating, or whatever, they won't be like that any more. We'll always have a chaperone. Imagine what your mom would be like if she thought we were having sex."

  "Oh god. She'd never leave us alone for fear of our immortal souls."

  "Exactly. And this is a, um, pretty small town. If someone sees us, it will get back to your mom or mine...or your dad."

  I didn't exactly understand why Kerry said the last word with such dread, but it made sense, even if I was a bit disappointed. I wouldn't do anything to risk this new thing between us. It felt beautiful to me, and big. If nothing else I was looking forward to being with her and discovering her all over again
.

  So I agreed to her terms. They made sense, and after all, I was in love with her. Things weren't always simple, but they were happy for us, for over a year.

  * * *

  Now - Devil's Eve

  * * *

  "Your father was proud of you, you know."

  That was how the end of the story started. With my mother trying to be good towards me and my dad fucking it up from beyond the grave. It was the day before Halloween and I was helping my mom with the dishes. She was washing while I dried and put away.

  "Really? You think?"

  "Yes. He regretted the distance between the two of you. I tried to get him to reach out to you, but he felt it would be imposing on you just to make him feel less guilty. He read a lot of your writing. Not just the fun stuff either, like I do, but even some of your textbooks. You can see them in his library."

  My dad's library had books in it, but it was really his private office at home. It was a place I had avoided mostly, as a child and now as an adult. I hadn't been in there since I'd gotten home, in any case.

  "God, it would feel weird to go in there without his permission."

  She laughed.

  "I guarantee that you have it. You know what? You should take his old typewriter with you. And his old laptop if you want it. Both of them still work, but the typewriter would make a nice reminder of him in your life, maybe next to where you write? In any case...I haven't been able to bring myself to go through his papers. I don't think there's anything critical in there but I don't know for sure. Before you came home I was going to ask Kerry to come over and go through them, just in case. You know, given her background..."

  Kerry wasn't an accountant, per se, but she was in finance, and she had made herself well versed with investment strategies and banking, even at a personal level. It would make sense for her to go through it because anything important would stand out to her immediately.

  "I can do it," I offered, "I don't mind. If I find anything I don't understand, I'll go to Kerry."

  "That would be wonderful. Thank you. But don't rush. I doubt anything in there needs immediate attention after all these months."

  I decided to do it that afternoon. After all, there was no point putting it off.

  Later, after my mother left to help run a kid-friendly "haunted house" at her church, I went into my father's library. It still smelled vaguely of him, in a way. There was a lingering odor of pipe tobacco. He'd quit smoking years ago, but kept a bag around because he liked the scent. His books were overflowing from the shelving and stacked on his desk and even on the floor. They were a mix of business and sales, adventure fiction, and the classics. And conspicuously, one shelf had all of the textbooks and novels that I'd written, all lined up in a row. I didn't know if he'd ever read them, but I'm not afraid to admit that I teared up a little when I saw proof of my father's interest, maybe even love. There was so little of it in my life, but maybe it was there all along.

  I sighed and sat down at his desk. I started with what was in plain sight. The typewriter was empty, the laptop closed and off. The printer sat still. There were papers on his blotter and I looked through them but they were mostly old bills and offers. I tossed them.

  I started going through the drawers. The first one held what I would call "critical business correspondence," important letters and then later emails that he kept for reference or even proof. The second drawer was a surprise to me. It had articles that he had written, some on the typewriter and others obviously printed out much later, non-fiction about the state of his industry or international opportunities for sales. He'd even sold a few of them to magazines, although he had kept his rejection letters, too. I thought that was funny as I did the same. I made a note to return to this stuff and read it, if only to see what his writing style was like. I set the articles aside. The third drawer was a junk drawer: batteries and pens and such. I tossed most of it but kept the items that I thought mom could use. The last drawer wouldn't open.

  I assumed that it was locked, but it had no place for a key. Maybe it was stuck then? It was secured tightly, but when I pulled on it there was a stopping point, like a door that has been bolted but not sealed completely. I began to think about my father's distance, his reticence to speak of things beyond the immediate, his compartmentalization. I sighed and felt around the outside of the desk. Nothing. So I started looking inside. There, in the junk drawer, I found it.

  On top, hidden from sight unless you took out the drawer itself and got on your knees, was a catch. Simple but deceptively clever. Just like dad. I pushed the catch in and the last drawer popped open as if it were spring loaded. I felt something settling deep in my stomach. I didn't want to go through this drawer. I felt like I was violating my father's last private space, but I had committed to mom that I would. That's what I told myself anyway.

  The first thing that I found were love letters, from mom to him. They were kept bundled and tied with a red ribbon. I set those aside to give to her. It would be good for her to have physical proof of his devotion, even though she knew that he loved her.

  Under those was where the trouble started.

  First was a small black address book. How fucking cliché, dad. It didn't have a lot of names, but all of them were women. First names only, then city, in some cases country, and a phone number. Some had little stars pencilled next to them.

  Jesus, dad. How insensitive was he to leave this here were mom could find it? Did she know? He travelled a hell of a lot. On the other hand, there were dates listed by a lot of the names, too. And none of them were remotely recent. Some were probably from before he met mom, but some were definitely after. Nothing after 1991, though. That would mean that he stopped doing this, what, about a year before I was born?

  Better late than never, dad. I was angry at this point, but not really surprised. Dad was popular with women, outgoing, and in a position of power and wealth. And he was just the sort of man to compartmentalize a string of out of town women from his beloved wife.

  I came to terms with it fast. I set the book aside and resolved to trash it well away from the house. I'd have probably burned it if mom had been out, for my own catharsis.

  And then it got really bad.

  There was nothing else in the drawer. I went to close it, when I noticed something odd. The bottom panel of the drawer rattled when I moved it. I had a bad feeling.

  I got down on my knees and examined it, inside and out. I could clearly see a difference. The outside was about two inches deeper than the inside. It was a false bottom.

  I felt around the drawer itself. Nothing. I reached under the bottom and there it was, another catch. I pressed it. The bottom panel pivoted up on a hidden hinge in the back, like a safety deposit box.

  Inside was another bundle of letters, this time with a black ribbon around them. I took it off, a cold emptiness spreading through me. Some of them were handwritten, but there were also printed emails here. I picked it up and I could faintly smell perfume. It was familiar, but I was certain that it wasn't my mother's.

  I read the first handwritten note, largely because it was short. The writing was fine, not pretty or 'girly,' but feminine. Clean, controlled. Familiar again, but I couldn't place it. Not yet. It was addressed to 'Daniel'. Interesting. Only my father's closest friends and my mother called him that. He was Dan to everyone else. He preferred the formal version but never made a big deal out of it.

  Daniel,

  Thank you so much for what you did for me. I can't express in words how grateful I am. So many people in this town judge based on appearances or preconceived notions. I won't waste this opportunity.

  Please let me know if I can do anything at all for you in the future. I am at your service.

  -J

  Refusing to sign a name was suspect but honestly, this letter almost seemed to be one of professional thanks. I went on to the next one, which was longer and cleared things up immensely, to my dismay.

  Daniel,

  The last time
I wrote to thank you. I want to do so again but I think I can better express my gratitude in person, don't you? Perhaps this time on my knees?

  I'm still thinking about last night. I'm going to be thinking about it for a very long time. I hope you feel the same but I suspect that I am kidding myself. I've never been with a man that made me feel like you did, and so effortlessly. I'm sure that I must have seemed like a naive little thing to you, useless except to make sweet noises, but you were amazing.

  Even now, when I set out to write, I think about you over me, your weight pressing down on me, crushing me in the most lovely way. I think about you inside me, reaching places that had never been touched before. I think about your mouth exploring me, casually opening me and releasing something inside me that no-one else has.

  You were so gentle, so giving, but I felt you were holding something back. Were you worried about hurting me? About bruising my delicate interior? I already love that about you, how much you care and think about my comfort, even when you're taking me.

  That being said, I'm may be petite, but I'm stronger than I look. There must be things you want to do to a dirty little girl like me. Maybe things that you can't bring yourself to do to your wife? I hope that whatever you choose to do, it's brutal and delicious.

  PS - It's hard to be so close to you and yet so far. Just remember that you can be over here and inside me in just a few minutes, any time you want.

  -J

  Oh fuck. Finally the picture was building. Was I really this slow? This stupid? I flipped through some more of the letters. They were still intensely sexual and private, but more romantic language was coming through. This was a long term affair.

  I felt myself break out in the sweat of anxiety. I was both hopeful and afraid that the writer would use her full name. I took a deep breath and decided to skip to the end of the pile. If there wasn't anything to confirm or dispel my fears then I'd go through dad's laptop. I was in it too deep to walk away now.