Rock And Water - Chapter 3 free porn video

After leaving the gym, I confirm with my parents that they’re picking Addie up after school for the weekend. I don’t tell them about the date just yet. They moved to Oregon from the east coast when she was two since she was their only grandchild, insisting on being a big part of her life. It’s been especially helpful since the divorce. As a single parent, it’s a blessing to have every other weekend to myself. Addie leaves for London in 10 days, and this will be the last weekend they share together for the summer.

That evening after work I go out with my friend Johanna for our Friday night sushi ritual. Since splitting from Frank, Johanna has been my shoulder to cry on and my loudest cheering section pushing me back in to the dating world. She’s crass and sometimes loud, but also one of the best listeners I know. We’ve shared everything there is to share with each other. I even admitted to her about my online relationship with Robert, kink and all, along with my need for submission in the bedroom. I’d worried she might judge me for it, but it was quite the opposite.

Although Johanna doesn’t share any of my interest in BDSM, she not only held no judgment, but wanted every juicy detail I was willing to share. Her marriage is blissfully stable with an adventurous and loving sex life. I’ve listened to countless stories of the risky public escapades she and her husband frequently engage in.

I tell her about meeting Patrick at the gym, and our date tomorrow. She ribs me a bit since I’ve brought “that tall, cute guy” up at least three times in the past few months, thinking each time that I’d never mentioned him. She also asks the question I’ve been a little afraid to confront myself with; am I truly ready for this? I think I am. I know my body is. I can barely contain my excitement about tomorrow. She’s supportive, but goes on to ask how I’ll feel if he’s not in to kink, or even some mild power exchange in the bedroom. I’d thought about this too, and truly am not sure. It’s something that I want so very badly.

With these questions in mind, I head home and try to get some sleep. Images of Patrick, and remembering his body pressed against mine at the lockers are swirling in my head as my body starts to betray my need for sleep. I turn on the light and reach for my purse on the floor and pull his card out. I stare at the words on the card, and even bring it close to my face to smell. It smells like paper and I feel a pretty silly but my body is coming to life remembering the touch of his hand on mine. My legs start to squeeze together; creating a delicious friction. My nipples press against the cool cotton of my old t-shirt.

I lie on my side and reach between my legs, cupping my pussy in one hand and squeeze. I let out a groan as my palm pushes through my panties into my swollen clit; moisture begins to soak my hand. My breathing becomes short and erratic as I continue to just gently squeeze my cunt and clit, imagining Patrick’s strong had replacing mine, imagining him taking control.

I think about the toys in my closet, but my need is too great for them at this point, and I quickly tear off my underwear and plunge two fingers, then three, in to my sopping pussy. My other hand is up under my shirt pulling and twisting on my nipples causing both pain and devastating pleasure. My hips buck in to my palm trying to make contact with my wet, exposed clit as my fingers pump in and out of my hole. The hand on my breasts reaches down and begins to pull and pinch on my clit and my body lets go with a surprisingly quick and intense orgasm that shocks me. My body sated, I check my alarm one last time before drifting in to a deep and peaceful sleep with images of Patrick’s ice-blue eyes gazing down on me.

*

The next morning I get up in enough time to take a long, hot shower. I don’t really know what to expect from the day, but I take care to shave my legs and my labia until they’re bare and soft. I trim the already short hair on my mound to a small, neat triangle just at the top of my cleft. I dry off and dress in some green hiking shorts and a black tank top. I grab my favorite, old navy blue zipped hoodie that advertises a local brewery on the back.

At just before 9am the next day an older looking, slightly beat up black Bronco pulls in front of my house and I see Patrick unfold his length from the driver’s side door, followed by a scruffy brown and black Terrier mix. The sight of this tall, imposing man with this scruffy little dog that doesn’t look like it weighs more than 12lb makes smile and relax just a little. I look at him through the window as he walks up towards my house. He’s wearing some olive colored hiking shorts that go just above his knees, and black fleece over what appears to be a faded yellow t-shirt. His rugged hiking boots look well-loved, and well-worn.

His knock on the door sets Griffin off and his crazed barking then gets Guinness barking on the other side. Madness ensues as I grab Griffin’s collar and open the door just before Guinness comes tearing in the house circling excitedly around us. Griffin appears stunned by the small, hyper dog at his feet, but then breaks free from my hold, throwing me straight in to Patrick’s chest, and runs out to the front yard with Guinness in tow. The two race in happy circles, the smaller dog dwarfed in size by the Border Collie mix, until both collapse contentedly in the grass and look at us expectantly like they’ve been best friends forever.

After my graceless fall in to Patrick’s chest, he quickly reaches out and his hands grasp my bare arms to steady me. His hold is warm, secure, and all too short as he takes a step back and looks down at me. “Are you okay? “ He asks with concern. “I’d hoped there’d be less chaos having them meet before the car ride.”

The heat of his strong hands on my arms lingers, and there’s no question the chemistry I felt yesterday was not imagined. “I’m fine. I can’t really blame my dog for my lack of grace. I’m really a bit of a klutz. I’ve even injured myself sitting in the studio while on the air. I’m truly hopeless,” I say with a laugh.

“I’ll just have to watch out for you then, “ he replies with a slight smile on his lips. “I’ve got plans for us later and they’ll need you in one piece.” The promise in his voice causes my gut to clench, wondering what these “plans” could be. “You look incredible Corrine. There’s nothing sexier in my eyes than a woman in hiking boots.” I look at him doubtful, to see if he’s being truthful, and from the appreciative glint in his eyes I see that he is.

I grab my bag that has my sundress for later, some sunblock, and Griffin’s food; we head out the door to his truck. The back seat is covered in old blankets for the dogs. They jump in and shuffle around. True to Patrick’s word, Guinness hogs up about ¾ of the seat pacing back and forth, while Griffin tries to make himself as small as possible against the passenger door. The step up in to the Bronco is a bit high, and I feel Patrick just behind me as I climb in making sure I get in safely before he closes my door. The chivalry is refreshing after my recent dates.

He lifts himself in to the driver side, and we both buckle in before he takes off. With a little space between us, conversation comes much more easily for me today. We mostly cover the easy basics that most do on first dates, i.e. what brought me to Portland from the east coast, how I got in to radio broadcast, and a little about Addie. I learn that before he was a carpenter he had been a ski instructor in the winters, and a river rafting guide during the summers. A few injuries over the years, along with his marriage and need to stay in one place, guided his decision to turn his passion for woodworking in to a career.

Despite the light conversation, his body so close to mine is keeping mine on edge. After months of crushing on him from afar, it amazes me how easy it is to talk to him. I can’t seem to drop the smile on my face or keep my eyes from frequently looking at him as he drives.

Patrick tells me that he has a cabin in the gorge, just on the other side of the river in Washington. I’m impressed when he tells me that he bought it after the original structure had burned down, leaving only the basic foundation. Over the years he rebuilt with his own hands, along with the help of some good friends. It sounds pretty rustic with the only heat coming from an old wood stove, but it does have running water and electricity.

“Depending on how our day goes, I’d love it if we could spend the night there.” He pauses and looks at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “I’m not going to be coy or shy about letting you know I want you, but ultimately it’s up to you. I’m not opposed to sharing the couch with Guinness if you’d be more comfortable, but I’d love to wake up there with you tomorrow and fix you my killer breakfast.”

His admission of wanting me sends a delicious ache through my gut and my heart literally flutters. I love his bold and direct nature. I’m over game playing, and it appears he is too. “Wow, I’d…uh, I’d love to see your cabin…. as far as staying tonight, I think it would be ok. It seems a bit premature to plan sleeping arrangements quite yet though. I mean, hell, we haven’t even kissed!”

With that, he pulls over to the side of the isolated forest road we’ve been driving on and before I can even speak he’s pulled himself closer to me and cradles my face in his large hands. “We can remedy that right here and now Corrine. I’ve spent too many months wondering what your lips would feel like on mine. I’d really like to kiss you.” His last words come out as a low growl, and as he speaks, his right hand lowers a bit and I feel his thumb drag across my bottom lip. Without thought my tongue darts out and follows the path his finger traced.

I can’t be coy either. I need this so bad. “Please yes…Patrick.” I feel his hands shift from my cheeks to the back of my head as he draws me to him. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is the intensity in his, and I expect his lips to crush mine. Instead, I feel the most chaste and delicate kiss caress my lips, then another, and another. His tongue gently begins to trace my lips, but does not enter. This tender kiss is igniting something dormant in me and I want to crush myself against him. I can’t wait any longer and I push forward in an attempt to intensify the kiss, only to have him pull back and smile.

I am flustered and left wanting. He appears to know this, but I can see the effect the kiss had on him too as he unselfconsciously adjusts himself through his shorts with a low moan. He backs himself in to the driver’s seat once again, leaning his head back on the head rest he lets outs his breath. “Holy hell, those lips are going to be the end of me…. I think I’d be happy to stay on the side of the road and kiss you all day, but I promised you a hike, didn’t I?”

He starts up the truck again and we continue on. My body continues to tremble from the kiss. We both remain quiet for the rest of the ride. After another 20 minutes of forest roads, we pull up to the trailhead. I’m delighted that it’s a hike I’ve been dying to try and tell him so. It’s known for its beautiful views at the top, but also for its occasional rough terrain. Trail books recommend that it not be hiked alone.

Patrick parks the Bronco and we put the dogs on leashes. He grabs his pack out of the back and we leave the lot signing in at the start of the trail. A few other cars are already parked, but not too many so hopefully we’ll have the trail to ourselves. With no one around, we let the dogs off leash and they tear up the path out of view, only to double back and check in with us. They repeat this pattern though the morning, occasionally jumping off the path into the creek for drinks of cold water.

We walk in easy silence with each other. Occasionally he points out a small hidden waterfall, or a tree struck by lightning, but otherwise we’re both lost in our own thoughts. As the switchbacks begin in earnest I can feel his vigilance kick in as he walks closely behind me, occasionally aiding me over larger rocks with a hand on my hip or elbow in support. Instead of feeling patronized, I feel a warm glow inside knowing he’s looking after me. With each touch I only crave more.

A few miles in, we break through the tree line into a meadow of wildflowers. The sun is now shining brightly down on us. The path continues upward through the grasses and I joke about breaking in to the “Sound of Music.” The dogs disappear in to the tall fields; occasionally I can see Griffin jumping out only to dive back in again. I can’t remember feeling so good in a long time. Patrick guides me off the trail towards a clearing and some old logs. I sit and straddle a log as he pulls out a jug of water from his pack. I hadn’t realized he’d been packing along a gallon of water, along with the water bottles we’d already been carrying. He pulls out two portable water bowls and pours for the thirsty dogs.

He continues into his pack, pulling out a thick, plaid cotton blanket along with some food for lunch. I can’t believe the spread he brought, including some ham and brie baguettes, a greek salad, a bunch of fruit, a decadent looking brownie, and even a bottle of red wine. He pulls out his camping dishes, then opens the bottle of wine, pouring it in to mugs. “Sorry for the unromantic wine glasses,” he laments.

“They’re perfect.” I reply readily looking up in to his bright eyes. “The whole day’s been perfect.” He smiles at that, then before I know it he’s behind me on the log with his body pushed against my back, his legs on either side of mine. His arms circle around my waist, he gives me a warm, almost possessive hug. I feel his breath on the back of my neck as he leans in closer to my ear.

“Corrine, it’s been a bitch to follow you all day,” he says with a low chuckle. “Watching your curves, the sheen of sweat on your neck… There’s been twenty times I’ve wanted to pull you off the trail to devour you.” His body against mine and the need in his voice completely undo me. Without conscious thought my body leans back in to his to rest my head on his shoulder. While holding one arm snug around me, he reaches the other behind my neck and begins to gently brush the hair of my ponytail aside to expose the soft skin behind my ear. My skin tingles as his calloused fingertips gently trace against it.

I close my eyes and listen to his breathing, enjoying the sensation of his hand caressing my hair, when subtly his hand begins to tighten its hold on the base of my ponytail. I feel my scalp tingle as he pulls my head to the side and lowers his mouth to my vulnerable skin. As his open lips contact my bare skin my eyes shoot open and my body jerks but his arm around me keeps me secure against him. His warm, wet tongue is against my skin, tasting me, before he unleashes a groan and then all I feel are his lips sucking at my flesh with less than gentle nips of his teeth. His hand fists even tighter in my hair and I feel myself arch in to him with a groan. “Yes,” I think to myself. “ He knows.

I want to turn around to feel his lips on mine but I’m immobilized by his warm embrace. He continues his assault on my neck, but I feel his hand release my hair then run down my arm, covering my own hand that I now realize has a death grip on my thigh. He coerces me to release the hold on my leg and gently but firmly guides my hand behind my head and without words instructs me to grasp my own hair as he had, holding my neck exposed for him. I do.

His kisses have stopped but he doesn’t release me. I leave my hand in my hair; he doesn’t instruct me otherwise. I hear Patrick breathing heavily as his arm around my waist pulls me tighter against him and he grinds himself against me. I can now feel his hard length straining against his shorts and into my backside. Juices escape my pussy and my panties get noticeably wet. His free hand is now on my hip, sliding down the top of my thigh to the exposed skin just below my hiking shorts. He stops and I feel his fingers tracing the soft skin inside of my thigh, just under the cuff, before he squeezes the flesh firmly. The constant pressure of his grip is just shy of painful; my mouth opens and I let my breath out in a low and raspy groan.

He too releases a low, guttural moan before releasing his grip on my thigh, leaving his hand where it is. My skin feels singed by the imprint of his hand, and I know if I look there will be a mark on my leg. He takes my hand from my hair and pulls it in front of my belly before grasping it in his own. “Did you like that, Corrine?” His breathing is fast and his voice low and steady. “My desire for you at this moment is a bit intense. I’m not sure I can explain it myself, but the last thing I want to do is scare you in any way.” His embrace has changed from restrictive to warm, with his chin resting on my shoulder.

“Oh god no… not scary at all. It was…it was unlike anything… Ugh, I can’t find my words!”

“I want to do things to you. I look at you and your beauty, your intelligence, your sexy voice that I’ll never be able to hear over the radio again without thinking of those lips on mine, and I just want everything. More to the point… I want you to give me everything; all you’ve got. More. Do you understand what I’m asking?’

“I think I do, Patrick,” I reply. “I… I want you too. So bad I can’t think straight.”

He laughs and swings himself around on the log to face me. My eyes can’t help but look down and see the evidence of his desire for me swollen against the seam of his shorts. My tongue darts out and licks my lower lip and I look up. By the half grin on his face and the light in his eyes I know he caught me looking. “Ignore it,” he gestures to his cock, “While I’m trying to be a gentleman it’s got other ideas…. I have other plans for us right now.”

My eyes open wide, wondering what he has in mind. As it turns out, it’s just lunch. We plunk down on the blanket and feast on the amazing food he packed. “Don’t give me any credit for the cooking… I’m a ‘foodie’ that can’t cook anything but breakfast.”

“That’s twice now you’ve mentioned that breakfast. You’re raising my expectations pretty high!”

“Well, I’m a one-trick pony with my kitchen skills…. Hopefully I’ll find other ways to charm and impress you so won’t notice I fix you the same meal every morning.” The thought of ‘every morning’ excites me.

After the last bite of brownie has been eaten, he removes his fleece and balls it up. Laying down on the blanket, he offers the fleece for me to use as a pillow, but I decline and remove my own hoodie to use. Before I lay down, I gawk at his exposed arms, along with the myriad of tattoos adorning them. I can now see clearly the tattoos on his inner forearms that I’d only glimpsed the edges of at the gym. They are the same oak tree and axe that are on his business cards. They are lovely. I ask which came first, learning that they preceded his business altogether by about five years.

The tail of a black serpent winds up his left arm. The tip of its tail curls just above his elbow, while the body winds upwards over his biceps disappearing under his t-shirt sleeve. “I got that in my early twenties. Thought it made me look tough. You can’t see its face because of my shirt, but the artist made my bad-ass snake have ‘baby blue’ eyes. I caught so much hell from my friends that I almost had them changed to a darker color, but decided not to give them the satisfaction.” He laughs, then adds, “They still give me shit about it.”

We lay there quietly, the dogs resting nearby as the wind caresses the surrounding wildflowers. He’s taken my hand and is gently caressing it. His actions are soft, but I’m sensing some tension in him. Finally he speaks.

"Tell me about your tattoo. I know there must be some significance behind it.” He turns on his side to face me. I’ve been lying on my back with my knees up, feet on the ground. He reaches over and begins to stroke his hand slowly up and down my calf, over the tattoo, as if in doing so it may answer his questions.

“Well, it does…. on many levels.” I pause, thinking of the best way to explain. “On the most basic level, I’m a total nature freak, especially around waterfalls. It’s where I find my spirituality, my peace.” I stop there, not quite ready to continue.

“Go on, there’s more.” His voice is firm; a shred of command underlies his otherwise calm request.

I realize now that I’m about to reveal more about myself to Patrick than I have to anyone besides Johanna. I worry that I may be wrong about him. That he’ll think different of me after I tell him, but how can I not? I refuse to go into a relationship and not be true to myself ever again.

“Okay…when I look at a waterfall, I see it for what it is. Rocks and water. It’s so simple but so beautiful at the same time. The water is soft, so willing to bend to the will of the rock. The rock stands strong, but over time allows the water to soften its edges. The two elements come together to create something so much better, so much stronger than the sum of its parts.”

His eyes leave mine as he looks again at my tattoo, his hand continuing to caress the skin. I go on. “It’s a metaphor for what I want in my life Patrick, from what I want from a relationship. I’ve always had a drive to please, but in my marriage it took form as always trying to be in control, to always be in charge and make everything perfect. The more control I took, the more Frank gave me until it seemed he couldn’t make a decision on his own. I lost respect for him, resented that he couldn’t be stronger for me, and in turn… lost my desire for him too.”

Patrick’s eyes focus on mine and he asks me bluntly, “…and in the bedroom?”

“I, uh… well, it started off pretty fun, he was a good and attentive lover but not very adventurous.” I look down, noticing my hands fidgeting in my shirt. Looking up I ask, “Do you really want to hear this?”

Without waver in his voice, or eyes, “Yes.”

Um, ok…. Over the years my… my needs changed. Or maybe they didn’t change… I think I always knew.”

“Knew what?”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “This is hard...”

“Open your eyes Corrine. Look at me.”

I open my eyes to find Patrick has moved closer, propped up on one elbow. He reaches his other hand and gently rests it on my breast bone, two fingers on my pulse. His hand is hot. His eyes are focused on me. Warm. Accepting. “What did you know?”

“Okay… It got to the point that in our day to day lives, I…shit this is hard… I was in control. If you asked him, he would never have thought that, but I was.” I pause, hoping this is enough. One look at him and I know it isn’t.

“I felt like I always had to take the lead, to set the tone. He was always so gentle, so giving. I felt like I had no room to complain. I know it was my responsibility to tell him what I liked or didn’t like, but honestly, sometimes a woman just wants a man to know. The thing is, I’d figured out early on that I like it, um, a bit rough. After hinting at it, he figured it out but when he was, I could tell it was only to please me. It didn’t feel real… not to mention it was never really enough anyway.” I feel shy sharing this, but I feel no judgment from him.

Patrick’s hand on my chest subtly moves upward until it is lightly resting on the base of my neck. I don’t feel threatened by it, but it feels very intentional on his part. His eyes bore in to me, and he licks his lips before speaking. “It didn’t feel real because he didn’t know you what you needed. He didn’t know you were submissive.” His voice is measured and steady. “He didn’t know your deep need to give up control.” Patrick pauses, gauging my reaction to his words. His voice lowers but remains steady. “He didn’t know how to use your body like a fuck toy.”

I startle at his blunt words. I’m both shocked and excited by his directness, but also a bit overwhelmed. My heart and mind start to race so I attempt to sit up, pushing away his hand. He allows me to, sitting up himself too, but restricts me from standing by placing his hands firmly on my shoulders.

“Breathe, Corrine.” His hold on me is not painful, but it is clearly letting me know I can’t run from him. I know I don’t want to, but outside of Robert no one has ever spoken to me this way. No one knows how much I crave it; how much I need to let go.

“I don’t understand,” I stammer, trying to catch my breath and find the right words. “How could you know? I’ve always been told how confident I come off, how strong.”

Patrick smiles, and pulls me in to his arms. My head rest on his chest, hearing his strong, slow heartbeat. “You are confident. You are strong.”

His hand caresses my arm rhythmically, relaxing me in to his body. “Being submissive does not negate those qualities. Honestly for me, they enhance it. It was your confidence and strength that attracted me to you in the first place, but it was the way you looked at me, the way your body responded to mine at the lockers yesterday that hinted at your submissive side. I took a chance just now by saying it. I’m glad I did.”

“So, uh…does that mean that you enjoy, um, that you are…”

“Does it mean that I consider myself dominant? Yes.” He allows me to absorb his words for a bit before continuing. “It’s who I’ve been; always. From my earliest sexual experiences I realized I enjoyed taking control, but it was more than that. It was finding someone who would willingly give up THEIR control that had the most profound effect on me. “

“In high school, I never wanted to date a girl that was passive; who would agree with everything I said. I found it was much more satisfying to be with a girl that could hold her own, but then would submit to my will. It was that way also through college. In my twenties, I was relatively active in the local BDSM scene, which is…where I met my wife.”

His hold on me subtly shifts. While still warm and comforting, I can sense some tension, or maybe apprehension. He continues, “She was everything I was looking for, really. Intelligent, ambitious, adventurous…” His voice is softer, a bit sad. “She claimed to be submissive, but early in our marriage she seemed less interested in the kink that I thought she enjoyed. I backed off, which was maybe my first mistake, but I’d hoped she’d come back to me on her own. Being dominant, being in control is who I am, but in the end she admitted that it had just been ‘fun’ for her to be submissive; just a role she had been playing.”

“We’d always planned to have kids, and when I realized that might not happen I became withdrawn from her. When I wasn’t, I was a bully. I think I was trying to take control of the relationship in any way I could and it blew up in my face. She left me for a business colleague last year.”

“Thank you for telling me Patrick.” I’m still a little confused though. I look down at his left hand. His gaze follows mine to the indention on his ring finger.

“I can’t explain why it was so hard for me to let go of the ring, but I only took it off for good around 3 months ago.” He tightens his hold on me and rests his head on my shoulder. “I feel like I should tell you, I was a bit of a slut after my marriage ended. Always safe though, I promise. Mostly women I met online; occasionally from bars. There was one time with a personal trainer at the gym… I think I needed to prove something to myself. It was really pretty adolescent but oddly enough exorcised some demons for me. No kink; just straight sex. No dating either. Oddly enough, I kept my ring on during that period of time, only to remove it when I was done playing around a few months ago. I haven’t dated, or been with anyone since.”

I look up at him. “Can I ask why?”

He says simply, “I want more. I want a relationship.” My heart skips hearing this.

“Oh.”

“What about you? Have you dated since your marriage ended?” He brushes some loose hair from my face sending goose bumps down my neck.

“In recent months I did some online dating, but was never really interested in the men I was meeting”

“Have you had sex?” He asks bluntly.

I laugh. “Wow, that’s direct.”

He just smiles.

“Well, no, not really. But… kind of?”

“Toys?” He asks, perhaps a little overenthusiastically.

“Um, yes… toys. But, there’s more. As you figured out with your ninja/dom mind meld, I am submissive, in the bedroom anyway.”

Patrick interrupts me briefly. “We still need to discuss what that means to you.”

“Oh, okay…. I fidget a little. “Anyway, I… uh, had no experience so I looked online, eventually finding a BDSM chat site. I met a man there, Robert, about one and a half years ago. We hit it off, but maintained our relationship online or over the phone since we were across the country from each other.”

“And you never met during that time?’

“No. We decided early on it would be best not to. That it may keep us from meeting other people. In the end, he did, and so it ended.”

Patrick encourages me to tell him more about the phone calls, and I do. I don’t know if it’s his rhythmic caresses in my hair, his warm embrace, or how easy it is to talk to him, but it’s as if I’m in a trance and it all spills out. The toys, the pain, the names. The compassion, support, and encouragement. All of it. Again, no judgment .

“When did it end?”

I tell him it was five months ago, and I see him do the math. “Although not in person, you had what sounds like a very intense dom/sub relationship with him for over a year. Do you still have feelings for him?”

“No. I don’t. I’m very grateful for the time I had with him, but the boundaries we set from the beginning I think helped when it was over.”

“Mmmmm…. I’m grateful too, that you’ve researched the lifestyle and embrace it. I also feel very, very lucky that I found you before you met someone else” Patrick lays us both down on to the blanket, then roles over on top of me, propping his weight up on his elbows. It feels delicious to have his body on mine and I squirm under him to create a little friction. “Uh, uh naughty girl,” he says with a grin,” unless you’re trying to tell me you’re an exhibitionist too.” He nods to his left, and I can see some hikers coming over the hill towards us. I jump up abruptly, pushing him over as I do as he lays there laughing. I give him a kick in the ass, which just makes him laugh harder.

“Okay, okay...,” he says. “I deserved that.

We pack up his sack as the dogs jump excitedly around us. The hike down goes pretty fast and as before, Patrick is there to help me during more technical descents. We reach his truck, pack up the dogs, and I melt in to my seat. Once off the forest roads, it’s about another 30 minutes before we cross the bridge over the Columbia River in to Washington where his cabin is. There’s a sweet looking, small town just a half a mile down the road.

His cabin is small and rustic, nestled in the woods a short distance off the road and away from other homes and cabins. It’s surrounded by a mix of old Douglas Fir, Maple, and Hemlock trees covered in moss, with sunlight trickling through the branches. There’s a small shed, clothesline, and a basketball hoop just to the left of the cabin, but otherwise it’s just the trees.

We go inside with the dogs, who both immediately jump up on a very comfortable looking old leather couch before Patrick immediately kicks them off. Along with the couch is an old antique wood rocking chair with a Pendleton blanket over the back, and a coffee table with a surface made of slate tiles. A worn Kilim rug covers the living area, while the rest of the floors are hardwood, probably fir. Across from the couch is a wood stove with a generous pile of logs and branches resting next to it in a copper pot.

A small round, wood kitchen table and two chairs sit next to a large pane window, and the kitchen essentially runs along the back wall of the cabin. It has an old gas stove, large farmhouse sink, and a fridge. There’s a closet near the front door, and two other doors which I presume go to a bathroom and bedroom. The cabin smells woodsy and yummy and I instantly feel comfortable and at home.

Patrick puts our backpacks on the floor then takes me in to his arms. I expect him to kiss me, but instead he just holds me in a long, silent embrace. It’s utterly quiet here except the panting of the dogs, and I feel a peace go through me as I close my eyes. Neither of us speaks for a few minutes, yet I feel a lot is communicated. We’ve had very different, yet very similar journeys, which have brought us to this place and time. Patrick loosens his hold on me but still has me in his embrace. He looks down on me with a contemplative look in his eyes, as if about to speak, but this time I take the initiative and speak first.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I can feel you’ve put your heart in this cabin and I’m honored to have been invited.”

He smiles warmly. “You’re very welcome.” He pauses and looks at me intently. “I want you to know two things.” He draws me close again so my head rests on his chest. His hand slowly caresses my back as he speaks again. “I built this as my marriage was failing. It was a solace and a refuge for me when I couldn’t stand to be in our home alone while she was traveling. Before it was built, I slept in my tent until it had four walls and a roof. Maureen, my ex, only came out a few times. I think to humor me.” He shakes his head a little, then continues. “Subconsciously I’d hoped that if we had a place away from the city we’d reconnect, but she never seemed to warm to the place. She would rather have stayed in a B&B or resort. You’re the first woman, besides friends of course that I’ve ever brought here.”

I take a moment to let that soak in and I realize now that his invitation to stay was not an impulsive gesture on his part. A myriad of emotions go through me including shock, fear, and incredible pleasure that this man seems to be as attracted to me as I am to him. I remind myself to breathe, and to accept things as they come with no expectations or insecurity.

“The other thing you should know….” He pulls back, this time stepping back to put me at arm’s length with his hands on my arm. He locks his eyes on mine. “I’m not looking for casual sex. I’m not just looking for kinky games in bed… Don’t be mistaken, in this moment more than anything I want to press you up against this wall to take you right here, but I won’t and I can’t if you don’t feel the same.” His eyes search mine as he goes on. “But if you do…if you do feel the same. If you’re ready to give yourself to me, to give this a try, I have this sense that it will be very, very good. For both of us….”

My head and my heart are swirling, as my chest and pussy come alive with his words. This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve been dreaming of. How could it be this easy? Nothing ever has before. “Trust this,” I tell myself, “At least for the moment let go of your fear Corrine.”

“I feel it too. It’s uncanny how comfortable I am with you. All during our hike. Here in your cabin. Please understand, it’s hard for me to just let go and give myself to someone, but I’ve promised myself I would try. I want to trust you with my body, with my heart… I’ll try my best, but please be patient with me. Outside of Robert I’ve always been in control.”

Patrick gives me a big squeeze. “Just hearing you say you’ll try means more to me than you can ever know.” Then just as he had said he would, he backs me in to the wall behind us, crushing me with his body as his mouth descends on mine. His hands are flat against the wall on either side of my face as he leans down to kiss me. There are no light kisses this time, no gentle swipes of his tongue. He is literally devouring my mouth as his tongue plunges through my lips and locks with mine. His uncontrolled passion causes my breath to escape me with a loud groan as my hands reach behind him, grab his ass, and pull him tight against me. He doesn’t seem to care that I took this initiative and I feel him grind his hard length against my soft body.

His hands descend down my shoulders, arms and waist in one slow, firm drag leaving a trail of burning flesh until they reach my hips where he stops. His grip on me tightens and I can feel each finger pressing in to my flesh through my shorts and pulling me even closer. One of his legs moves between mine just enough so it is firmly nestled between them, his upper thigh tight against my cunt. I can feel his hard erection against my belly and my body responds with an explosion of wetness that soaks in to my panties and shorts. I feel my cunt lips swelling; clenching in a primitive need to be filled.

“Oh fuck, Corrine, I’m going to come in my shorts like a schoolboy if we don’t stop now….” Patrick growls out between kisses.

“No…. No stopping. I can’t….. Please….”

Patrick pulls back and is looking at me; really looking at me. His are dark, pupils dilated, with almost fear in them. Could he be as thrown by this crazy chemistry we seem to have as I am?

“Okay… You’re okay. I’m not going to stop, not just yet.” With that, he abruptly drops to his knees, quickly undoing my belt and shorts, pulling them and my underwear down at the same time. It’s then he realizes my boots are still on and lets out a choked laugh before sitting back on his heels, leaving me standing there trembling with need; my shorts down around my ankles. Feeling suddenly exposed and awkward, I reach for my shorts to pull them back up.

“Leave them.” His voice is calm, yet firm. His first command. My first opportunity to obey. I stop what I’m doing and slowly stand straight again. My heart jumps as I watch his reaction to my compliance. His mouth opens slightly and he lets out his breath. This moment is not lost on him either.

Patrick slowly reaches forward and undoes my shoe laces, then pulls one, then the other boot off. My belt and shorts land with a thud on the floor, and he pulls them and my underwear free tossing them behind him.

“Spread your legs. You may rest your hands on the wall behind you or on my shoulders if you need to balance.”

Again he watches me closely to see how I respond to his order. As if in a trance I spread my legs slowly until they’re a bit more that shoulders length apart. He moves forward and I gently rest my hands on his shoulders, leaning slightly on the wall. Satisfied, Patrick leans forward towards my mostly trimmed pussy and breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as he does. I feel self-conscious and raw. I’ve never been embarrassed or ashamed of my essence, but we’ve just come from an intense hike and I’m sweaty and dirty and oh so very wet. Patrick’s eyes open, briefly making contact with my own before he looks down again straight at my exposed pussy. He reaches forward with both hands, and with his rough thumbs pulls my outer lips apart revealing even more of myself to him. I can feel my cunt juice slide over my swollen inner lips and on to my thighs. My clit is swollen and pulsing, yet all he does is continue to look.

“Patrick,” I tremble. “Please….please touch me. I can’t take this…” My knees are visibly trembling and I’m now using his shoulders to support myself.

“Fuck”, he says as his mouth descends on my inner right thigh where my juices have been leaking. Broad strokes of his tongue on my flesh cause my knees to weaken even more as I throw my head back and clamp my eyes closed. I first feel his hot breath, then his tongue on my pussy lips. He starts a slow exploration of my cunt, each fold licked, nibbled, and sucked on until I’m practically resting all of my weight on his shoulders and pure pleasure is coursing through my veins.

He removes his hands briefly. With one hand he uses his thumb and forefinger to once again spread my lips, exposing my needy clit to him. His other hand begins to use two fingers to stroke the length of my pussy, back and forth; back and forth again before entering my hole in one stroke until his fingers are buried deep inside of me. His ring finger and pinky nestle at my perineum. The tip of his ring finger rests lightly on the clenching ring of my asshole. Inside of me, his two fingers begin to stroke me over and over again along the upper wall, directly on my g-spot, until I feel my orgasm build at an alarming rate. My body is shuddering with intense spasms that threaten to make me collapse in front of him.

“Corrine, don’t hold back. Give it to me…” With those words his mouth drops to my aching clit and he sucks. Hard. My body explodes in an almost painful orgasm and I can feel tears forming at the corners of my clenched eyes. I’m panting so hard I feel dizzy. My orgasm continues to roll through me like ripples in a lake. He’s backed off on the intensity, but continues to just breathe on my cunt as I let go of one last shudder. Patrick eases me down to the ground so that I am kneeling in front of him. He embraces me tightly and I hold on to him for dear life.

Slowly I open my eyes and look around. I realize we’ve only just made it through the front door; our packs lying on the ground beside us. The dogs are back up on the couch, resting quietly.

“That was beautiful. Just beautiful.” Patrick’s warm eyes meet mine and I’m slowly brought back to earth again. He’s looking at me with wonder as his tongue slowly runs across his lips, continuing to taste me. Who is this man and what the hell just happened to me? That was one of the most intense orgasms I’ve had in my life.

“Patrick, that was….holy shit.” I beam at him because it’s all I can do, and all I can think about is that I need to make him feel as good as I do. My eyes drop down and see his incredible erection straining against the confines of his shorts. I eye it hungrily as my hands drop down to his belt. Before I can open it I feel his hands clasp around my wrists and pull them away. I look up; confused and a bit chagrined. He’s still just smiling warmly at me, slowly shaking his head back and forth. The universal sign for ‘no.’

“Before we go there we’re going to need to talk a little. I want everything between us to be safe, consensual, and open from the beginning.” He gets a cocky grin on his face before continuing. “At least that was my plan before I dropped to my knees and brought you to the most lovely orgasm I’ve ever witnessed.” I feel my cheeks go dark crimson, but I’m too happy to be shy at this moment.

“Oh damn,” I sigh. “A man with principles…no fun at all”

We both stand, and I realize I’m still completely bare from the waist down and dash to collect my shorts. Before I can reach them Patrick grabs me around my waist from behind in a playful tackle and lifts me off my feet. “I think I like this look too much to allow you put those back on… besides, you really should try out the shower; my one true luxury here.” True to his word, the shower is quite extravagant in comparison to the rest of the small room. The bathroom itself is quite simple, with a white porcelain sink, toilet, and tile floor. Most of the bathroom is taken up by the shower, itself not too big but it’s absolutely gorgeous; made of stone slabs on the floor and simple matte white subway tile on the walls. The door is clear glass. Inside the shower there is both a hand held shower showerhead on one side and a rainwater showerhead overhead on the ceiling which he turns on.

The water runs initially brown; no surprise out here in the woods, but quickly turns clear. There is a shelf with a simple white bar of soap on a dish, and some two-in-one shampoo/conditioner. I cringe a little because I know my hair is a mess and in need of my good conditioner, but I’m still happy to see it. Patrick’s gone out to retrieve my sack from the floor, bringing it back to me. I drop it back on the floor, and boldly lift my shirt over my head in one motion.

His eyes challenge me to continue and so I do. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, allowing my constrained breasts to relax and rest against my chest, the nipples firm and red in invitation. Patrick reaches his arms forward and gently cups them; measuring their weight in his hands. I close my eyes enjoying his hands on me until I feel him suddenly tweak both nipples hard and release them. I let out a yelp.

“Be careful what you ask for,” he says with a laugh. “Don’t tempt me before we have our talk. Otherwise, the only release I’ll allow myself to have will be to punish you….”

My jaw drops and I back away in mock fear, right in to the shower. It feels amazing and my muscles my just melt as I stand under the rainwater showerhead while the warm water cascades over my shoulders and down my limbs. The water pressure is hard and perfect.

“I’m going to just make sure the place is in order. Do you have some food to feed Griffin?” I point to my sack, too enraptured with the shower to talk. He grabs the food leaving me alone in the shower with my thoughts. Instead of pelting myself with questions and worry, as I’m apt to do, I feel a calm wash over me that feels foreign, but very welcomed. I like him. I really like him. His direct honesty leaves me with no other option but to do the same and it’s very, very liberating. No games. No mystery. No ulterior motives.

I’m thankful that he seemed to be able to keep his head on, even when it was obvious how badly his cock needed relief. The discipline and control he demonstrated brought a level of trust between us that I wouldn’t have expected so soon. I laugh to myself that I could stand to learn from him. Nothing could have held back that intense release he gave me. Holy crap, I thought I was going to melt in to the wood work!

I wash my hair and run my fingers through it to get rid of the tangles. I soap up my body and allow the water to rinse me clean. Grudgingly I turn off the water. A stack of fluffy forest green towels are stacked on a shelf just outside of the shower. I grab one and I dry my body and hair before applying the body lotion. Out of my backpack I pull out my deodorant and makeup. Tonight I just apply a little concealer along with some pressed powder. I tend to wear little unless going out for a nice evening. Amazingly I’m able to comb through my hair, and I leave it long to dry naturally.

In my backpack is a clean bra and underwear, both a simple rose color with a little lace trim. My sundress is a simple cotton tank dress which while loose, conforms to my body before falling loosely just above my knees. It’s jade with a pattern of pink and white Japanese cherry blossoms. I also brought my zipped black hoodie in case it gets cool. Grabbing my flip flops, I head back out to the main room feeling energized and refreshed.

Patrick is sitting on the couch with his shirt off, beer in hand. Another sits on the coffee table unopened. The dogs are once again on the floor, not looking to happy about it. I stop in my tracks and openly gawk at him. I realize I’ve yet to see him with his shirt off and can’t help but stare. While lean, his chest and abdomen are well defined with muscle. His chest is lightly covered in faded brown and slightly grey hair, which continues a delicious trail from his belly button to the seam of his shorts. The black head of his serpent tattoo rests on and over his shoulder, the eyes matching the color Patrick’s perfectly. The serpent appears both sinister and serene at the same time.

My eyes are drawn to a second tattoo, which covers his lower right abdomen and disappears at the seam of his shorts. From what I can see, it’s a lighthouse.

“Can I see the rest of it? Please?” He stands and unbuttons his shorts, lowering them and his cotton briefs just down below his right hip to reveal water crashing on a rocky bluff that is home to the lighthouse. It’s beautiful, and I tell him so. He pulls his shorts back up and motions me to sit with him. I ungracefully fall on the couch next to him and grab the extra beer which he opens for me. It’s cold and delicious. Perfect.

“My father grew up in Nova Scotia. He moved to the states in his twenties, but we’d go visit his family every summer. They lived on the coast and my older sister and I spent most of our time on the rocks outside of this lighthouse. The keeper was just as you’d expect; old and craggy, but he seemed to have a soft spot for us and would let us in and tell us a lifetime’s worth of stories.”

“What an amazing experience for a young boy that must have been for you.”

“It was. I was convinced it would be the life for me when I got older, but I realized long ago that I like to be a part of the world and not just watching. “ He takes his free hand and brushes some loose hair that’s on my cheek behind my ear, sending a light shiver to my core. “You look beautiful Corrine….I’m sitting here in awe that you’re here with me. I hope you know that this isn’t something I take lightly.”

I put my beer down and snuggle against his warm, firm chest. The hairs cushion me lightly and I let out my breath. “I can tell that, and I appreciate you saying so. “ He pulls me closer in to him, and I can hear the slow, rhythmic beating of his heart.

We sit quietly for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts before Patrick speaks again. We have “the talk.” He had himself tested for everything as soon as he heard of his wife’s infidelity, and continued to do so throughout the time he was, in his own words, “whoring around” , despite always practicing safe sex. I tell him I was tested just a few months ago at my annual exam, and haven’t been with anyone since my husband anyway. He recommends that we use condoms until he can show me his most recent results. I appreciate his concern and almost tell him it’s not necessary, but then decide you can’t be too safe.

I tell him I’m not on the pill, but if things work out I plan to restart it. I ask him about this. Although many of my friends have had healthy pregnancies well in to their early forties, I have no desire to have another child. I want him to know this before we move on in case this is something he is still considering for himself. He considers my question for a while, and I get a little nervous.

“After things with Maureen fell apart, I was thankful that we never did have children together. Once I was on my own, and this may sound selfish, I came to terms that I just wasn’t up to having a newborn in my life, so I had a vasectomy. My sister, who has four kids, gave me hell for that but I knew it just wasn’t for me. Instead, I visit my nieces and nephews in San Francisco a few times a year, and became a Big Brother to a great kid, Luka.”

I sit up and just look at him in amazement. “You’re a Big Brother? Tell me about him!”

Patrick tells me all about Luka. He’s ten years old and the son of a single Russian immigrant. A good kid overall but has some delinquency problems and was getting caught shoplifting on a regular basis. His mother does her best, but working two jobs keeps her away from their apartment for most of the days. The police are the ones who hooked her up with the Big Brother program. He was tough to connect with at first, but we seem to have hit it off now.” He laughs and takes a swig of his beer. “I think the tattoos impressed him.” It turns out they started meeting only four months ago, and Patrick spends every Thursday afternoon with him and every other Sunday.

I soak in this unexpected, but incredibly sweet side of Patrick. It tells me a lot about his character that he’d take his time to help a kid in need.

He slowly pushes me back from his chest and looks intently in to my eyes. “We need to talk about our expectations for each other. What we’re looking for, along with safety issues too.”

My heart starts to thud in my chest, and I can only reply, “Okay.”

“I may be a little out of practice, but I know it’s important that we lay this all out now before we start anything too intimate.” I blush and look at the wall by the front door. “Ok, that was pretty intimate but I slipped a little… It’s critical that we be as open with each other about our likes and dislikes. This goes both ways, it’s not all on you. I never, ever want you to pretend you’re enjoying something just to please me. That’s not to say I’m not going to push you out of your comfort zone, because I will, and you might not always like it. Just don’t pretend that you do.”

He lets me take in that information before going on. “I believe in safe words and I expect you to use them. You can pick your own or we can go with the standard ‘yellow’ and ‘red’. Do you know what I mean by this?” I nod. “No. Tell me in your own words.”

Wow. We’re really having this conversation. This is happening…

“Yellow means I need you to pause or slow down. That something is either uncomfortable or I may just need a brief break from what we’re doing.” He seems good with this answer and so I continue. “Red means stop. Whatever we’re doing will end immediately.”

“Good… “ He looks pensive before he continues. “There’s one last thing I’d like to discuss, and that’s what does being submissive mean to you? For myself, I’m primarily looking for submission in the bedroom from you, but there may be times I’d like to explore power exchange outside of the bedroom.” He leans in and kisses my lips softly. “I know this is a lot to consider in the moment and I don’t expect an answer about that if you don’t have one.”

“Oh, um….you’re right. I don’t think I can answer to that just yet. That may be difficult for me. I want to be with you. I want to try my best to submit to you sexually, but I’ve never considered submission outside of that. It took me so long to accept that sexual submission was not a weakness on my part… It may be hard for me to reconcile having you control me on any other level.”

I look at him, worried how he may have taken what I just said. He is obviously thinking about it before he speaks. “I get that Corrine. I understand why you might feel that way. Just understand that if or when we explore it, I don’t view submission, whether in the bedroom or not, as weakness or passivity. Quite the opposite, really. Knowing you’re strong and capable and independent, but able let go of all of that to bend to my will would be such a gift to me.” He’s breathing a little faster as he speaks, and I can see he really means this. I just don’t know if I can go there… It’s more that I was expecting to be challenged with at this point.

He asks me again, “Tell me Corrine. How do you want to submit to me sexually?”

He has been so candid with me. I try to do the same but feel my cheeks redden as I speak. “I want to give my body to you, to serve and please you, but it’s more than that…. It’s hard to put this in to words; it’s just a feeling in my core. “ I pause and try to find the best way to explain it.

“When I think of all the work retreats I’ve gone on, the team building exercises we’re subjected to year after year, there’s one that stands out in my mind. You stand on a high platform with your colleagues below and behind you. You must fall backwards in their arms. You have to trust that they’ll catch you….”

Patrick nods in recognition. “I know the one.”

“Well, I never could do it. I made excuses and jokes, but I wouldn’t do it. Eventually I came to dread the retreats altogether because of this one stupid exercise. Finally, around three years ago I psyched myself up to do it and I did. It was the most exhilarating and freeing thing I’d ever done. I know that sounds pretty lame since I’ve traveled the world and done some crazy and dangerous things in my life, but giving my body over that way got deep in my head, and has been there ever since. “

“My year with Robert was the closest I’ve had to that feeling again.” I look in his eyes, hoping he understands. “But even with Robert, it never felt quite real enough. Since we weren’t in each other’s presence, in my heart I knew he couldn’t possibly know whether I was obeying him or not. I always did, but just the knowledge that I wouldn’t be held accountable for disobeying him unsettled me.”

Patrick smiles. “What a good submissive you were for him.” He pulls me in to his arms and gives me a huge bear hug. I’m instantly comforted and over the awkwardness that was creeping in. He’s good at that. “Okay,” he goes on, “I think that’s enough talk for now. Let’s go enjoy the night!”

It’s beginning to get a little dark outside, so Patrick takes a quick shower, changing in to some dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. While he was in the shower I had a chance to call Addie and see how her weekend is going. We make a plan to cook some dinner together on Sunday evening when she gets home. I tell her I’m with a friend in the gorge, but don’t go in to any details. While she is all for me dating, I don’t want her to know about Patrick quite yet. Grabbing his blanket and a smaller pack with his cleaned camping dishes, we walk in to town and buy some dinner at a local market. He’s had a silly grin on his face since leaving the cabin.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Just a little surprise…I hope you like it.”

We go in to what looks like a little country market from the outside, but they have a wide selection of prepared foods that look gourmet and delicious. We pick out some salads and sandwiches, along with a couple of bottles of locally brewed beer. We continue to walk through, and past the town until we reach the elementary school. In the field is setup an enormous white screen and I realize we’re here for an outdoor movie! In front of the screen some high school aged kids are doing their best to play some covers of Tom Petty until the movie starts.

“Very cool!” I exclaim. “What are we seeing?”

Patrick looks as enthusiastic as I feel. “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory!” he pronounces excitedly. I’ve never seen this side of him. I like it. “The original of course… In all due respect to Johnny Depp, no one can compare to Gene Wilder.”

“I totally agree! Not to mention the girl who plays Veruca Salt….”

We settle on the blanket and eat as the sky darkens and the movie starts. I put my hoodie on as it starts to get cool outside, and as the movie begins Patrick gets behind me and draws me back towards him. I bring my knees towards my belly and turn on my side a little, allowing me to rest my body against him, my head on his chest. His long limbs are braced up with his knees bent, feet on the blanket. He warmly envelops me in his arms. The movie starts and I am as content as I have ever been.

After the movie we walk silently back to the cabin. A lot has been shared and revealed today, and I think neither of us feels the need to press any deeper at this time. For myself, I can feel my body begin to tremor a little. Not from the cold, but from the anticipation of what’s still to come this evening. All through the movie Patrick had been caressing me, or giving the occasional squeeze. Randomly at one point during the movie he brushed my hair aside and gently kissed my neck just behind my ear. These small teases all evening have culminated in my body like kindling would for a fire.

Of course the dogs are on the couch when we get back to the cabin. He makes a show of kicking them off, but we both know they’ll be back on as soon as we go to sleep. I hadn’t packed a toothbrush, but Patrick had brought one for me, looking a little sheepish about his forgone conclusion as he hands it to me. It’s odd how easy and routine this feels, brushing our teeth together in the bathroom. I almost forget how nervous I am…until we’re done and go in to the bedroom. As soon as we do I stop in my tracks.

The room is small, not out of the ordinary at all for a cabin in the woods. There’s a queen sized bed with a chocolaty brown, thick, cotton duvet and lots of downy pillows. The bed itself looks like a black iron or painted steel, with a headboard but no footboard. There’s only room for one nightstand, which is a gorgeous wood and appears handmade. I suspect that Patrick made it, but I’m too on edge to ask at this point. A tall dresser sits along one wall, while the other has two four-paned windows that look in to the woods at the back of the cabin.

I didn’t realize that Patrick had come up behind me. He doesn’t touch me, but as he leans down I can feel his breath on my ear. He asks quietly, “How good are you at orgasm control Corrine?”

Oh shit.

“I know you can come hard and fast, but how well can you hold back?”

I stammer a little. “I…I don’t know what happened before. Usually it takes me a while to come with someone, especially someone new. I can’t always… I don’t know why.”

“But you did; very intensely.”

I’m feeling teased and turn around to see him looking unusually serious. This new look unsettles me, but it’s also turns something on inside of me. I just stare back at him, feeling myself sink a little, to that calm space in my chest where I can feel every molecule of oxygen that I breathe in. Everything else outside of what’s happening between us fades away. He continues, “Could you have stopped if I had asked you to? Just before you came, could you have held back?”

“No,” I answer. “I don’t think I could have.”

“Thank you for answering honestly.” Patrick leans down and gives me a warm and wet kiss, briefly playing his tongue against mine. “I don’t want to play hard tonight. We haven’t even discussed limits yet. I need to feel you, to taste you. I need to be inside of you, soon. The only thing I ask is that you don’t come until I say you can. Can you try that for me?”

I only nod, and he seems okay with my mute answer this time because he grabs me by my waist and launches the two of us on to the bed. I scramble up towards the headboard as I watch him unselfconsciously tear off his clothes. I’m practically panting as he pulls his jeans and boxer briefs off, revealing quite truly the most beautiful, fully erect cock I’ve ever seen. It’s long, thick, and beautifully veined. The head of his cock is a deep crimson, with a pearl of pre-cum at its crown.

He’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, and all I know is I want his cock in my mouth. Now. Submissive or not