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As I was leaving my room in Prague’s Metamorphis Hotel the door latched behind me at exactly the same instant the door to the next room clicked shut. Dressed for my morning run in black tights and a solid aqua colored short-sleeved running shirt, I said good morning to the man who had just emerged from the room next to mine and began down the hall.

“Excuse me,” he said in lightly accented American English. I stopped to look back at the tall brown-haired man who was turning his key in the lock.

“Yes?”

“You must lock your door with the key, it’s not automatic,” he reminded me.

Oh, yeah,” turning, I dug the key from the tiny pocket inside the waistband of my tights and locked my door. “Thanks” I said and walked to the elevator.

“My pleasure”, he responded, as he followed me into the small four-person lift.

He looked ridiculous. He wore an oversized orange and white long sleeved T with Rabobank printed across both front and back. Funny, I pronounced it Rob-a-bank in my head. He also had on baggy NBA style basketball shorts – orange and brown but a different, not-even-close-to-matching shade of orange – and blue Adidas running shoes. My quick assessment: super-geek!

“Do you know where to go,” he asked in flawless English.

“Go?” I asked.

“On your run, do you have a direction?”

“Nope, first day, fighting jet lag. I was going to explore…”

“Follow me, if you like, I’ll take the most beautiful route I know. 5K ok?” He asked grinning broadly.

“Sure,” I agreed, grateful for any company, goofy dresser or not.

Prague is often called the most beautiful city in the world and this morning it was easy to understand why. The early morning sun was making the tops of the tallest buildings glow magnificently. There were red roofs atop white walls and gold highlights shimmering brightly. Many of the street lamps were still illuminated adding to the early morning sparkle.

Together we jogged along the north edge of The Old Town Square to the Vitava River where a left turn sent us upstream to the Charles Bridge before looping through other parts of the Old Town district back to the Hotel.

The streets were active with street cleaners, gardeners, marble polishers and delivery people. Curiously, many of them grinned broadly and waved at us.

His name was Ben and he spoke sparingly, just enough to point out the sights, but this he did breathing easily. Crossing the square we saw the magnificent Astronomical Clock and then, along the river, the so-called “dancing building” or “Fred and Ginger” because the architecture resembles a dancing couple. He asked if I liked to dance. I responded with a nod and a yes. He then pointed out another building saying it was the best discotheque in Prague with four floors featuring different music styles on each one. In the 40 minutes it took us to do the loop that, along with comments on a few more buildings, is about all he said.

Even though he didn’t say much Ben was a good listener. He showed genuine interest in my new position with the Eastern European edition of a successful magazine for independent women. Only 24, I was fortunate to have landed a dream job like this just two years after graduating with my journalism degree.

Keeping up with his pace pushed me often to shortness of breath. I still somehow managed to go on about myself. I think because I couldn’t bear the void of his silence.

Later, back in my room, I realized I didn’t learn very much about Ben at all. Some journalist , I chided myself. All I could say for sure is he had nice shoulders, a nice smile and wore goofy looking clothes to run.

After a quick shower, make-up and clothes, I determined I had plenty of time to try the continental breakfast in the hotel. Ben was already in the dining room and gestured to me to join him. In blue jeans, ivory dress shirt and black blazer he appeared considerably less geeky than he did in his running togs. The broad shoulders were still there but now it became evident he was quite lean, when he walked back to the buffet I could see he had narrow hips and no butt. From across the table his eyes were liquid cobalt. My reassessment: Handsome Viking.

Missing my first chance to learn about this laconic man, I turned up my journalistic talents and conducted what amounted to an interview with a reluctant subject. It was like being on a chat room receiving only monosyllabic responses. However, I did learn that he was born in Massachusetts to an American father and a Danish mother but grew up in Copenhagen from the age of two. He attended college and graduate school in the states and he was here as a guest lecturer at the University of New York in Prague for the coming spring semester.

He had only arrived the week before and had already found an apartment he would move into the next week.

My first official day at the office wouldn’t be until Monday, but I went in right after breakfast to get oriented. It turned out I was given just enough time to find my desk before I received my first assignment. At 3pm I was in the waiting room of a Czech doctor who had authored yet another diet book, another variation of the low carb theme. The appointment had been made weeks earlier. My arrival in Prague allowed it to fall to me. Obviously this guy was not very high on the list if they gave it to the new girl not yet even on the payroll.

My editor gave me the address, a metro map and fare. Her name was Deirdre and was from London, appearing to be only a few years older than me, maybe 30 , I thought. Deirdre assured me it would be a splendid way to learn the “trolleys” – the transportation system – but cautioned me to give myself plenty of time. She also told me I’d be having dinner with her at 8 and scrawled the name and address of a restaurant on a card. “After that we’re going clubbing so wear sophisticated sexy.”

Waiting for Doctor Rotsenovic gave me time to again consider Ben. Picturing him in his comic running getup brought a smile to my face. His quiet reticent manner seemed challenging and magnetic. Men usually split themselves open to me if I return half a glance. This one gave me nothing but nice manners. I tried to picture his face and all I could see were his dancing blue eyes as they engagingly drank in my conversation during breakfast. Trying to conjure any other part of him produced only that goofy two-tone orange jogging costume and brought a grin to my lips.

The diet doctor was an easy interview, self-centered and full of his new celebrity. When he wasn’t hitting on me, he talked a lot about his diet, and even more about himself. Smarmy is a description that came to mind for Dr. Rotsenovic. By the time we concluded the interview I felt like I wanted a bath.

Thankfully, there was plenty of time for one before dinner with Deirdre. Back in my room I drew a shallow bath and reclined while the water continued to run. The warmth felt soothing, relaxing. I squeezed the washcloth over my arms and neck and breasts enjoying the sensation of the warm dribbling water. The fragrance of the soap was foreign to me, light, but not overly sweet.

I gave in to the intoxicating effects of the bath, closed my eyes and began wondering what Ben might be doing. Was he in his room next door? Was he still at work? I envisioned now not Ben the super geek, but Ben the Viking; his quiet smile, his long arms. I imagined what the rest of him supporting the broad shoulders might be like; firm flat chest, forged abs and rippling lean flanks? What was it about him that was so enticing? Was it that he was so unusually calm and collected?

Men were often nervous around me, I never really understood why; I don’t think of myself as beautiful – I have a list of flaws that would fill a book. But in eleventh grade Assistant Principle Reynolds once told me, when I was called to his office for dress code violation, that I was no longer allowed to wear the immodest style of clothes made popular by pop stars, even though the other girls did, because it was different for me. I exuded too much of “whatever It was that boys liked,” he said, “It’s as if you’re in a library where all the girls are whispering the same words, except you are yelling them.”

Now I was older and more sophisticated in stature and wardrobe, yet my sexuality still seemed to ooze from me just as much. In truth I’ve not only come to accept it, I’ve learned how to use it.

Boys who didn’t get nervous were dangerous. The nervous ones never broke my heart. Don’t get me wrong I could fall in love with the nervous ones as easy as anyone. The trouble is that I was far more likely to be the one who broke their poor hearts when I would suddenly loose interest for some moody dark-brooding bi-polar bastard just because of his rare indifference to me.

But Ben was not dark and brooding. He was cheerful and smart and a little goofy, on purpose, I supposed. He’s the kind of guy street workers waved to on his morning run just because he was goofy and friendly and cordial. I decided that he was not indifferent toward me, but confident and self-assured. As I considered Ben, my fingers, which had found their way to my vagina, were slowly making circles on my sensitive little nub. Lateral ellipses allowed my three middle fingers, held flat and firm, to washboard over the alert area. With the image of Ben’s deep blue eyes watching me it was only a matter of moments for me to feel a mild orgasm resonate through the core of my body. I sloshed about enough in the tub to splash small waves over the rim.

After relaxing a bit longer in the warm water, I shaved the stubble from my legs and pubic area, finished my bath and then did my hair and make-up. At that the real task began, deciding what to wear for the evening. After trying on three different outfits, I chose a silver lame’ blouse with a black micro skirt and don’t-you-just-wish high-heeled sandals. Underneath I wore a black lace bra and black thong. And topped everything off with large silver hoop earrings and a silk black and silver shawl.

I asked the concierge for directions to the restaurant and met Deirdre, my editor, right on time. If Deirdre had dressed any hotter she’d have been breathing fire. She wore a shimmering black stretch mini dress that clung to her like paint. The top construction was a bustier complete with lacing in the middle of her back. Straps went over her shoulders and braced her breasts above the top of the bodice. In comparison I felt as conservative as the Queen Mum.

The restaurant was a tiny place, with only eight tables. The service was impeccable and the food was delectable. We had finished our opening course, our first glasses of wine, and were onto soup when at the entrance appeared a tall woman of magnificent beauty. Long limbed with straight satiny black hair blunt cut just above her shoulders and bangs straight across at her eyebrows, she was so striking I couldn’t avert my gaze. Her oversized almond shaped eyes were framed by cheekbones that seemed to wrap under and around the outside of each of them. She wore an impeccably tailored business skirt-suit hemmed just above the knee. Materializing behind her was the man who had held the door for his date. It was Ben.

No wonder he wasn’t nervous around me - he dated fashion models! My heart was still plummeting when he said “Hi Jessica, What a nice surprise to see you again, I’d like you to meet Sonia.” Then to Sonia, “This is Jessica, the girl I told you about, the one I ran with this morning.” A smile forced itself onto Sonia’s mouth accompanied by a head nod.

“And this is Deirdre, my editor at the magazine.” I said while screaming to myself Oh my god, he told her about me? Why would he do that?

 

“Nice to see you again, Sonia, and nice to meet you Ben,” Deirdre said.

 

“You know each other?” Ben asked.

“Yes, we’ve met,” Deirdre replied.

After a short pause in which nothing more was said, Ben broke the silence. “I’m sure you have plenty to talk about…and I see our table is waiting.”

“Nice to meet you Jessica, and of course Deirdre.” Sonia said in a surprisingly pleasant eastern European lilt and accent. As they moved to their table ten feet away, Deirdre with a hand covering the side of her face and an eyebrow raised made me think she could read my thoughts.

“Never mind why he told her about you, why didn’t you tell me about him?”

She whispered and smiled.

I answered with an I-don’t-know face and a shrug.

Our dinner conversation was mostly Deirdre filling me in on the idiosyncrasies of my job at the magazine and the things she would be expecting of me in my comportment inside and outside of the office. She also told me that life would no doubt be fun for me here in Prague and to make the very best of it. Along with all that came the stern warning that I “may never, never miss a deadline.” If we talked of more than that I didn’t get it all because my attention was repeatedly diverted to Ben and Sonia. I almost constantly searched for signs of intimacy between them or anything that might offer an insight into their relationship. Nothing did.

Following dinner and after saying good night to Ben and Sonia, Deirdre and I left for our next stop, the Karlovy Lazne Dance Club. When the cab dropped us off I recognized the building Ben pointed out to me on our morning run – the discotheque with four floors. It was Friday night and there was a long line to get in. There was no line in a short rope aisle with a small blue plastic sign that was engraved with a stylized rose.

The bouncers at the door smiled at us said “Hello, Deirdre” together and then “Hello” to me.

“Hans and Joseph, meet Jessica, the new girl at the magazine,” Deirdre introduced me.

“Nice to meet you Jessica,” Hans said in a heavy accent of clipped English. His muscles rippling under his tight black t-shirt. I almost laughed out loud thinking of that old TV skit of Hans and Franz

Joseph chimed in with a similar accent, “ Whenever you come Jessica, whether with the Queen Bee here or not, just come by the sign of the rose.”

“Thanks,” I said, as we entered through the door Hans held open for us, “Nice meeting you both”.

Inside, the place was thronging with 20, 30 and 40 year olds dancing to techno-beat dance music being spun by a DJ high up on the back left wall. There were screens on the upper parts of the walls on two sides of the cavernous room. Separated by a high glass half wall just to our right as we walked in was an elevated section providing access to what had to be the longest bar I’d ever seen. It continued along the entire right side wall to the back wall. There were also people, mostly girls, dancing just on the bar side of the glass wall. Looking up you couldn’t help but see their thongs under their short skirts.

Deirdre pulled me through a number of dancers close to the center of the floor and started dancing with me. The way dancers moved here was a bit different than in New York but not much and it didn’t take me long to give myself up to the music. It didn’t take long for guys to be dancing around us either, like bees circling in on flowers. Deirdre was an unabashed flirt.

As Deirdre danced with a guy she would play up to him and at some point turn her back to him and turn her head and invitingly glance at him over her shoulder. She’d bend her knees into a little stoop and arch her back a couple of times sexily offering her tight little butt. If the guy didn’t have his crotch up against her by the second stoop, she would turn around and continue dancing with a girlish insouciance.

If the guy moved in, joining her rhythm of bumping and grinding, she would push her butt into him and even reached back with a hand on the side of his thigh. His hands would roam up and down her body. They would dance dirty like that for a little while before she would turn around again. Almost involuntarily each time she moved away I would glance down to see if she had gotten a ‘rise’ out of the boy and each time it was plain that she indeed had. Deirdre would sometimes then move in on them and wrap herself into them with one leg tight between theirs

Being a natural flirt myself, I barely missed a beat before following Deirdre’s lead. Drinks were passed to us but Deirdre waved them off and shook her head at me. As time went on I got emboldened in my dancing and I didn’t need to glance down at my own partners to tell if I was getting a ‘rise’ out of them.

It was giddily intoxicating to feel their hardening members rubbing up against my ass. A couple of guys grabbed my hips pretty tight and pulled me in close. I twisted free almost immediately, kept dancing, smiled real big and sexy and tick-tocked my index finger in front of their faces. One of those boys, actually a rather small, wiry compact guy, pressed what felt like a tree limb against me.

After a couple more songs Deirdre grabbed me and we headed toward the water closet. Along the way she warned against ever drinking anything handed to me like that. “You could end up a slave hooker in Bangkok”

We stopped at one of the bars and Deirdre bought us each something refreshing, potent and familiar: Red Bull and vodka. Then we wound through the crowd to a stairway and we ascended to the next level.

This level was driven by hip-hop, and driven hard. The basic arrangement of the place was similar to the first level but the look and feel of the décor was so completely dissimilar as to be a different place.

Red Bull and Vodka’s finished, Deirdre and I were in the thick of it all over again. The bees came buzzing. By the second song I was sandwiched between two good-looking guys, one an almost albino white blonde and the other chocolate brown. Both were gorgeous. The tall white guy had sculpted facial features that reflected the well-chiseled torso evident beneath his tight shirt. He had short spiky hair. The black guy was stockier, shorter and thicker, with a smooth shaved head. I cold feel both of their cocks semi-hard against me, one in front against my hip and belly, and the other, the brown one, behind me. I turned up the sex ooze a little. All thoughts of Ben dashed on the shores of Sonia; I decided to set these boys on fire. By the time the DJ blended the song into the next I could feel their full shanks against me. Their hands were all over me. I felt so naughty, sexier than ever before in my life. I was wet, so wet I was soaking the patch of my thong. Running on the verge of losing all control, I was ready to take either one of them back to my room right then. I new they wanted me, their desire was already searing my skin. I had never been with anyone like either of these guys. The Idea of the man of marble was exciting because he was so solid and raw looking, but then this was the best looking black man I had ever seen. I had never been with a black guy. When he reached one arm across my abdomen, his hand pushed high up under my breast while his other pushed up my micro skirt and cupped my bare ass, and said, “You’re coming with me gorgeous,” the decision was made. I thought he would carry me away.

I leaned into him and closed my eyes. Suddenly a strong grip on my arm startled me. Other hands withdrew and I shakily centered my own feet under me. “Hello chaps,” Deirdre said, as she was pushing me out from between them.

“Hello Deirdre,” they chimed together in singsong voices of different accents.

“I see you’ve met Jessica,” she said sweetly.

“Hello Jessica,” they said together again.

“You are one hot dancer, Jessica,” the black guy complimented me.

“Jessica’s one of my girls at work, and if you chaps ever do anything besides dance with Jessica, I warn you, you will be using strap-ons for the rest of your lives.” This was said in an affectedly sweet tone of voice that was so chilling as to carry the weight of a significant threat.

Deirdre kept pushing me beyond them and we were on our way to the next level. “Those two are criminal predators,” she said. “They are gay, hardcore sadists and very mean. They take a girl home and use her as a plaything. The brutality gets them all hopped up. After that it’s demonized sex with each other. It’s a night you would never forget no matter how hard you tried.”

Minutes later we were on the next higher floor. This too was like a whole different club featuring 70’s disco revival music. There were lots of disco balls and lit floor panels. We finished another round of Red Bull and vodkas under a large screen onto which images from Saturday Night Fever and other disco icons were projected, then wended our way into the dancing crowd to the familiar beat of Staying Alive .

A bit less carefree after the encounter with the gay sadists, I was making an effort to keep the “sex ooze” under control. The dance crowd on this floor was a broader mix of ages and a bit less wild and sexually aggressive than the hip-hop floor. People were dancing with no one in particular, just kind of cross dancing with one partner for a few moments before turning and dancing with someone else. A couple of guys sidled up turning from me to Deirdre or Deirdre to me, but when they didn’t get the kind of responses they were looking for they moved on.

One guy eventually focused in on me for a few songs and even took hold of my hands as we danced. Toward the end of Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff he twirled me and as I went around I caught a glimpse of Ben standing almost right behind me. When I turned around to look again he was smiling with that big grin at me while dancing with Sonia.

The next thing I knew Sonia and Ben were dancing within our group. Sonia was no longer in her business suit but had changed into a classy black party dress.

I was in envy of her sophisticated beauty.

Ben was no John Travolta, but he wasn’t one of those goofy dancers either. Judging from my early morning first impression this was something of a surprise and relief. Sonia danced rather stiffly as if she were afraid something might break. She still looked good, but not as sexy as I expected. That was before Deirdre came up behind her and put her arms around her and said something into her ear that got Sonia to smile, bend her legs a little more and move more with the music.

When Summer’s Last Dance came on it was a real change of pace at first and because I was standing next to Ben he took me into his arms to dance the first slow part of the song holding me close. At once I knew he was a good dancer. Every part of him telegraphed our next move with a sureness that made me giddy. His shoulders, his hips, his thighs, and his hand that held mine and especially his other hand pressing into the small of my back all provided a chorus of tiny signals that made following his lead automatic. I had never felt so much like one with a dance partner before.

When the song broke into the faster tempo he squeezed his hand firmly into the small of my back to let me know he was keeping me close. We moved quicker, in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. My feet were moving between his and his between mine. There was not even a hint of a trip-up in spite of the quickness of our steps. The music, the rotating reflected disco-ball lights, my jet lag, the vodka and Ben’s sure touch all combined to make my head swirl. I felt magically caressed wherever his body touched mine. The caress was gentle and sensual as we glided through a series of complicated movements flawlessly.

He was in complete command of me. I would lean into the turns when his movements told me they were coming. I would roll my hips in unison with his. I would arch my back away from him when I sensed he wanted me to and return into him fully at exactly the right time. I let myself go for him and with him and I finally experienced dancing on air. The only words spoken were “I love how you move”, whispered just once into my ear. I was floating deliriously in the arms of this handsome Viking.

When “Last Dance” gave way to “Bad Girls ” Ben released his grip and took me by the hands for a little jitterbug style dancing before spinning me free to dance as I had when I first saw him. I glanced over at Deirdre who, still dancing with Sonia, smiled back at me with an approving nod. Sonia smiled at me too.

My world was spinning off axis with confusion. Why would Ben’s date be smiling at me? Or even Deirdre for that matter? The sensuality of the dance with Ben was so overwhelming that only as it dissipated did I realized there was very little sexuality involved. As new and exciting as the sensations of dancing with Ben were for me, and even with his liking “the way I move”, I could not tell if I was exciting him. Even pressed up against him I could feel no hardening of his cock.

Watching Ben dance with Deirdre and Sonia I realized he wasn’t “on the make”.

He and Sonia were obviously happy with each other and comfortable together. If he has only been in Prague a week, how could they be so close already?

I finally gave up on my growing infatuation with Ben and turned my dancing to some of the other guys that had worked their way into my vicinity. Before long I was dancing once again with the reckless sexual abandon I had earlier in the night. Almost. I was unable to clear Ben completely from my mind. Even after a few dances with a cute Austrian boy about my age that wound his arms around me and put his hands on my hips, my sides and high on my stomach up under my breasts I would wonder about Ben. Even after I could feel the firm cock of the Austrian pressing against me when we got close, I kept glancing over at Ben. Each time I did I found him looking at me.

Most of the time Ben would meet my glance with a smile so big it would disarm any ability to be coy and caused me to look back and smile in spite of myself. It was goofy. What was it about this guy that was so beguiling? I asked myself.

I became determined to not go home alone and lost track of Ben, Sonia and Deirdre as I turned up the heat on the Austrian boy for the next couple of songs. He was ready and needy. I was just thinking about how I might teach him a few things, when Deirdre put a hand on my shoulder to hold me still. “I’m leaving,” she said into my ear. “Sonia has a car, only a little two-seater, and offered to drive me. Ben agreed to see you back to the Hotel. OK?”

I looked in the direction of Deirdre’s head tip that accompanied this directive to see Ben and Sonia standing off to the side of the dance floor. Ben gestured a timid wave: something reminiscent of what Clark-fucking-Kent might do.

I looked at the Austrian boy who had also stopped dancing and taken hold of my hand possessively. I looked over at Ben, and back to the Austrian. “Enigmatic Ben, or a sure thing?” I asked myself but the answer was already in my head.

Using his grip to pull myself into the Austrian, I kissed him full open on the lips as I took one stroke up and one stroke down the front of his pants over his firm bulge. “Good night sweet prince, thanks for the dance. I’ll look for you next time.” I walked off with Deirdre without looking back and continued right on past Ben and Sonia without stopping. I felt bad for the Austrian boy.

Sonia’s car was brought to the club by the valet. It was tiny! It was the first SMART car I had seen. It was like a bubble on wheels. Double cheek kisses passed all around before she and Deirdre got in and drove off.

“Cab or Walk?” Ben asked. “There’s a moon.”

“It’s three in the morning!” I said, “and I’ve been dancing in these shoes for hours.” Ben looked down as I wagged the front of my left high-heeled shoe.

Ben pressed something into the doorman’s hand and said “The Metamorphis please”. The doorman whistled for a cab.

It was a short cab ride to the hotel. Ben was quiet and gentlemanly. “You must be dying from the traveling and first day excitement,” was all that he said.

“Uh huummmm,” was the only thing he got out of me as I laid my head against the seatback and closed my eyes.

In front of the Metamorphis Ben helped me out of the cab and with his arm around my waist walked me through the small lobby into the lift. My head was on his shoulder.

In front of the doors to our rooms I was digging for the key in my clutch purse. Ben stood in front of me without moving. Before finding my key I became aware of his focus on me, stopped my search and looked up at him. He placed a hand gently on each side of my face and held me still. Looking straight into my eyes he said, “How wonderful that our paths kept crossing today, Jessica. You are a magnificent girl. You will do well in Prague.” He then kissed me on my mouth, furtively, gently.

Careful not to reveal my growing hunger for him, I returned his kiss just as cautiously.

“Think I’ll skip my morning run,” he said with that goofy grin of his, “perhaps I will see you at breakfast?”

“I’ll knock when I go downstairs,” I said and comically sampled my grandfather’s knock on my door as a kid, “Shave and a haircut…two bits.” Bump, bump ba-bum bump...Bump-BUMP!

Finally finding my key, I turned to my door, unlocked it, said “Goodnight “ and entered my room. Closing the door, I sank back against it in exhaustion and self-pity. For what, I didn’t know.

“Don’t forget to latch it,” Ben said though the door.

I smiled to myself and turned the bolt. Smoky and a little grimy from the night of partying, I stripped off my clothes, took a quick shower and washed my hair.

Reinvigorated, I admired my breasts in the mirror as they heaved and bounced under the effort of toweling my hair dry. I brushed my teeth and did a little flossing, replaying the events of the day. Not bad, girl. No, no, MAGNIFICENT! You will do well in Prague. I repeated to myself.

I slipped my chemise over my head and just before climbing into bed I reached up next to the headboard and tapped out on the wall, the wall separating Ben’s room from mine: Shave and a haircut…

I waited for the “bump-BUMP” response from Ben, but almost a minute went by and I was already in bed before it came…on my door.

When I opened the door, Ben stood wonderfully shirtless, framed by the dim late night hallway light, in blue silk pajama pants the color of his eyes. He stepped into my room, closed the door behind him, turned the bolt, took me in his arms and kissed me with a desire so unrestrained, a passion so full of fire that each nerve, every synapse of my body was suddenly awake and vibrating.

My arms, which had splayed away from my body like wings when I first bent back over Ben’s arms, came up around his neck as my mouth opened to receive his lips and probing tongue. Suspended on my arms and his, I encircled his waist with my legs. Ben turned and pinned my back against the wall and leaned into me searching my mouth with his sensual tongue. His hands moved down my sides and wrapped under my bottom to lift me taller and easier to kiss. With me secured against the wall his hands now freely roamed my body like a conquering army assessing new territory.

I released my arms from around his neck, pulled my chemise over my head and dropped it to the floor. I then crossed my arms over my head against the wall stretching my elbows out and shoulders back to open myself up to Ben’s exploration. He took advantage of the opening to kiss my neck and shoulders working his way down to nuzzle my breasts. First my left nipple slid into his mouth as he rolled it between his lips and teased it to full harness with his teeth. Satisfied, he moved to the right one, teasing it firm with minute flicks of his tongue that sent current toward both my brain and my vagina making me moan a little. Eventually Ben just pressed his face full against my tits nuzzling, sucking and licking with such abandon that he too moaned.

I became aware that there was no stubble on his face; that he must have shaved for me. The bastard was so sure of himself! I thought, and I didn’t care. The realization made me want him more.

“To bed,” I breathed into his ear, “take me to bed.” So from being pressed against the wall of the room I was carried by Ben to my bed, his route navigated by the dim grey light of the moon spilling through my window. He bent to lower me to the bed and extended his arms to set me gently onto the mattress. The hard end of his cock inside his silky pajama bottoms grazed my buttock and then released suddenly away as it passed by my already soaking pussy.

He stood next to the bed facing my open naked body lying before him. My legs were still loosely tangled around his knees. In the pale light I could see his chest, the ripples of his abdomen and the distended bulge inside his pajama bottoms. His fingers were at the drawstring, taking too long, fumbling, teasing me, before saying his first words since entering my room, “You look so beautiful in the moonlight, Jessica. Like some glorious gift sent to me today…I wanted you from the moment I saw you this morning.”

He stretched the front waistband of the pajamas outward and tipped the stick of his bulge upward to clear it and let the pants fall away revealing his gift for me. I inhaled sharply, almost a gasp, at the sight. Classically perfect in shape and size, it curved upward in defiance of gravity.

He took a firm grip on my upper arm and pulled me toward him. I unhooked my leg from him and let myself pivot on my back to parallel the edge of the bed. I looked up past his cock to search his eyes, which in the dim light were but dark recesses. Still, I knew what he wanted.

I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up on one arm lifting my face even with the end of his shaft. I caught the tip the bead of precum that beckoned me by glistening in the moonlight on the tip of my outstretched tongue. I licked it into my mouth creating a tendril that connected us for a split second before it broke half onto my chin and half back onto him. His cock was seemingly vibrating with the tight strain of his desire, my tease of the tip. I brought my tongue again to the end to get that last taste. The split that was the source of his dew tensed open and I stiffened my tongue to probe it. Unable to tease him any longer and unable to restrain myself any longer I opened my mouth and engulfed the beautiful head by working my lips around it slowly until they folded over the pronounced ridge. I lightly squeezed it with my teeth feeling the wonderful texture of his engorged flesh yielding to the slight pressure of my gentle gnawing. I then worked my lips back off and then slowly back on.

He put his hands in my hair. I could tell he was being careful not to push on the back of my head. I could feel his hands tremble. Before withdrawing my mouth a second time I wrapped the fingers of my other hand around his shaft, the half of it closer to the base. I then covered all of the rest of it with my mouth until my lips pushed against the edge of my fist.

Then, wanting to dazzle and surprise this mysterious man, I did the bravest thing I’ve ever done. I removed my hand and continued to crawl my lips further up the length of his shaft dragging my throat up over the head. I couldn’t fight back the need to gag so I backed off and replaced my hand onto his saliva-moistened shaft and stroked it as I looked up at him. He looked down at me with a sort of numb smile on his face. An involuntary giggle escaped me making his smile grow and shine. I beamed back in return.

Determination took over. I moved into a sitting position on the edge of the bed all the while kneading the head of his cock between the side of my index finger and my thumb. I licked the end again, this time while looking up at him. I brought my other hand up to cup his hanging ball sack stroking with two fingers the area where the very back of it met his body between his legs. Then, as I slowly pushed the hand I had curled around his shaft down along it toward his body I followed with my mouth. When my lips again collided with my fist I paused a moment, before removing my hand and continuing to drag my throat, now in a better position to open, over the knob with my crawling lips and conveying tongue.

His hands on the back of my head were rooting for me, not exactly pushing my head onto his cock, but exerting a sure pressure against retreat. Tilting my head back with chin forward to straighten my neck I pressed on to the verge of gagging then beyond as the head miraculously slid beyond my throat. My nose and face continued on to press firmly, victoriously against his abdomen. I retreated just enough to feel the ridge of his knob on the backside of the narrows of my throat and plunged my nose forthright into him again. On my forth cycle of this, while I was still amazing myself and before I could get into a rhythm I felt him gently drawing my head back by my hair in a desperate attempt to preserve his orgasm. But the quivering of his legs organized into a convulsive bucking of his hips and my hand on his balls felt them tighten. I reached further behind to the pucker of his ass and pushed firmly to discourage any retreat. He was mine and he came willingly, deeply, forcefully and spastically into my throat. I never actually tasted him, but upon his withdrawal I knew he tasted good. I made a mental note that the next time I would have him on my tongue.

Ben fell onto the bed next to me dragging me backward by my shoulders to lie next to him. He rolled onto his side towards me and kissed me carefully. His passion rekindled quickly, his kisses more intense. He reached across my body over my breast and put his hand high on my opposite side just beneath my arm and pulled me sharply against him. “That is some kind of black magic you possess, my sweet Jessica. Nice to know there’s a basis for your awesome sex appeal.” He said, smiled briefly, and lowered himself to kiss me again as he rolled on top of me without releasing my mouth from his. I put my hands in his hair. When he lifted himself to look down into my eyes my arms encircled our little world.

He lowered to kiss me again and then drew his head to nuzzle under my chin. I tilted my head back. Were he a vampire or a werewolf he could have bitten my throat. Reading my thoughts his teeth gently gripped and released sections of my throat as he worked down to my already heaving breasts. Please hurry I thought.

Ben took his time. I had sucked the hurry out of him. He slowly kissed his way down my sternum. With my hands still in his hair I closed my arms to pinch his face with my tits. He moaned a muffled appreciation and nuzzled under the right one playfully nudging it upward. He found the nipple and played it in circles with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. It felt good. My hands were still in his hair feeling his head moving as he worked my nipple with his mouth. When he moved his head across to the left breast he covered and gently massaged the abandoned breast with his hand allowing the hardened nipple to find its way between two of his fingers keeping it tight. I moaned as my breasts swelled under his skillful touch. His mouth bringing my left nipple to hardness sent shivers through my body that made my vagina crackle with the heat of anticipation.

The pain of Ben’s slow progress was exquisite. My exhaustion and Ben’s touch were affecting me like a drug. I was trembling and my moaning, while deep and quiet, had become regular. It felt like I was purring as he kissed his way down my abdomen.

When he arrived at the very center of my world he gained purpose in his movements. He kissed the inside of one thigh and grazing his lips over the freshly shaven ones of my pussy moved across to kiss the inside of the other. He then extended his tongue and ran the tip of it along the inside fold of the left outer lip of my pussy down then up in slow recycling strokes. This he did again on the opposing outer lip. I wanted to scream, but I wanted whatever might be coming next even more.

It was worth the wait to finally feel him press his mouth, his face and, of course his tongue, into my sopping flower. He rooted side to side to get innermost, his tongue exploring everywhere, his lips gently drawing in, pinching and releasing each petal. I could already feel myself giving in to my first orgasm, itself still just a warm purr, when Ben followed his tongue up the center of me to find the bulb of my nerves. He puckered his lips around it and vacuumed it into his mouth. The sensation jolted my body and stole my breath with a catch. I had felt nothing like it before. He did it again with increased pressure. Again the jolt came and again the catch in my breath. He relaxed the grip of his mouth and pushed at the button with his tongue for a moment of reprieve before drawing the glowing bulb back in through his re-pursed lips again and again and again.

The jolts gave way to expectation. Expectation gave way to the calm acceptance of the rhythm of my clit passing in and out of the narrow opening of his lips. The rhythmic pumping action relentlessly tugged upon my orgasm, drew it up like rich oil from deep within the center of me by tapping into my very soul and overwhelming my consciousness. I came in body wracking convulsions of relief and emotion and a flooding wetness.

I pushed on my heels propelling myself along the bed away from him in defense of my suddenly hypersensitive clitoris. Ben retreated as I covered myself with my hand and rocked from side to side as the last vestiges of my intense orgasm washed from me like retreating shore break. Then he was next to me stroking matted tendrils of hair from my face and kissing me gently once again.

It felt good to feel his fingers massage my hairline, the edges of my face. At first I thought I would never want to move. His kisses however, caring and cautious and perfumed by my own scent, rekindled my passion immediately. I kissed him back exuberantly, excitedly and appreciatively. I pushed to roll over onto him but he pinned me down and continued to kiss my face, my mouth, my neck and my breasts.

He separated my legs with his and I could feel him again hard against me. He lifted himself above me on his pinning arms forcing my forearms into the mattress. “Did I tell you that you have the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen? Or did I merely think it?” He asked smiling.

I returned his smile in silence.

“Well, you do have, by far let me add, the most beautiful tits as well as the most wonderfully delicious…” He cut himself off and snapping a quick jolt onto my pinned forearms demanded, “Are you ready for me?”

I remained silent for a few heartbeats before beaming another smile and further spreading my knees while crossing my ankles on the backs of his upper thighs. I answered him by pulling on the backs of his buttocks with my heels. I felt the head of his cock push against my clit and pop over the top of it. He pulled back to realign with me. I could feel a shift of weight on my arms telling me that he was preparing to use his hand.

“Don’t,” I said. “Give it time to find it’s own way.” He settled back and when I felt the aim was true I pulled up again with my heels and he pierced me. Oh, my God, my head spun in a scream to itself. He slowly pushed deeper and deeper into me so easily stretching my slick passage. He was filling me up. The head of his cock or the ridge or both pressured the front wall of my opening triggering erotic pleasures along the way.

His full strong confident strokes were soon like a stallion at full gallop and I was on for a race toward ecstasy. I re-wrapped my legs above his hips taking my pelvis to a higher tilt. Completely pinned to the bed at three points the sensation of being pushed and pounded combined with the action along the front of my tunnel to get my synapses firing all at once.

“I’m cumming!” I forced out, looking into his disturbingly calm face, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” I bucked and then my whole body stiffened fiercely against the restraint of his weight. He eased his stroke as my orgasm passed.

Becalmed, I smiled again. I strained to move my head to kiss his hand still pinning my forearm. I could not reach it. He smiled at me and said, “I’m not through with you.”

“Then kiss me.” I pleaded. He complied. Powerfully.

Then he said into my ear, “Swing your legs on top of my shoulders.”

Repositioned, he began his boldest strokes yet. The new tilt of my pelvis delivered pure pleasure. The penetration was deep and even more pressure was exerted against my front vaginal wall by the head of his pumping cock. I could feel my juices running erotically down the cleft of my bottom past my ass. Ben’s entire body glistening in sweat shined in the moonlight. My craving increased. I wanted all he could give me as hard as he could give it to me.

“Oh Ben, fuck me harder…harder…FUCK ME HARDER!” I hissed through my teeth.

Ben opened his eyes to look at me and smiled a strange knowing smile. He slammed a few strokes hard into me, each almost independent of the other. Then he leaned into me and transferred a significant portion of his body weight onto my coiled back legs. They easily and comfortably supported it.

This shift of weight permitted Ben to suddenly quicken his rhythm into a jackhammer staccato of half stokes. I’m sure my face registered at least some sign of my mind screaming at the fantastic sensation fluttering through my entire body. My tits, my flanks, my hands, which had been freed to grip Ben’s butt, and of course my dripping pussy were all quivering to Ben’s pulsing rapid-fire pace.

At first just the tip half of his cock was plunging in and out for these short strokes. As nice a sensation that it was I began to feel frustration approaching. Again, seeming to read my thoughts Ben changed to push all the way in. Suddenly each of his quick jackhammer blows was slamming home against the sensitive, tightly gripping, outer entrance of my center with a loud smack.

The depth of his penetration in this position was extreme and surprising. Small tinges of pain, shepherded by the exquisite fulfillment of each deep slapping, banging stroke, posed no impediment to delivering my body completely and unequivocally to this mysterious man once again.

My body had grown completely responsive now. Ben was only a few strokes into this new rhythm and my orgasm began popping of like a string of small firecrackers. Unlike the earlier deeply dredged orgasm this one had the sensation of sparklers and fireworks in my nerves. Like fireworks in July it kept cumming for a long time drawing a strange involuntary whimpering sound from me.

Ben, building slowly from the moment he entered me, was cumming with the monstrous intensity of a moon-shot. The strain on his neck and face was frightening. He was beaded in perspiration. Soon after my fireworks started he began to loose his rhythm. Complete loss followed as all control of his body gave over to involuntary spasms, convulsions and twitches as his torrent mixed with mine. My series of explosions reached a crescendo with his then kept gently firing as long as his cock continued to throb inside of me.

I laid wrapped into Ben with my head on his shoulder for a few minutes before realizing he was asleep, deeply asleep. Too excited or too exhausted to sleep I got up and used the toilet, the bidet and the sink in the bathroom. I climbed back into bed with Ben and fell asleep myself.

The next morning I emerged from a sleepy dreamscape to find Ben smiling next to me propped on his arm. “Good Morning…” he said, …”hotstuff.”

“Good Morning.”

“You have some questions, no doubt…”

“A few,” I replied.

Sonia?

“Yes.”

“A friend from college, and a colleague. The source of my invitation to lecture the course here.”

“Lover?”

“Very Lesbian”

“Deirdre?”

“Committed bi-sexual, according to Sonia.” “They apparently dallied in the past.”

“Last night?”

“Was wonderful”

“No, I mean…”

With a small laugh and that radiant grin Ben said, “I think so, if Sonia had her way”

“Wonderful for me too.” I said.

“Halleluiah.”

Ben’s next kiss was the first kiss of a whole new 24 hours in Prague.