Chinatown
- 1 year ago
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We are in a taxi. I am snug and warm beside you. On this occasion, I am wearing a long black hooded cloak. That's all - just a long black cloak. I'm sure this means that a nice surprise is awaiting me.
I'm leaning against you, resting my head on your lap, feeling your wonderful fur coat soft against my skin.
The taxi driver is used to our evening excursions and pays us no attention. He drives silently through the dark streets.
We're nearing the centre and entering the quiet Soho backstreets and down into Chinatown.
Not a word is spoken during the journey.
The taxi stops outside a brightly lit restaurant but we don't go in. Instead you are leading me down a flight of narrow steps. The stones feel cold against my bare feet.
You ring a bell and the door immediately open. It seems we are expected. You sweep in, in your furs. I follow meekly, your hooded servant!
A dark passageway, a sliding door, a smell of jasmine and into a dimly lit room. A tiny wizened Chinese woman shows you to a huge wooden chair, a throne!
And still no word has been spoken...
The Chinese woman indicates that I am to remove my cloak. She takes the garment from me. Although I am now completely naked, it all feels perfectly natural. I feel no shame, I make no attempt cover myself ... my little dark triangle...my boobs.
There is a chair for me. Cold metal. I sit down facing you across the room. I am very curious and not a little excited.
Music is playing somewhere in the labyrinth of passages in this strange house. Chinese music.
The woman stands beside me. I can feel her breath on my bare skin. In one hand she holds a black lacquer tray filled with golden needles. Acupuncture needles.
I am pushed gently back in the chair. I watch as the woman selects a needle then she presses the point against the centre of my forehead. There is no pain. Not even a scratch. Another needle is added, then another. The woman is working very fast.
My eyes close as a wonderful feeling of calm spreads through me. There is a pause. I know the old woman is watching closely, she can see me visibly relax and she resumes her subtle and intimate work.
I lose track of where the little needles are being placed. My breasts ... somewhere just above my pubic hair, the tops of my thighs...
Although I am aware of my surroundings, I am in a trance. So calm so peaceful, so unafraid.
The woman must have stopped. I open my eyes and she is standing beside your chair. She is watching me.
Then the woman turns to you smiling, she waves her hand in my direction. "Watch!" she says.
Your eyes are fixed on me. I feel a kind of chill run through my body. I shudder but I am not cold. Instead I can see the goose bumps on my skin. My nipples begin to stiffen. The skin between my legs contracts a little.
I dare not move a muscle. I am scarcely breathing, just feeling. Feeling something almost electric climbing through my body.
Now I realise! This is the start of an orgasm! Now I know why I am here!
No words, no movements, no tongues or fingers, just the steady climb to that most wonderful of sensations. I know that I'm getting wet. I can feel the tell-tale trickle. Your eyes, your eyes ALWAYS make me so wet!
Now there can be no doubt. I'm about to come. I don't try and hurry it and I don't hold back. I just look directly into your eyes and let this old woman's ancient craft do the rest.
Oooh! Now it's here!
Now it's getting close. What once was stiff now turns liquid. A trickle of sweat runs down between my breasts. My thighs catch fire and now it's here ... HERE!
My hips lift as my back arches. A white light ... your face at its centre. Oh God! My whole body dissolves into a mighty rush of the purest pleasure. So intense!
The light recedes, time slows down, I am panting, open mouthed. My eyes half closed.
You make as if to leave your chair but the woman puts her hand on your arm: "Wait!" she says.
Oh my God, it's returning! Faster this time. No slow burn, just the rush! Oooh God! I'm coming ... It's stronger than before. I cry out... tears combined with laughter. This cannot be happening to me! I've come again and you have watched every moment ... every movement.
I'm drenched, exhausted, drained...
This time no one moves. The room is completely silent. This strange music has stopped. No sound from the street.
My head is hanging down. Eyes closed.
I hear the old woman laugh. "More!" she says ... "Your friend is very good!"
More. No, but there is no mistaking the rapid rise of sensation, the surge of blood. My cunt is on fire.
Again! The wave crashes over me, through me... I can hear my own screams of pleasure echo through the house.
Oh Mistress. How will I ever recover!
After many utterly serene minutes, the needles are removed. The woman gently dries my skin. She smiles kindly and whispers: "You very good!" It makes me so proud. And YOU saw it all!
The ride home was wonderful, we opened the taxi's windows and I let the cloak fall from my shoulders and the cool air stroke my bare skin like a thousand velvet tongues.
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MasturbationI pulled up in front of her house. It was older, nothing fancy, but well maintained. I sat in the car for a few minutes studying the situation. Her personal ad, email and pic seemed to be fairly straight forward. An SSBBW looking for a NSA encounter. I grabbed the bottle of wine that I had brought, got out of the car and headed up her walkway. As I approached the door, I heard someone at the latch and the door opened. She was dressed in loose drawstring pants and a camisole with no...
One evening in the middle of summer, I found myself in Albuquerque on a business trip. Maybe it was the balmy New Mexico air, or the fact that I had earlier spotted a teenage girl strolling down Central Avenue, dressed in white low rider jeans and a cranberry-colored crop top that showed off her navel, but in any event, when I got back to my hotel, I was beside myself with lust and I decided to call an escort service. An earnest young woman with an English accent answered the phone and asked...
These little lunches are making a believer out of me, Mom. I love what you normally fix for breakfast at home, but this is a real treat. If we had a French bakery around the corner from the house, at home, we could have it there, but French bread doesn’t keep any better than French fries. If you can’t get it fresh from the oven, it’s not at all the same. Ok, I’ll just enjoy it while we are near the bakery, then. Oh, could you get the door, Darren? You have a robe nearby and it is so...
“Happy Birthday to you.” It was possibly the worst rendition of that song ever in the entire history of the human race. Not only was everybody (well, with one noticeable exception) a mile off key, but, even worse, everybody seemed to be a mile off a different key. But the thought was there, and they do say that it’s the thought that counts. I was sixteen. I could smoke if I wanted to (no thanks), legally ride a motor bike, drink beer, wine or cider with a table meal in a pub or restaurant,...