K&T, LLC Ch. 02

I removed the mask, but before I released Sean, I ran through a few stretches, including a full evolution of First Position on the bar. This was purely for the cameras. Sean said he wanted a picture of my ass, so I posed for a few. He must have liked it, since his cock was starting to rise again. Then I released his leg restraints and gave his penis a little attention. Sean spoke for the first time, one word. "Hands." I had already been considering it, so I also released the cuffs.

Then, I turned my back to him and leaned far over. Sean's wonderful hands grasped my ass and guided me down. I gasped as Sean penetrated me once again. It took a few moments to settle down completely, but eventually, I felt the tip of Sean's cock find my cervix. I just sat there, letting the sensation of small movements wash through me. Sean was more active. His hands moved my hair aside and his lips were brushing the nape of my neck. I shivered all over.

Then Sean began to to rock, back and forth. Remembering my manners, I used my pussy muscles to try milking his cock. Soon we developed a rhythm. That shifted to a syncopation. The movements were slow and small, but the tension kept building. Sean's hands caressed the front of my bustier. My nipples could feel the pressure, even through the quilting. Sean spent a lot of time nuzzling my neck, but once he reached out and nipped at my earlobe. I had a little earthquake. Sean had a sympathetic tremor. Still, the tension built.

It took time, but that was a good thing. We were in no hurry. My breath came faster and faster, while Sean's breath was hot on my neck. When I determined we were both about ready, I leaned forward, gaining a small bit of elevation. Then, in what was quickly becoming my favorite move, I dropped down on Sean's prick. His penis head met my cervix and the world went white.

When the room stopped turning, I had a little burn, probably from my own pepper sauce. Sean had some philosophy to ponder. He said, "If you kill yourself during sex, how will you ever have a baby? If you kill me, who is going to raise him? Jesus, Sheila, have you any idea what that does to me?" Does to him? What about me? I'm the one that keeps passing out.

I slowly rose to my feet and dragged Sean to the video room. As I hoped, there were several good shots of my ass. I cropped a few and printed them. There was also a great shot of me deep throating Sean's cock, but I saved that for later. The best shot of all was my face in orgasm. You could just make out Sean's face through my hair. I printed that one too.

Finally, I chose a shot of Sean and I kissing. I opened the special effects menu. This one I mapped into relief. In that mode, you could see our profiles and that we were kissing, but you could not tell we were in the middle of coitus. Not for certain at least. I saved the image to my thumb drive as Relief1, then smiled at the unintended pun. Harold would love the idea, if I ever told him.

As Sean drove us home, I said, "We will need an album for these, and a safe to lock them in." Sean's laugh had almost as much to do with promises as it did of humor. I looked forward to a long night coming, and coming again.

Sean:

I needed to remember never to be at a loss for words around Sheila. I had been thinking of a way to kill an hour before heading for bed and more practice. Sheila wanted to go to her studio. Clearly understood was that I was not going to call shots that night.

On the way, we stopped for carry out food. I thought nothing of it at the time. Sheila had me undress, while she peeled down to that corset thing I had come to know so well. She sat me in a wooden armchair. At that point, smoothly and with no sign of uneasy balance, Sheila put one foot on my shoulder. In a tribute to our first session, she placed her hands on her ankle and stretched out fully. Then she repeated with the other foot on my other shoulder. It was hot as hell.

After she finished, she picked a sleep mask and blindfolded me. My legs were bent and bound together, so that my toes were off the edge of the seat. My arms were bound behind the chair back. My legs were not bound to the arms, so I could have closed them, but what would be the point? I sat with spread knees and my manhood fully exposed.

I do not know what I expected, but it was not a Thai dinner fed with chopsticks. Bite by patient bite, Sheila fed me my whole meal. Then, I sat and listened to her eating her own food. It could not have taken long, but it seemed to be very long. Again, Sheila was reminding me of our first encounter, when I had left her alone for several minutes. The simple sounds of her eating were a lifeline. Occasionally, her toes would touch my thigh. We were that close together.

Presently, Sheila stopped eating. With a rustle of sound, she moved. Whatever she was sitting on must have been moved, because the next sensation I had was of her lips on my prick. Having her stretch against my shoulder had gotten me aroused. Even the many minutes it had taken for both of us to eat did not completely kill the erection. The first touch of her lips brought me back to attention.

At first, it was like her mouth play of the other night. Sheila was not skilled at oral sex, but she paid attention and learned quickly. She even sucked my balls. I was starting to slide back and enjoy—when the peppers soaked through. Blessed Lord Jesus.

There is an old joke. A man reaches for K-Y jelly and gets the Ben-Gay. The punchline is June Carter-Cash's Ring of Fire. There is no doubt that Sheila intended exactly this reaction. It worked. The burn of the peppers merged with my arousal. Soon the peppers were secondary to other things. The burn was not forgotten, but the friction took priority. Soon, my heart thundered in my ears. Sheila was deep throating me when I shot my load. Funny, I had heard deep throat took a lot of practice.

Of course, that was only act one of the drama. Next, Sheila removed the blindfold. Instead of releasing me, she went to her workout out area and did stretches. I had already told her that I loved the shape of her ass. From what I could see, she was trying to show it off. Then, she came and released my legs.

I would have been dead not to respond to Sheila's little workout routine. However, to respond properly, I needed my hands, so, at my request, Sheila released them. Once she had, Sheila stood in front of me and presented her ass. This was what I wanted my hands for. I complied with Sheila's obvious wish. After a few moments of kneading, I guided her to my waiting cock.

Back when I was getting semi-regular sex, about ten years before, my lovers were generally older and much more experienced. One would think they knew most of the positions. Yet, I had only experienced chair sex once, and that was a quickie in a restaurant. Given what came next, I was at a loss to understand why.

It is a given that Sheila's twat was very tight. She sank down till the head of my penis rubbed her cervix. This was no quickie. It was a long period of slow movements, with both of us rocking, sometimes together, sometimes in counter point. My hands were free to explore Sheila's fabulous tits, while my lips could caress her neck. She could turn and kiss me over her shoulder. I received a bit more of the Thai hot sauce from her lips. From time to time, Sheila would shiver, which I took for a mini orgasm. Once, she clenched enough that I shivered with her. All the while, Sheila was milking my prick with her pussy.

They say time flies when you are having fun. In this case, time stretched til it seemed eternal. I could tell we were getting closer to a climax, but there was never any rush—at least not til Sheila decided to end it. Instead of the swaying movements we had both been using, Sheila put weight on her feet, and stood part-way up. With no hesitation, she dropped her weight, so that my cock went in as far as humanly possible, which was a fraction of an inch too far. Penis met cervix with a jar. I saw stars as I blew my wad.

Sheila was in no better shape. In fact, she may have passed out. Normally, that would be a stroke to my pride, but she got all the credit for this one. In any event we were both limp in that hard wooden chair. When she finally show signs of coherence, I told her that killing me with sex was counter productive, while killing herself was worse. That earned me a half hearted groan.

Then, both of us still undressed, Sheila took me to the video room and worked her magic. I knew that Peter and Justin were a bit in awe of her. This was the first time I had seen it in action. Almost faster than I could follow, she ran through four recordings. Every few seconds, she would stop, enlarge a section and crop it out. In under 10 minutes, I had a small book of shots on CD and a dozen printed photos, which highlighted Sheila's ass.

There was one other print. It showed her face at the moment of orgasm, with mine peaking through her hair. I would ask him, but I already knew what Justin would say when he saw it. It was another prize winner. I was going to need a special cabinet in the safe.

Sheila picked out one more picture. It was of her twisting to kiss me. This one was cropped to just show shoulders up. Sheila used a bas relief filter to make a 3-D effect. She saved the image to a thumb drive and put in her purse. I had no idea what it was for and I did not ask. It was tough.

Getting home was a bit of a chore. We could have showered there, but we had no clean clothes. I suggested that my shower was better equipped, which was only truth. We pulled on enough for modesty and headed for my car. I had a perverse urge to take Sheila back to the ice cream store, where she had flashed the clerk, but it was late for a Sunday. They would not be open.

There was no repeat of our shower scene. I washed Sheila and shampooed her hair. She returned the favor. Then we went to bed. Even if Sheila was interested, I was out like a light.

Monday morning, I woke to lips on my prick.

Sheila:

Sean may have been half joking when he talked of being killed by sex, but there was an element of truth there too. After all the French call it le petite morte, the little death. I sympathized. Even having fifteen or more minutes to recover, I was a rag doll when we left for the Residence.

Sean had suggested putting off showers, which made sense. We were both too wasted to take advantage. By the time we hit the bed, Sean was literally staggering. Before I had a chance to say good night, he was snoring. I made a mental note to buy some Breathe Right strips. I made sure he was lying well and covered, then I slipped out of the bed.

Amazing as it seemed to me, the time was still short of 11:00 PM. Our time at my studio had taken about an hour, plus driving and clean up. It was still early by Francine standards. I text her a quick note to get a PC and IM with me. By the time I was online, so was she. Naturally, Francine wanted all the details, but she had her own way of saying it.

Hold on for a second. Let me get the ass plug in. Double penetration makes a more satisfying orgasm. There. Now, tell me the whole scene, slowly, in loving detail. I want to be able to direct this scene on stage. I would have told her to fuck herself, but that was her idea.

So, I told Francine the events of the day. She was very taken with the quickie. in the Cloak Room. It was a position she had always wanted to try, but had never found a lover short enough. I liked the name: ballerina. As Sean said, we would have to try it in a lavatory some time. Francine also loved my use of stealth peppers. Somewhere along there, she climaxed and told me about it. I wished her many happy returns. Francine sent me a raspberry.

I went and retrieved the CD I had burned. I only sent the shot of my orgasm, but that was enough. Francine "Motormouth" Martel was speechless for over 15 seconds. Then, she got over it.

Holy fucking shit, Schwartz. I am so jealous. Holy Mary, Mother of God. That is...You are... I am so jealous. Tell me again, exactly what you did to reach that point. Jesus. Did you pass out? Oh. My. God. You can see Sean's face. He looks ready to explode, too. Was he as bad off as you were?

I allowed that I may have lost consciousness, for a moment, and that Sean was a limp rag afterward. When I said he was asleep before he hit the pillow, Francine indicted all men on that score. At that point I was able to move on to the wedding preparations. This was very informative. Sean had mentioned a meeting with Francine, but not that she had access to a full production company. That would simplify the dress code a great deal.

For my part, I told her about Siobhan, mentioning that everyone called her Jo. This was not something Francine needed to have explained. When I told her that Siobhan was bringing a dozen grad students, Francine was ecstatic. She had experience with volunteer help for Shakespeare productions. Then I told her about the corset fitting.

Francine needs no underwear, except to prevent chaffing. I had given her a piece of mine that did not fit. Even tied as tightly as possible, Francine could move around inside it. That is why I was surprised when she gushed excitedly. Francine wanted nothing less than a custom made push up corset. As much as I hated my oversized breasts, I could understand why Francine hated her flat ones. A tightly laced corset would give her a figure. Odd that a mid 30's woman would need one, but there it was.

By this time, we had been messaging for an hour and I was drooping. In jest, I promised to lace her tightly, gag her, strap her to a rail, stick a vibrating plug in her ass and fuck her with a baseball bat sized dildo. Francine replied, Schwartz, you say the sweetest things. I'll take you up on that, but after the wedding. Get pictures. Francine is not of this world.

I crawled into bed, but never made it under the covers. It did not matter, since the temperature control was excellent. Still, I woke about 6:30 AM. This time I was more traditional. I woke Sean with a blow job. In return, he gave me a full length back rub. I owed him on the exchange. After that, we made love again. Instead of missionary position, I split the bamboo. As usual, Francine knew her positions.