Mind Tango

For days on end it can be cold and drizzly here in April. Grey skies darkening the bud covered branches of the trees, still skeletal, outside the window but longing, it seems, to burst forth into brilliant new leaves or blossoms and that riot of colour that is the explosion of energy and life we call Spring. And, against our usual practice with others we had encountered before, we had agreed to meet one on one in my home for the first time, rather than a chat over coffee or a drink in a public place. We had each explained, honestly and truthfully, our mutual desires to be master and student in this perverted world outside sexual norms, and to be able to switch, neither pinning the other to a fixed role. Each of us had other playmates and neither of us wanted an exclusive relationship with anyone. Yet, perhaps, like the burgeoning growth in my garden, we were desperately yearning for a new experience in that explosion of energy and passion, and so, we agreed to meet up for the first time in the intimacy of my place.

We physically met for the first time then, at my front door and each of us felt a bit awkward, reserved for we had chatted quite openly online, shared intimate pictures, confessed to certain sexual proclivities that might raise an eyebrow in "vanilla" circles, and felt the physical responses that meant our bodies each were warming to the idea of extending this tango of the minds into the dance of skin on skin before we'd ever been in each other's physical presence. The wine I poured for us both and that we sipped in the kitchen, seemed to trail its fingers lightly over our shoulders in a relaxing caress because, by the time we had finished that first glass, we both were standing more at ease and the physical space between us had lessened. Our arms brushed as I poured each of us another glass of wine, and I could feel the trail of heat across my skin remain like a swirl of phosphorescence in the ocean at night.

We moved, with our second glasses of wine, into the living area of my home and again that inadvertent brushing of our bodies as we sat down on the loveseat left a residual heat throbbing under my skin. The attraction was there, the mental connection had been made, the body language of each of us was open, inviting, and simultaneously we leaned toward each other for that first kiss, lips parted, tongues ready to stroke and suck, and suddenly we were hungry. Hungry for each other. Hungry in such a way that our tongues darted and entwined, thrusting deeply into the other's mouth. A groan escaped, from which of us, I am not sure. Fingers were stroking and scrabbling at buttons, zippers. Teeth biting, nipping at lips, at skin. Nails scratching furrows down backs, across thighs. The press of flesh against flesh grew greater, more urgent. Clothes flew, either kicked or thrown off, and our mutual gasping and moaning became a chorus that each of us responded to with a heightened frenzy, built on the pleasure of knowing the other was feeling an increasing, pulsing throb of desire.

I gasped with pleasure as I felt fingers parting me wide and I resisted the natural inclination to protectively clench, instead allowing a warm flow of sensual vulnerability slide through me. Hands cupped my ass cheeks and gave a squeeze before spreading me open, revealing that tiny pink rosebud, so delicate, and so longing to be entered. A finger, moistened with a silky lubricant began to circle me and the trace of that finger made me pulse with pleasure. A nudge and the finger pushed against that tight muscle. And then withdrew. I was lying on my stomach and could not see what was going on, but it wasn't long before I could feel the nudge of something wider, firmer than a finger. I moaned again, in pleasure, with longing, and the low hum of vibration escalated my desire immensely, and I felt myself longing to give way and cum right then. Again a warm finger tickled my clenched asshole and I more than relaxed against its touch, my muscles contracting as if to push out, but instead pulsating open in an invitation to be penetrated. No, not just an invitation, a demand, a pleading, a longing to feel the warm, slippery thrust filling my ass.

And then I felt just that.

A firm nudge and I was spread open like a young bird with its mouth gaping, ready to be sated by a warm gush. I cried out. The pleasure and pain were intermingled. Neither would have been complete without the other. A withdrawal and then another strong thrust, this time deeper, and again a strangled cry emerged from my throat, but this time with a surge of ecstasy. I wanted to be spread wide, to feel full of the cock that was penetrating me. To feel the strong thrust of hips flexing and withdrawing only to slide further, higher, to take me completely. And our voices mingled as with a final searing thrust, we came in a mutual explosion of ecstasy.

A moment of almost silence, filled only with the rasp of our breathing as we recuperated from our own orgasms, and then we rolled apart, each of us lying on our backs, arms and legs intertwining, extending the intimacy of the moment. "See, I told you I could do it," a note of self-satisfaction creeping into her voice.

"What?" I questioned, but really knowing what the answer to my own question was, just enjoying her sense of accomplishment, her almost child-like joy at being able to release herself from the role of passive taker of sexual domination to the active pursuer of the same.

She grinned as she began to explain, "I knew I could peg you and bring you to a cum," then she chuckled, "And thank you. Thank you for being a patient teacher, your suggestions as we chatted online really helped. I felt completely in control; a desire to be in control. I hope "he" appreciates these lessons as much as you seem to have."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," I responded with a satisfaction all my own, "I am sure he will."