The Connoisseur Ch. 01

My host and hostess were not dismayed. "Good," said Nyaki, "Like that is very good. Very good for Tahamara. Very good for you. Please continue."

And so we fucked, at times ferociously, at times slowly and, on Tahamara's part, with infinite skill and minute variation of position, exerting and relaxing tension, seemingly about to draw the spunk from my balls before gently restoring me to equanimity and the beginning of another display of her astonishing repertoire. Throughout, Nyaki was the puppet master, a few soft words suggesting a new position, a change of rhythm, a moment of repose, a salacious display of self-manipulation.

Clearly, Nyaki was getting what he wanted from our encounter, for he remained frequently active, murmuring instructions to his wife while himself moving from one side of us to the other, depending upon the position we were exploiting, bending close to see the angle of penetration, applying gentle pressure with a hand to ensure that she achieved the perfection he was seeking. Once satisfied, he dribbled some form of perfumed oleaginous lubrication on to the point at which Tahamara and I were conjoined and urged us to proceed.

The finale was no anticlimax. The initiative, I think, came from Tahamara who said something to her husband. It was the first time she had spoken. When he responded, she urged me on to my back and mounted me with one fluent movement. Once in place, she stayed motionless with my cock inside her.

"Relax, please," said Nyaki. "Tahamara will not hurry you. She wishes this to be something for you to remember"

He was right. Tahamara was deliberately reining back the erotic tension. When at last she sensed my erection was losing its full potency, she began a small rocking movement, at the same time slightly tightening her cunt muscles round the base of my shaft. She rode me slowly, so slowly at first, accelerating only by the smallest degree until, her red nipples bobbing on those uptilted tits, she was rising and falling on me with loud squelching sounds, eliciting cries of approval from her husband. Eventually, she - rather than I - knew that the moment was upon me and, with one last sumptuous downward envelopment, she drained me.

I suppose I should not have been surprised that the aftermath was as thoughtful and, in its way, as relaxing as all that had gone before. After a leisurely scented bath, I dressed, enjoyed a superb malt whisky with Nyaki and was driven by his chauffeur to my hotel. Tahamara had disappeared as inexplicably as she had materialised. I might have concluded that the whole experience had been hallucinatory but when I undressed for bed my member was again erect and needed attention.