The Switch Ch. 03

Valery and Samara sat in the cafe, drinking coffee. She wanted to know how his date had gone and he was happy to talk about it.

'She's the most sexually repressed woman you can imagine,' Val explained.

Samara stirred her coffee. 'Sorry. I thought she sounded alright. Better luck with the next one.'

He shook his head. 'No, I'm not interested in another one - although whatever you did to my profile, thanks, because woman are now contacting me - I like her. I'm going to work on the sex angle. She's coming over on Friday night.'

'Where are you taking her?'

'I'm not. I'm going to make her dinner, then we're going to smoke some weed, hopefully finish watching the movie we started last week, and I'm going to try and get her to cum.'

Samara looked at him like he was crazy. 'Val, you do that stuff after you've been together six months. You need to impress her. Make her feel special.'

'I don't earn enough to keep that shit up. She may as well see what it's really like.'

Samara sipped her coffee. 'Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.'

Her reaction worried him. He did, as a matter of fact, like Aimee, and he thought it would be nice to have a quiet evening together, where they could get stoned and wind down from the week together. He was determined to bring her to climax. He wanted to see the expression on her face when she came.

'You could always cook naked,' Samara suggested. 'How she reacts would give you a good insight into how she really is.'

'There's a thought.'

'Or is she super repressed?'

Val considered the question. 'She's not against sex. She was actually pretty decent in bed. The issue is her self esteem. One of her ex partners told her he wasn't attracted to her and would only have sex with her in the dark, or if she kept her shirt on.'

'That's disgusting.'

'I concur. It's also fucking weird. She's a good looking woman. Whoever told her she was ugly has rocks in his head.'

Samara looked at him thoughtfully. 'Do you think she'll get to a point where she's willing to play with you?'

He shrugged. 'We'll have to see. I hope so.'

~~~~~~~~~

The instructions had been simple; arrive at seven, be prepared to spend the night, and wear something that made her feel sexy.

There was an aggression to Val's instructions that she hadn't encountered with any of her previous lovers. No, aggression wasn't the right word. Dominance? Was that the word? Yes, dominance was much better, even if it tended to suggest cruelty, a trait she was now quite sure he didn't possess.

She'd sent Ben to stay with her mother, dressed in a tight green dress and heels, and headed over to Val's house. It was early spring and the night air was still frigid, but he'd assured her that he'd have the wood heater going, and she wouldn't need a jumper or coat.

Aimee arrived five minutes early. She knocked on the door apprehensively, a bottle of red clutched under one arm. He'd told her not to bring anything, but it seemed rude to show up empty-handed.

He opened the door wearing an apron and nothing else. Her eyes widened, and she looked him up and down. Then up and down again. Then, up and down again, for the third time. He was hard where it mattered most, the tent in the apron giving it away.

'Here,' she said, thrusting the wine into his hands, hoping he wouldn't notice how flushed she was.

'You shouldn't have. I told you not to bring a thing,' he said.

He took it out of her hands and spun around. He was definitely naked. She got a spectacular view of his bum, and the artwork that was tattooed on his back.

She followed him into the kitchen, trying not to trip over his ginger cat. She'd spent all week mulling over Sunday; the fateful lunch, his cats, the pink house, the sex. He was completely unlike any man she'd ever come across, and the more she got to know him, the more this fact became abundantly clear.

'How was your week?' he asked politely.

'Fine. Yours?'

'Fine.' He leant across the kitchen bench and held her gaze. 'Have you finished with your period?'

'Pretty much.'

'Good. Take off your underwear.'

His instruction was said with such absolute control and confidence that she'd obey, that she felt compelled to do as he said.

'I'll go to the bathroom..' she trailed off, picking up her handbag.

He nodded approvingly. 'I'll get started with our entrees.'

She went to the laundry to use the toilet, then to the bathroom to wash her hands. She looked in the mirror and realised her face was flushed and her pupils dilated. Her heart was thudding, and her palms were damp with sweat.

When she returned, he had two gifts laid out for her; a glass of white, and a pipe stuffed with marijuana. Val placed the pipe in her mouth, his hands very strong and sure, and he retrieved a lighter from one of the drawers.

'Ladies first,' he said.

He had her keep drawing on it until she started to cough. Then he tapped the burnt material into his sink, packed it again, and proceeded to smoke with a level of speed and expertise she knew wasn't borne out of occasional use.

Goddamn he looked good naked. She tried not to stare too much as he finished smoking, and rinsed out the pipe. He was obviously planning on bedding her, but that fact had never been in contention. He wanted her, and she wanted him. What was more, she was flattered by his attention.

Her first partner, Chris, had first invited her to the movies when she was fourteen, and he sixteen. They'd been happy enough with each other, but she realised, with the painfulness of hindsight, that it hadn't been love. It had been familiarity and security. She often wondered if, had Chris not been killed, they'd still be together.

Dane had followed four years after Chris's death. He'd been a fucking prick. Their relationship had lasted eight months, before she got tired of the snide little digs about her looks, her rental, her car and her weird taste in television. Bizarrely, he'd been genuinely surprised when she'd broke things off.

Deciding that it was best to jump back into the dating world before she got cold feet, she hooked up with Tim. Tim had been pleasant, but not interested in anything serious, let alone dealing with her not inconsiderable emotional baggage and insecurity about her looks. She didn't hold it against him when he abruptly called time on their relationship.

Not one of the three men were even remotely like Val. None had shown the overt sexual interest he had. The mere idea that any of them would have cooked for her wearing nothing but an apron was actually quite funny, and she started to giggle.

'What are you laughing about?' Val inquired.

'I'm impressed with your self confidence.'

It was his turn to laugh. 'I'm good at putting on a front.'

She doubted that. Everything he did seemed so self assured. She sat and watched him cook, while sipping at her wine. He was more deft with a frying pan and knife than she was, and everything he did seemed remarkably skilled.

They ate at a table he'd set with a white tablecloth and cutlery that actually matched. He'd refilled her glass, and she was careful not to drink too much. Already her head was swimming and she felt a warm, pleasant buzz. If she didn't keep an eye on things, she'd end up falling asleep on him. Or, more likely, throwing herself at him and begging him to screw her. He'd removed his apron to eat, and she'd gotten a brief, yet incredibly tantalising, view of him completely nude.

Aimee ate her entree with the enjoyment only a woman who ordinarily ate a revolving menu of child-friendly dinners could experience. She had no idea what it was called, but it involved three perfectly cooked scallops all lined up on a smear of something that tasted of sweet corn. There was a sauce on the side and a bit of salad to brighten the plate up. It was divine.

She glanced up and realised he'd been studying her reaction. She smiled quickly, nervously. On one hand, she felt comfortable around him; she was now quite sure he wasn't a serial killer, and he didn't take himself too seriously, which she liked. On the other hand, he just seemed way out of her league; too confident, too capable, and too goddamn sexy. What the hell was he doing with her?

'You're an amazing cook,' she said, resting her knife and fork on the plate. There wasn't a crumb remaining. 'Thank-you.'

'You're welcome,' he replied, reaching over and taking her empty plate.

He placed it, and his, to the side of the table, but made no move to take them over to the sink. Aimee took a sip of her wine, before remembering that she was trying her best not to get drunk.

'So why me?' she asked curiously. 'What made you contact me?'

'Some of my friends picked you for me. They said you looked like a good match.'

Did that mean he wasn't attracted to her? Had he invited her over to see if he could learn to tolerate her, with all of her insecurities? He was obviously a very sexually motivated man. He had a great body. What the hell could he possibly see in her?

'Do you think they made a good choice?' she asked bravely.

'Very.'

His tone was one of utmost certainty. His blue eyes gazed into hers. She looked away, and tried not to flush. Why did he keep staring at her?

'Why did you respond?' he asked. 'You're a woman. You're thin. You have a job, and you don't seem to have particularly high expectations of a man. Why me? It's obviously an effort for you to organise a baby-sitter, so why did I rate highest this week?'

'You're easy to talk to.'

'That's disappointing,' he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 'I was hoping you'd make mention of our roll in the hay last weekend.'

She could feel herself blushing a bright, dark, red. 'I'm sorry about that. I'm insecure. You're super hot, and I'm not sure why you would want to...'

'...shush,' he ordered, reaching across the table and pressing a finger to her lips. 'Stop talking like that. Come around here. Stand in front of me.'

Aimee stood up and walked over to him. He'd pushed his chair out from the table, and she received a full view of him in his nudity, his cock half-erect and his legs spread slightly.

He pulled her in between his legs and pushed her dress up around her waist. It was tight enough to stay where he moved it, and she stood, embarrassed, her in front of him.

He made an approving noise and pulled her on top of him, so she was straddling him. She could feel his manhood hardening with each second, but she didn't dare touch it. She could feel his gaze on her, too, but she ignored it, instead focussing on the black and white linoleum floor.

'Do you trust me?' he asked.

She nodded mutely.

'Good,' he said.

He pressed his lips to her collarbone and kissed her. She could feel her nipples harden, and the spread of a telltale warmth between her legs. Aimee shifted closer, so that she could feel the base of his cock against her sex. So close. So very, very, close.

Val twisted his hand through her red hair, until he had a hank of it around his arm. He pulled it back, forcing her to expose more of her neck. She held onto his biceps while his mouth moved over her skin, feeling more vulnerable, and more aroused, than she would have imagined possible.

He had one arm around her back, her hair still twined around his wrist and hand. He used his free hand to massage her breasts through her dress, while continuing to carefully suck on her neck. Aimee made a small, involuntary noise, and pressed her clit hard against his cock. She wanted him to fuck her.

He took his time. He didn't let her touch him sexually, and instead forced her to sit on his lap, enjoying what he was giving her. As the time ticked by, a sense of urgency came about her. What was he doing? She was ready for him. She was ready for him to make love to her.

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp and unzip her dress.

'What are you doing?' he asked, holding her on his lap.

He knew damn well what she was doing, she could hear it in the knowing tone of his voice. He knew she wanted him; he just wanted to hear her say it. This time, when he stared at her, she didn't look away. The combination of alcohol, marijuana and arousal had gifted her an audacity she didn't normally possess.

'I'm ready,' she said simply, as she continued to struggle with her dress. 'Take me to the bedroom.'

'Oh no,' he replied, shaking his head, and grabbing her hands. 'Not yet. We still need to eat dinner.'

'We can have dinner later.'

'No.'

She glared at him. Didn't he know how anxious sex made her? Why take her past the point of anxiety, and bring her to full arousal, only to refuse her? She wanted him. She was wet, ridiculously wet. His cock, where she'd rubbed herself against it, was shining with her juices.

Val grinned. He seemed incredibly pleased with himself. He picked her up and moved her off his lap. Before she could pull her dress back down, and regain some sort of modesty, he reached between her legs and curled his fingers up against her innermost folds. She gasped in surprise, but no sooner had he touched her, than he'd withdrawn his hand.

Slowly, and very thoughtfully, he sucked on his fingers. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she yanked her dress down.

'You taste good,' he complimented. He stood up and led her to her chair. 'Now sit down. I'll make dinner.'

She didn't want dinner. She wanted sex. She eyed up his erection as he placed her in her seat, and pondered whether she should get up and try to seduce him while he cooked.

'If you even think about moving, I'll tie you to the chair,' he warned.

Tie her to the chair? With what? And why? She looked up at him in a combination of excitement and fright. As she glanced up, she understood, deep in her core, that this was precisely what the reaction he was seeking.

He smiled at her and stroked her hair. 'Don't panic, Aimee. I'd never hurt you.'

'I trust you,' she said quietly.

'That's a good girl.'

He sauntered over to the kitchen and put on his apron. She sat, breathless, watching him retrieve a hunk of meat from the fridge.

'Oh, I should have remembered,' he said suddenly. 'My bad. Say 'I've had enough' if you want me to stop, okay? The second you say those words, the game ends.'

It was a game? What was he planning?

She nodded. 'Okay.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Val was careful with dinner. He wanted her to eat enough to have energy, but not so much that she felt full and sluggish.

Valery wasn't someone who viewed sexual women negatively. He liked confidence. He approved of a positive attitude to sex. Nothing felt better than a woman acknowledging that he got her horny, and proceeding to fuck his brains out.

He'd been surprised at the change that a little weed and a glass or two of wine bought to Aimee. She was a person who, with a little chemical assistance, switched from someone stricken with anxiety, to a bolder, more forward, woman. He liked the change. At some point, with a little more work and encouragement, he hoped she'd be that way all of the time, irrespective of what she had or hadn't consumed.

She helped him wash and dry the dishes. When the last of the cutlery had been packed away, he neatly unzipped her dress and tugged it off. She wore a bra underneath, and he went behind her to unclip it. He'd never quite mastered the art of removing bras.

Aimee tried to hide her anxiety, but the way she stood, and the way she tried to cover her breasts, gave her away.

'No,' he said, pulling her hands away. 'Show me.'

She flicked her hair back and tried to stand proudly. He gazed shamelessly at her figure. She was all woman, and she was all his for the night. He could take his time with her.

He touched a breast, and leant down and kissed her nipple. 'I want to do so many bad things to you,' he confessed.

'Then do them. You've made me wait long enough.'

Valery removed his apron and led her to the bedroom. It was clean this week, with fresh sheets and no piles of clothes stacked in the corners. He had enough condoms and lubricant to do just about anything she wanted, although he'd been careful to hide his toys away.

He laid her on the bed and climbed on top. She parted her legs for him, and he nestled his lower half them, but was careful not to penetrate. He wanted to kiss her until she was back to where she was between entrees and main; horny enough to let him do what he wanted with her.

She responded voraciously to him, stroking his chest, his arms and his ass. He knew, from the noises she was making, that she was attracted to him. She was ready for him.

No, that wasn't true; she was ready for his cock, and he wasn't yet ready to give her that. The moment he penetrated, the show's attention would turn to him. If he came before her - and he suspected he would - she'd likely be too embarrassed to let him finish her off.

Valery slipped down the bed, between her legs. She mewled out for him to stop, but he ignored her. He'd given her instructions on how to stop proceedings, and anything less he took as a meaningless protest.

He gently parted her folds, and stared at her sex. She was pale pink, and very wet. Her clit was hard and erect, and he ran his tongue over it. She squirmed impatiently. He lowered his mouth to her again and ever-so-slowly lapped at her clit, applying more pressure this time. She moaned and arched her back of the bed. That was good. He knew, now, what sort of touch she desired.

Val got into a comfortable position and settled down, eager to bring her to climax. She moved him around a bit; a few minutes in this spot, a few minutes in that. Her breathing got heavier, and the juices coursed from her pussy down his chin.

'Stop,' she said.

He didn't stop.

'Val.'

He ignored her. She had her words. Until she used them, he was going to keep going. He buried his face deeper into her and tried not to smile. She was growing more and more aroused by the minute.

'Goddamn, would you just stop that?' she said, half sitting up and pushing him away. 'Stop. Seriously, stop.'

He glanced up. 'What do we say if we want to stop?'

She bit her lip. 'I've had enough,' she admitted quietly. 'But I haven't. I just want you to lie on your back. I want to sit on you. Is that okay?'

He grinned, flopped onto the bed next to her, and rolled onto his back. 'Sure. Get on.'

'Are you sure? Because no one's ever managed to make me cum like this before. I mean, through oral. I might sit on your face and not cum and then it would all be...'

'Shush,' he ordered. 'What have I told you about this? Get on. I'll get you there.'

He wasn't entirely certain he would, but he was willing to give it a good shot. He laid back and helped guide her as she lowered herself onto his face. She smelt incredible. He hoped her scent would hang around after she left, reminding him of what they'd done together. There was nothing that compared to the smell of pussy.

She may not have orgasmed from cunnilingus before, but he knew she was confident she'd get there this time. She grabbed onto the bedhead with her hands, and began to grind her clit against his mouth.

He grabbed her thighs, the flesh soft and relenting under his grip, as he nuzzled into her. She gasped, and ground herself harder against him. The speed continued to pick up, and the air he breathed became hot and moist. His cock throbbed.

'Val, I'm going to...'

She couldn't finish her warning. She came hard and fast, grabbing his head and shoving him against her clit. She was brutal in orgasm; screaming out, rough, and not interested in anything else but her own pleasure.

He fucking loved it. He was on an awesome high as she ground herself into his face, determined to get every last ounce of enjoyment out of her climax. When she finally stopped moving, he stroked her legs, immensely satisfied with what he'd been able to do to her.