Reining Her In — Part 2: After Dinner

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Reining Her In - Part 1

Photo by Selçuk Ulutaş on Unsplash

She called me a Wombat? WTF

This was Ben’s first reaction when Mike told him about Teresa and Claire calling them a pair of “Wombats” after that night at the company “Kick Off”, and then the insult of “giving him a lesson” about pleasuring women.

“That fucking cunt, Claire. She’s the one that seduced me up to her room, then spent her time leaning against the window and waving to someone outside. Then she had the cheek to accuse ME of not ‘pleasuring’ HER, when she didn’t show any interest in wanting to be pleasured!” Ben thought to himself. “She’d be a great fuck if she just dropped the attitude!”

It was Monday lunchtime when Mike told Ben about Friday night. Ben started formulating a plan to set Claire straight, to rein her in. The afternoon’s work took a back seat to his thinking. Every time he walked past Claire, she flirted with him or as she sashayed past his desk swirling her short skirt flicking a lock of hair or casually playing with her unbuttoned blouse to show off her ample cleavage.

“So she wants to be pleasured more, does she? Hmmm! Let me see:-

• First I mustn't cum too soon — twice daily wanking all week should minimize my load and lower my sensitivity — tick!
• Secondly an extra hard erection — get some Viagra from big brother — tick!
• Lots of preliminaries and foreplay — crank up the ‘wow’ factor with some fine dining and romance — tick!”

Friday morning Teresa called in sick so Claire had to change her plan to a one-woman lesson. But at quarter to five just as Claire was thinking of getting ready for Happy Hour drinks, Ben came up and said “Come on Claire, we’re skipping drinks tonight — I’m taking you to dinner!”

(Claire continues:-)

“Dinner? Uh, uh… OK!”

“I’ll pick you up at 6:30 then. Dress up a bit! Cut the slut!” directed Ben and then walked out.

“What the fuck just happened” thinks Claire. “He’s gone and turned my lesson plans on it’s head. How am I going get through to him now?”

Standing in front of her wardrobe, Claire ponders the “cut the slut” directive. To some people, only her ‘sweats’ would be non-slutty enough. Seeing as they were going to dinner she selects her most conservative little black dress even though its neckline shows off her ample bust and it’s hem is rather short. Following the ‘conservative’ thought she decides that bra and nickers would be ‘de rigueur’ but she selects her sexiest set just in case they do get that far.

At six thirty on the dot there is a knock on her apartment door. Opening the door she is surprised to find a very handsome well dressed young gentleman. “What happened to that ‘boy’ from work?” she thinks. Her surprise deepens as he takes her hand and guides her to the red Porsche parked outside. He opens the door and takes her hand to guide her down onto the low seat.

Claire has a sudden twinge of shyness and modestly keeps her knees tightly together as she slides in. It seems the slutty Claire that wouldn’t think twice about flashing her knickers to a guy, has taken leave of her senses. As Ben slides in beside her she demurely tugs the hem of her dress down as far as she can.

When Ben starts the engine there is a deep throaty rumble that comes up through the seat that Claire feels through her core. “So this is why they call these sorts of cars sexy!” she thinks to her self.

With a roar and the squeal of rubber Ben speeds down the street and in no time is on the motorway toward the city. Claire is still too stunned for words with the way the evening has started. Ben breaks the silence with “I hope you like Italian food. I have something very special planned”.

Claire finally finds her tongue - “Nice car. Had it long”?

“A few years” replies Ben. “I got it for my 18th birthday”.

After a bit of small talk, Claire notices that they have gone through the city and are approaching the harbour. Ben swings the car round onto the harbour-side boulevard then slows and turns into the underground car-park of a swank looking apartment block using a key-card for access. “I didn’t know there was a restaurant around this area” declares Claire.

“Oh, very exclusive dinning,” retorts Ben.

Ben swings the car into the vacant parking spot next to the lift foyer. Claire notices the parking bay sign, ‘Penthouse only’. “Shit, this guy’s got some cheek,” she thinks.

Ben hands Claire out of the car and guides her into the foyer and summons the lift. Once in the lift he swipes his card-key again and presses the ‘Penthouse’ button (25th floor). “Well if there is an exclusive restaurant around here, of course it would be at the Penthouse level,” thinks Claire.

After a swift 30 seconds, the lift slows and the doors open. Claire’s jaw drops and her eyes bulge as she sees not a restaurant but a luxurious apartment lounge room.

“Benvenuto nella mia casa,” declares Ben with a sweep of his arm. “Welcome to my home”.

Fortunately Ben has his arm around Claire’s waist which stops her collapsing in disbelief. “How do you afford to live here?” Claire blurts out without thinking.

“O, I own it,” declares Ben. “In fact my family owns the whole building. My family name is Giovani, though I don’t like that to be known at work”.

“But that’s the bosses name isn’t it?” asks Claire.

“Well yes,” replies Ben shyly. “I don’t like it to be known. I made it very clear to Papa that I wanted to make a life of my own in business without family help, so please keep that secret”.

“So you’re Italian then? Ben isn’t an Italian name though?” asks Claire.

“I was Christened Benito, but when we came out here when I was just a kid, Benito was a hated name, being associated with Mussolini and I hated being called a ‘wog’, so I Anglicized my name to simply Ben.”

“But enough of family history. Let me get you a drink”.

Ben guides Claire out onto the balcony. The rays of the setting sun light the harbour with an ethereal glow. A couple of yachts’ sails glow pink. Other boats’ navigation lights twinkle green and red. The honks of the commuter ferries echo up the harbour. On the opposite shore, house and apartment lights are coming on to welcome business people home from work as meals are being prepared. For a moment Claire’s slutty mind wonders how many people across there are being seduced into bed or wives ushering lovers out the back door before their husbands get home!

Ben breaks her reverie arriving with a tray with glasses of prosecco and bowls of olives and cheeses. Claire has a little giggle when she sees Ben has a white napkin over his arm — “Ben the waiter — who’d have thought!”.

As they finish their aperitivo, Ben takes her hand and draws her up to him. She grasps his arm to steady herself and feels his bulging biceps. Their faces are just inches apart. His black eyes sparkle and a broad smile of pearly white teeth splits his strong Mediterranean face. His hand reaches out to lightly brush some hair off her neck and his warm breath sends a shiver down her spine and her heart skips a beat.

“Come sit at the kitchen bench whilst I finish preparing dinner” he says in a seductive voice that she imagines inviting her into his bedroom.

Ben places a plate under the fridge’s ice-maker and presses the button. From inside the fridge he gets a dozen oysters and some slices of lemon.

“Oooh. Aphrodisiacs! Not that I need them tonight,” thinks Claire, as she squirms a little on her stool feeling the wet patch in her nickers developing. As Claire swirls the mollusc around her palette she imagines she has just slurped cum from his exploding cock. She leans over and kisses Ben snowballing the oyster between their lips before she swallows it.

“Mia bella,” says Ben, putting his hand around her neck and drawing her in for a deep ‘bacio alla francese’. Their tongues caress for a minute, then Ben turns back to the stove.

The timer bell on the oven sounds — Ben has obviously planned and programmed the oven cooking schedule. Ben checks the oven and the delicious aroma of spiced roast lamb fills the room. The saucepan of water has come to the boil and he drops a bundle of asparagus in. He takes a jug of prepared gravy from the fridge and pops it into the micro-wave.

With their oysters finished, Ben fetches a bottle of Sangiovese from the wine-rack he has under the mezzanine stairs and pours a couple of glasses.

Plates are set out. A bowl of ‘pane di casa’ is to one side. For secondi Ben brings the tray from the oven and brings out a crown of roast lamb with oregano and rosemary herbs, along with roast potato wedges and pumpkin. The asparagus is drained. Ben carves the lamb and plates their dinner. He carries the dinner plates, bread and gravy boat and Claire brings their drinks to the dining table. He seats Claire and drapes a napkin across her lap then sits opposite. “Buon appetito” Ben declares.

With the main course finished topped off with home made gelato, Ben makes a couple of cups of strong Italian caffe and they retire to the lounge overlooking the harbour. The sun has set and the twinkling harbour lights and warm summer breeze through the balcony door say romance.

Read about what happens after dinner in the next episode.

Note: “Wombat” — an Australia marsupial that eats roots and leaves. Read the first episode for the background.

xxxxXXXxxxx

This story was originally published by the author at "https://medium.com/tantalizing-tales/reining-her-in-part-1-864acc3260f8" on Apr.10 2023, in the Medium Publication "Tantalizing Tales".

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Extending Michael’s Sexucation

After Claire and Teresa were let down by a couple of ‘boys’, they decided that they needed to teach them a lesson about sexually satisfying a woman

 Photo by Malvestida on Unsplash

The unwritten rule about corporate conferences was “What happens at Kick-off stays at Kick-off”.

(Teressa shares her story). It was only a week after the ‘Kick-off’ conference, when Michael, my failed conference pickup, came round and was leaning (or should I say leering) over my desk partition. After my little tête-à-tête (and chatte-à-chatte) with Claire, I have decided to sex-up my office attire a bit. I lean back in my chair so my new blouse with the plunging neckline pushes my very evident cleavage out to button-popping point. I flash him my sexiest smile and flick a wisp of hair away from my face.

“Hi Michael! All recovered from ‘Kick-off’? Want to catch up after Friday night drinks?”

“L..lo…ve t…o” he splutters with his eyes popping at the sight of the new me! Claire across the way smiles at me and gives me a little ‘thumbs-up’. We have something special planned for sweet innocent Michael.

The work week drags along in anticipation of Friday’s after-work drinks. At 10 to 5, I close down my computer and head to The Ladies to change into something more suitable for a Friday evening. Claire has helped me update my wardrobe with more alluring clothes. As I step into a cubicle with my bag, Claire arrives and pushes in beside me.

“Here’s to ‘Operation Mike’s Ed’!” she exclaims as she pulls me in for a deep kiss. We help each other out of our office clothes including bras and knickers. In the crush of the cubicle we embrace enjoying the tingle of naked breasts caressing.

“I am so looking forward to this”.

We help each other into skimpy thongs. Tonight will be a ‘free nipple’ night. I slip on a little black dress with deeply scooped décolletage and high hem-line, then zip on long black boots. The 5" heels ensures my arse twerks my dress as I walk.

Claire, the cheeky devil, pulls on a red lacy dress. Well the word ‘dress’ might be a slight exaggeration. The shoe-string straps barely hold up the two pieces of material that barely cover her voluptuous breasts and finally join at her navel. The lace catches on her perky nipples just keeping her breasts from falling out; her just visible red nips are cleverly disguised by the red material. Her back is completely bare with the ‘dress’ coming round her waist at butt-crack height. With barely 10" from ‘waist’ to hem and her red thong clearly visible through the lace, Claire looks fucking hot. She finishes her ensemble with red sandals atop 6" heels. There will be a lot of boners at drinks tonight.

With our office clothes stuffed in our bags, we head on out. Most of the girls have changed but Claire is the one that jerks a lot of necks straining to get an eye-full. I get a few glances too as people see the new-me flaunting my body for the first time. Most of the men’s idea of drinks-night dress is to remove their tie.

We all head across the road to the pub. Michael zeroes in and offers to get drinks. Claire is my wing-woman for the evening, or more to the point, I am Claire’s wing-woman which helps keep the number of times she get hit-on down. We both order white wine spritzers with the intent of minimizing our alcohol intake for the night — we have to keep our wits about us for what we have planned.

Michael hangs around all evening like a love-sick puppy.

By about 9 o’clock, the die-hards are settling in at the bar but there is a fair trickle of people heading home. I slip Claire a key, give her a peck on the cheek, and she heads out to door. I turn to Michael and say, “Come on, drink up Mikey, we have a date remember!”

We finally head out to hail a cab. My apartment is only 15 minutes away. I get my key out of my purse and unlock the door. Mike is such a ‘boy’; he’s not even gentleman enough to open the door for me.

As we step inside, Claire steps forward now sans sandals and thong I notice. She is quite short without heels.

“Surprise!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around Mike’s neck and giving him a big sloppy kiss.

Michael is dumb-struck, his jaw drops open and his eyes are popping out of his head.

“Well after your pretty feeble performance at ‘Kick-off’, we thought we would spice things up for you. You obviously have some things to learn about satisfying a woman, so I’ve brought my fuck-buddy Claire along to help in your sexucation!” I explain to him.

Mike stumbles along like a stunned mullet as Claire and I grope him and drag him into the bedroom. We have his shirt off by the time we push him onto the bed. I pull his shoes and socks off whilst Claire unzips his trousers and we pull them down together. There’s no sexiness about Mike’s vest and ‘grandpa’ boxers, but they soon join his other clothes.

“Wh.. wh.. what are you doing?” he stutters.

“Just getting you ready for your first lesson” I explain.

With shrugs, Claire and I slip our dresses off and my thong quickly follows. We push his legs apart and straddle one leg each rubbing our pussies for some initial stimulation. We both lean forward and caress his balls and rising erection.

Michael, eyes bulging, looks confused with his eyes darting from breasts to faces. “So you two are….. you know?” he blubbers.

“Well not exactly” replies Claire. “After you and Ben left us totally unsatisfied that night at Kick-off, we sort of found ourselves in my room and ended up finishing what you two couldn’t” Claire explains.

“So that’s why we’ve got you here” I chimed in, “to teach you some home truths about how to really satisfy a woman”.

“You might have heard about operas” retorted Claire, “the shows not over till the fat lady sings. Although perhaps you haven’t, you don’t seem to be the sort of guy that would take a lady to the opera. Let me put it another way. Sex isn’t over till your lady has orgasmed at least once, or you’re so bad that she boots you out.”

I add, “It’s very simple really, just three little words, ‘She Comes First!’”

“Good sex is so much more than you getting a hard-on” I explain as I worm my way up his body till my wet pussy is just an inch or two from his cock that is thickening in my grasp. “It’s more than shoving this up a cunt”, as I twist his cock down to rub his glans across my moist lips, “and unloading your cum”.

Claire climbs off his leg and over his chest till her vulva hovers over his face. “A guy’s centre of sexual pleasure might be his cock, but a woman’s pleasure centre is NOT her cunt, but up here, at her clitoris”. She spreads her labia and then her clitoral hood to expose her pearl to show him. “Here, put you tongue on it to feel it”, she says lowering her sex onto his mouth.

“Come on, be a man, don’t be a pussy. Eat me, more tongue, more lips, but NO teeth. Think of French Kissing me! That’s it. Now you’re getting the hang of it”. Claire is squirming and twisting riding Mike’s face for every ounce of pleasure she can get out of him.

Meanwhile, I have slid across his hips rubbing my vulva and clit especially along the back of his cock. Claire and I both lean forward to kiss and fondle each other’s breasts. Mike is aware of something going on though with his face covered he can’t see anything. But his own arousal is rising as he wriggles under the weight of me trying to gain access. I slide back down off him and say “Now, now. Not so fast. We will take you to the edge a couple of times and then back off so that you don’t come before we do. You understand?”

A muffled grunt emanates from under Claire. The vibration on her clit sends a shudder through her body and she proceeds to work her whole vulva harder across his face. “Now lick and suck the opening of my vag. Work your tongue in there if you can,” she directs. “Good boy. Now you’re learning!”.

I return to my own clit stimulation rubbing along the back of his cock. As I pause, I think I can feel the throb of his big veins. My natural lubricant is flowing and I am slipping and sliding. I have to be careful not to let him slip into my pussy. My clit feels like it is swelling and my outer labia are too and seem to be wrapped half way around his shaft so that I can feel the extra sensation of my inner labia and vaginal opening sliding along his length. My arousal is rising, the Big O is not far off.

Mike’s lesson has been going for 15 or 20 minutes. Claire’s gyrations have been intensifying when she lets out a sort of moan and grunt, then lifting her body off Mike’s face, lets a gush of squirt cascade over his face and into his mouth.

With a cough and a splutter, Mike calls out “What the fuck was that?”

“That my dear boy is an orgasmic squirt. Not all woman do, but THAT is how you know when I have cum!” explains Claire.

With all of the excitement, my own orgasm hits with my whole body shaking (I’m not a squirter). “Now my dear boy, now that WE have cum, you are allowed to cum!”

With that I slide my vulva all the way up to the tip of his glans sitting at the entrance to my love tunnel. With his glans caught in my vaginal entrance, I am ‘locked and loaded’. I lift a little pulling him into an uptight position then quickly and easily slide straight down onto his length and proceed to fuck him mercilessly.

In no time I feel his cock twitching and I know he can’t be far from coming. This triggers my own deep vaginal orgasm as my Kegal muscles clamp around his thickness, pulling him in as far as they can, then finally sucking his load of spunk and holding him in for what seems like eternity, well at least 20–30 seconds.

Breathless, Claire and I flop into each other’s arms. Mike, similarly exhausted, flops out of me, then we all collapse back onto the bed.

“Well, not bad for your first lesson Mike,” states Claire.

“Wow, I see what you mean about you coming first,” replies Mike.

“Well, since there’s no work tomorrow we can continue with lesson two later tonight. How do you like your eggs for breakfast?” I continue. "Wet and sloppy I hope, but definitely NOT fertilized!"

“Can we catch up again next Friday?” asks Mike.

“Sorry mate,” explains Claire. “We have some lessons booked for Ben”.

xxxxXXXxxxx

This story was originally published by the author at "https://medium.com/tantalizing-tales/extending-michaels-sexucation-a12534bd2f2c" on Mar.20 2023, in the Medium Publication "Tantalizing Tales".

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Read every story from Sir Thomas (and thousands of other writers on Medium). Your membership fee directly supports Sir…

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Thank God It's You

This post is a rework of "That Smile" from 2013, to Tell You About ... Desire!

When it comes to 'desire', I have a genetic predisposition - I am a male of a certain age (17-70). The degree of desire does vary with relationship status and age. By my late 50's, being in a sexless marriage and relying on sex workers for my sexual pleasure, I found that I could last 3 weeks before the urges started to build up, but by the 4th week, I had 'blue balls' and the urge became an ache.

Now the average sex worker is in it for the money, not her own sexual desire. But occasionally one meets a gem who enjoys the sex as much as or sometimes more than the money. I immediately put her on my 'regulars' speed dial. Daniella is one such regular.

On the day in question, my ache is bad. My favourite brothel is near my home rail station, so I arrive just after 6pm. I had been seeing Daniella, my Moroccan Maid, regularly for a while. I was her last client for the day. When she saw me come in, she ran down the corridor, threw her arms around me, plants a passionate kiss, and says, "Thank God it's you. I've had a shitty day and I need some 'me' time".

With the preliminaries finished quickly, we welcome each other passionately. I quickly go down on her so the Tongue Engine can start to deliver some 'me' time. Her cunni linctus tastes as sweet as honey and my honey Daniella is really 'buzzing'. Finally, in desperation (?) she jumps me and rides me like a woman possessed, possessed with a need, the desire to be fucked, hard, to be filled, to come and come hard on me.  She twists and grinds on me, working her clit hard against my pubes, until she comes, with that deep down vaginal orgasm, that starts by clenching 'little Tom' tightly, then with spasms that spread to her thighs and legs, squeezing around me, then up her body, tensing, throwing her head back.  With such glorious, intense sensations coursing through my body too, I can't help but come with her.

Then she collapses across my chest.  Her gorgeous breasts crushed between us, her chest heaving in exhaustion, her whole body glowing with the sheen of perspiration. And she looks into my eyes with the most contented, serene smile I have ever seen. It was almost like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream (well it was my cream actually).

We lie together, she on top of me, for a couple of minutes as we catch our breaths, then she rolls off into the crook of me arm, and says, "I'm fucked.  I needed that.  I could just go to sleep in your arms".

Thanks Daniella.  You certainly know how to make a man feel like he is desired as the greatest lover in the world.

That smile?  Eat your heart out Mona Lisa!

(Click to see who else is desirable/desiring!)

Post Script

Seven year later, I am no longer of that 'certain age'. Post prostate radiotherapy, the urges of desire are now but a warm memory.

Further, with Covid-19 pandemic lock-down, all our bordellos have been closed since March 2020 and probably won't open again till about June 2021. The city of Melbourne might have managed to crush its 2nd wave of Covid, but we are still having to live in a Covid safe society. So sex with masks at approved social distance, just doesn't have any appeal.

The Masked Offender Punished

 

The 'Blindfolds  and Masks' theme reminded me of a memorable sexual encounter back in 2013. Then as I started to think about sensual deprivation, I thought of my post 'The Five Senses of Sex'. What happens when one is deprived of one of our five senses?

The LOP in question back in 2013, had an unique play style of teasing a gent, then punishing him for perceived infractions, such as looking up her skirt as she climbed the steep stairs.

My 'punishment' was to be thrown onto the bed, have my arms tied to the bed-head with her stockings and her used knickers placed over my face as a blindfold. She then proceeded to have her way with me.

Of our five senses, sight is probably the strongest. When our sight is taken, all our other senses go on high alert. 

I was immediately aware of the heady aroma of the scent of a woman in her knickers. There is a rustling sound and sense of movement as she climbs onto the bed. My body flinches at the ever so light touch of her fingers caressing up my body. What's this? The touch of fingers is replaced by the warm, moist lick of her tongue on my nipples. I feel the warm softness as her breasts slide up my chest. Her lips and tongue are nibbling my ear now. I can hear and feel the warmth of her breath. She whispers in my ear, 'Do you like it like this?'.

Her body lifts off me and I feel a leg come over mine. Her legs are now straddling my thighs. My heart is pumping harder with the anticipation. She is teasing me, and building up the anticipation for us both. I flinch as I feel a wet warm touch on the tip of my cock. The warmth slowly slides down the back of my shaft. I feel her labia lips spread as she sits on me now with the warmth of the full length of her 'camel toe'. She slowly starts to slide up and down my shaft. I hear little whimpers escape her lips. I feel the knob of her clit as she slides it up and down me, pleasuring herself. Her pace and breathing speeds up. She is quite wet and slick now. As she slides higher, the tip of my glans caresses her inner lips. She lifts slightly, deferring entry, and slides her clit down over me again.

Her pace is building now and she leans forward and pinches my nipples. Her teasing seems to be replaced by an urgency. Her sliding grows faster and wetter, until with the tip of my glans at the gates of heaven, she ever so slightly lifts and slides onto me to the hilt.

And so her way was had. My mask is removed and our hot perspiring bodies cuddle up for a long, deep kiss. My arms are released to encircle her and we relax in the afterglow as our heartbeats subside and breath slowly returns to normal.

As I said at the start, definitely a unique experience, still memorable 7 years later.

Tell Me About … Blindfolds and Masks #45

Dress, Formal

For my Buddy's game night, the invitation said "Dress, Formal".

I'm not overdressed, am I?

"The Games We Play" - click to see who else is playing!

There's Many A Slip Twixt.....

I was reading an old post recently, "That Smile" and was reminded of D's welcoming words, "Thank God its you. I've had a shitty day and need some Me time". Now in the commercial sex world, one doesn't expect a "relationship" and a "Girl Friend Experience" is just a marketing ploy. But just occasionally, one comes across a gem who loves the sex even more than (well at least as much as) the money. Then as we see each other more regularly, a sort of a sex-buddy 'relationship' develops. D's words above, reminded me of a more recent warm, nay hot, welcome.

I've been seeing Miss R for over a year now. This day, I had rung and made a booking, but it seems the receptionist doesn't tell the ladies the name of who a booking is with. When I arrived, Miss R was delayed, so I was shown to the bedroom to wait. I showered and was lying on the bed at attention, waiting.

R opened the door, resplendent in black G string and negligee. The moment she saw it was me, she rushed to the bed and immediately jumped my bones. 

Without a word, she had my head in her hands and tongue down my throat. Little Tom was enjoying a lovely 'panty slide'. I slipped my hands inside her negligee top to squeeze her breasts and my thumbs massaged her very prominent brown nipples. I swear, R's nipples must be wired directly to her clit, because there is an immediate reaction inside the sheer material sliding over my cock. Her body jumps into high gear. Our kissing becomes intensely passionate and our pubes are grinding ever harder. Her panties are slick in less than a minute and I am sliding in the groove of a wonderful 'camel-toe'.

God, its amazing how a piece of clothing can be so erotically alluring, how a piece of silk can promise so much, but not just yet. Delayed gratification intensifies the desire.

Our grinding is now round and round, up and down, side to side. I can  feel the hem edging. Little Tom is edging. There's many a slip twixt the cock and the slit! (cf.  George Pettie in Petite Palace, "Many things happens betweene the cup and the lip, many thinges chaunce betweene the bourde and the bed". ref. wikipedia)

We roll apart whilst I remove her negligee and soaking panties. We roll together for a cuddle. I look into her eyes and say "Well, hello to you too!"

Why Doesn't She Respond to Cunnilingus?

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