Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Trip to the beach: The Fantasy

All in all the trip to the beach was wonderful.  Both Master and I very much enjoyed ourselves.  We basked in the first real warm sunshine of the spring.  We found dozens and dozens of beautiful beach rocks and came home laden with treasures.  The only thing that could have made it a little more perfect would have been a little kinky interlude.  Like perhaps something like this...

He sat and watched her eat.  The way she licked the tips of her fingers off and smiled sensually when their eyes met, the way her tongue was pink as it licked the sauce from her lips sent a shiver of lust through him.  He did not drink but he encouraged her to order a second glass of Chardonnay.  He liked her a little loose, a little unfocused… relaxed, vulnerable. 

Their hotel was just across the lot from the little seafood restaurant.  She was just a little unsteady as they stepped down one curb and then up the other and he took her arm, his grip perhaps a little too strong.   He could feel her tremble. 

The door to their room was up some stairs and around back of the hotel and as she fumbled for the key card, he pressed her against the door, one hand reaching up and taking control of her hair and tipping her head back.  She stilled her neck arching, her lips parting.  He could smell the wine and garlic on her breath, but it was pleasant, even succulent.  His lips hovered over hers, inhaling the aroma of her meal and more, the very air she exhaled.

Her eyes were wide and liquid, but not passive.  There was the light of anticipation and perhaps just a little bit of resistance there, like she was challenging him to conquer her.

“Are you ready for this?”

She smiled slowly and that infuriating pink tongue reached out and licked her lips again.  Her voice was low and taunting, “Are you?” 

Clearly the wine was making her bold.  He felt a rush, he loved her like this, just slightly insolent and yet willing, even hungry for what was about to happen.     

He pushed her harder, his leg forced between hers, wrenching her head back further.  “You want it, bitch?”

He could see the struggle, the natural resistance battling with the lust that was raging just under the surface.  Her voice was just a little angry, “You bastard, you know what I want.”

She could hear the triumph in his voice, “Then ask for it.”

She bucked against him, struggled and fought to free herself from his grip, deliberately pulling against his hand holding her hair, her hands pushing him back, her eyes and lips stubbornly closed.  But he was strong, far stronger than her, and there was no one to see them in the dark as she mutely wrestled against the inevitable.  Finally she grated between clenched teeth, “Make me.”  And then her tone turned softer and he could hear the need throbbing in her tone, “I need you to make me.”

Only then did he take the card from her hand and opened the door and shoved her through.  As she staggered back, he gripped the front of the blouse and forcibly ripped it open.  His weight bore her down onto the floor.  She grunted as his weight came down on top of her but his hand on her throat cut off any chance to scream. 


  1. Damn, I am so familiar with that feeling "I need you to make me."

    I love your descriptions. Very sensual.

  2. "I should know better than to read your posts on my lunch hour", she squeaks, all the while madly fanning her blushing face. Verrah Hawt.

  3. Mmmmmm, nice fantasy.

    Well, maybe not "nice" that might not be the right word {grinning}

    Enjoyable though.