House of Pleasure

6 min read

I hadn’t seen you in years. I know how things can change and yet, when I saw your name on the list of realtors my secretary found, I couldn’t help myself. I had to see you again, had to know if now, after all this time, the spark was still there.

Your face told me everything I needed to know. God, you are gorgeous. That air of confidence and cool professional competence, the easy charm and warmth that has to go with the job and yet with you is so much more. There, with your crisp and tailored clothing you were in charge and yet beguilingly startled and stirred. I had to hope it was me. I saw the deep breath you took lift your full breasts and I was as hot as a teenager again. I know you noticed where my eyes looked. Hell, I couldn’t help myself. I tried to look away but your legs, your breasts, your full red lips, the curve of your neck… I just hoped you wouldn’t see what you were doing to me and yet I wanted you to see me hard, ready, throbbing through the fabric of my jeans. I held the folder you gave me as casually as I could in front of me and tried to remember to breathe.

I am sure you’ll love the openness and light, you said. And, of course, it comes fully furnished.

We walked through the house and I heard your words and nodded just like I understood but all I could focus on was the shift and sway of your ass as you walked ahead of me. Then the lacy bras in the closet you opened so casually, the artful scatter of panties like glimpses of a cast off rainbow, and the toys in the bedside drawer you happened to open, so I could appreciate the quality of the joinery, you said. As if carpentry was the first thing on my mind. I wanted to moan, howl with desire; if you had planned all of this to point out everything I had missed all these years you could not have done it better. And the smile, the lingering way your hand passed over the tools of pleasure, the slow reveal in the way you opened the drawer, and the even slower close. You knew.

Then, as we left one room — don’t ask me which one — and you stepped aside, just enough for me to pass, your breast brushed against me and suddenly our eyes met, not as client and realtor. No, as man and woman and nothing hidden anymore. I had to touch you, had to feel the heat of the bare skin of your arm and then we were together, and the rush and heat of having you there in front of me, of feeling the warmth of your body, the sweet softness of your lips against mine, willing, ready. Touching you, hands along your sides, over your ass, lifting your skirt, feeling you hot and wet already. Oh, god, what a lovely rush to turn you, lift your skirt, panties gliding down to the floor, my cock touching you and you shifting to meet me and then it was all warmth and wetness and hands and cock meeting there where our bodies were joined. Feeling your need rise with mine, breath for breath, thrust for thrust and finally our cries as one.

Afterward we fell onto the bed, and I watched you, wondering what took me so long to realize that everything I could ask for was right here.

I thought of the toys in the drawer in the other room, thought about the whirlpool you mentioned as a feature not to miss. To die for you said, and the way your eyebrows arched and your eyes widened, that phrase suddenly meant so much more. I breathed deeply and smelled the musky scent of sex and lust and felt my cock begin to stir anew. I turned to you and ran my hand lightly along your silky calf, lifting your skirt again, sliding fingers gently up along your thigh even as my other hand felt around your waist to unclip your skirt and then slide it off altogether. I felt you begin to tense, perhaps thinking about your schedule and other clients waiting, but then our eyes met and I saw the flush of desire on your cheeks and the smoky need in your eyes.

I felt you relax once more and shift towards me as my hands brushed your thighs, pressed your legs apart and then slowly, slowly so I could watch your eyes, I bent to taste you, I felt your indrawn breath, felt your legs come up and your hands reach out for me and I smiled as my tongue slid between your swollen lips, smiled as I flicked your clit and pressed in and back off and then in again. I knew we had all the time we needed and the thrill of your response let me know I had your full attention.

I lingered there between your thighs, tongue circling, pressing, pointing in as deeply as possible then just barely skimming your lips, just barely touching you, gliding along the length of your pussy. I paused and left a trail of kisses and soft nips along your inner thigh while my hands reached up for your breasts and ran down your sides, lifting you to me. Once more tasting you, once more hearing your breath become hoarse and gasping, once more your hands tangling in my hair, pulling me into you. I felt you tense and grip me with your thighs, felt you tremble and moan. There was nothing as wonderful as knowing I was doing this to you, with you.

I slid back and smiled. Reached out a hand and helped you up. You noticed my cock, how could you not? My cock stood stiffly out in front of me, the head shiny and tight. You reached for me and I watched your fingers hold me and felt myself strain at your touch; you slid a finger along the shaft, then back, watching my eyes. Oh baby, I want you again and now but there isn’t time and I smiled back, pulled you close, let you feel me throb for a moment, kissed you and then stepped away and led you through the house.

The whirlpool was set before French doors which looked out over the garden; I opened them and the breeze lifted the gauze curtains making them swell inward, bringing with it the smell of fresh grass and flowers and the sounds of a world quite far away from us now. I helped you into the bath and noticed there were oils and lotions on a tray close to hand. How thoughtful of the owners, I said. You laughed and it seemed the laugh was as much in anticipation as in humor. For a moment I wondered if I was merely following your plan, a pawn to your queen, but then I realized I didn’t care who led and who followed. All that mattered was how this story ended. if you had crafted the scene and setting, I was happy to play along and join you on your stage.

The water rose to just below your breasts and as I watched you trailed your fingers over your nipples, circling, making them harden and rise, slowly, languidly, your other hand disappearing below the water. You leaned back and closed your eyes.

Come closer, you whispered and I kneeled beside the tub. You turned to me and ran your hand up along my calf, along the back of my thigh, over my ass; and your other hand, wet and warm from the water, slid along the shaft of my cock, caught the head between your fingers, holding me and bringing me to your lips. I felt your tongue along the head, tracing the slit there, taking me in and then letting me feel the edge of your teeth, sliding hands and mouth along my hardness. It was almost impossible to breathe. I felt my legs tremble and had to put out a hand to catch myself.

You leaned back and laughed. Come on in babe, you said, the water is fine.

It’s not just the water that’s fine, I replied, though I wasn’t sure if the words were said out loud or just loud inside my head.

In the tub our legs tangled and I took your feet up in my lap and rubbed them. Fingers digging, sliding along the bottom of each foot. Reaching up to caress your ankle and the firm curve of your calf. Then back down to press here, then there, stretch a toe just so. You leaned back, your eyes barely open, catlike in your complete enjoyment of the moment. Your smile was my reward.

After a time, you moved closer and I pulled you onto my lap, facing me. We kissed softly then more intensely. I felt your tongue slide against mine, your hands on my shoulders clinging to me. My cock was between your thighs and you pressed them together to capture me there, press and release, then press again. My hand found the silk of your thighs and my fingers slid up and into you, tenderly exploring the swollen lips of your pussy, slipping in then sliding out once more. You raised yourself enough so that you were above my cock and then settled down on me, rising up then pushing down further, slowly, slowly until I filled you completely.

We held ourselves there, the water softly lapping against our sides. I felt your breath hot and heavy with desire on my neck, your fingers digging into my back, and slowly we began to move, just barely rocking back and forth so that it was less a motion than a shift in pressure. I felt your inner muscles around my cock and knew you could feel each throb, each lift. I slid my hand down your back, down to the cheeks of your ass, and pulled you onto me so that each movement was amplified, heightened, made more intense. I bent my head to nibble your breasts, flick the nipples with my tongue, take in first one then the other, suck them, stretch them as we rocked together.

I could feel the pressure building in me and part of me wanted nothing more than to give in to the delicious thrust and thrust and explode, but not yet, this was too wonderful to end, too exquisite to stop.

I reached behind you for a bottle of oil. You felt me shift and questioned me with a look. I tipped the bottle and poured a little oil into my hand, the smell of lavender and roses filled the room and you smiled as my hands, so slick and fragrant now, slid along your shoulders, down your back, up along your neck and back and around and back again.

I lifted you and stood. Come on lover, I said, there are still rooms to explore.

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