May 2023 – Audio Version

His reputation proceeded him. His skill and prowess were boasted of by a dearest of girlfriends. We had briefly met at a mutual party and exchanged a delightful conversation before he moved on to other guests. His dark looks and masterful bearing intrigued me, but to my surprise, I found him quiet and cautious, not brash and overbearing in his dominance. These characteristics intrigued me and called to my Inner Goddess. His Facebook request the next day tickled my fancy, but nothing more happened…no private conversations. 

By his applauded reputation and training, I knew he had the world at his feet, the pick of the crowd for partners. So I resigned myself to the understanding that I was not his cup of tea. I would not see him for another eight months, and even then, he said not a word to me. A few days later, my girlfriend swore he was a secret admirer and had attended the event partly because of my attendance. Weeks passed, and I contented myself with life and fantasies. 

I was deeply mired in an abysmal Thursday when my phone chirped, and his message flashed on my screen. In a rather switchback message, he inquired, with absolutely zero pressure and complete understanding, if I said no, would I be interested in hanging out or having drinks, maybe even dinner? Again, with zero pressure. I was once more fascinated by this unusually written request. His notoriety spoke of a gifted master, a professor, and an instructor—a Dominant who knew his way around the scene with the skillful twirling steps of a Master choreographer. Yet, his message was so full of hesitation and gave me doors, not windows, from which to reject his invitation gracefully. Work be damned, my Inner Goddess responded at once. I would be delighted to have dinner with him.

“Are you sure we should jump straight for dinner?” I grilled my Inner Goddess. 

“Your bestie gushes about him, and you like to eat.” She tartly responded. “Where is the downside to this plan?” Void of a legitimate argument, my mouth snapped shut. I do enjoy a delicious meal and delightful company to share it with. 

A date, a restaurant, and a dress were chosen, complete with a summer hat to finish my ensemble. The sun rose on an auspicious day though work threatened to encase me in its oily clutch, burying me in the bog of unending spreadsheets. “Tick, tick, tick,” reported Time. The little hand finally brushed the five, and I was out the door, racing for my car and the Gentleman waiting at the end of my long drive. 

A rare conversationalist, he wrapped me in riveting conversation while treating me to a chef’s choice menu that had my tastebuds in a frenzy. Our dialogue never flagged as the hours flew by, and the busy restaurant grew quiet with the passing of time. Another glass of wine and not one but two desserts were served and then removed before we rose from our table. 

At my car, I saw the small nitch in his armor, the same one that had been there in his first message. Hesitation and uncertainty. My Inner Goddess implored me to take a step closer, insisting to my doubting mind that he did indeed want to kiss us. I tossed my hat onto my passenger seat. I hoped he would see it as a sign and invitation. But, instead, the Gentleman turned to go. I dropped my head, reproaching my Inner Goddess for her brash thoughts. 

“You know,” he said, turning back and moving his body oh so close to mine. “I am going to regret it if I don’t do this.” His right hand cradled my neck while his left cautiously circled my waist. His lips hesitated a breath away from mine…waiting for my response, refusing to thrust his desire on me. I closed the distance between us. My lips were on his while his hands tightened around me. I lost myself in his caress. The stress and pain of my day unexpectedly almost magically lifted. This was what life was about, passion and exploration. There would always be spreadsheets, but this…moments like this were meant to last until the end of time. 

He released me, made me promise to message him on my arrival home, and watched me drive away. The blood pounded in my head as my Inner Goddess did cartwheels whooping and cheering in utter joy. “He kissed us. He kissed US! HE KISSED US!!!!!!” She shouted over and over. The bounce in our step carried over into the next day and was visible to my coworkers. My Inner Goddess refused to be tamed. This is her year, after all. 

I was gladdened a few days later with another dinner invitation and amused at his willingness to make the mind-numbing drive to my remote town. Customarily, I drive into the city for the company and wide variety of options provided by the millions of dining and entertainment opportunities only found in a great metropolis. Privately, I hoped the offer was a subtle request for a private evening together after our meal. 

Once more, the chosen date arrived, and I found my assignments monotonous and unending as time dragged her feet in her slow circular dance. Finally, her tiny hand had only the briefest hold on the five when I bounded out the door, hoping my eagerness was not too transparent in my movements. 

I had only just requested our table when I noticed him striding across the open courtyard. I grinned in greeting while my Inner Goddess fluttered with excitement. I gazed at him as we chatted, struck by a feeling. He reminds me of something or someone, a memory whispers but remains beyond my grasp. The more I chased after it, the further it slipped from my fingers. There is familiarity, warmth, and an odd sense of trust. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but I instinctually know I can trust this Gentleman. 

Our dinner conversation is a close sister to our first meal. Laughter and chatter flow like the smooth water of the Colorado as the river flows gently below our feet, stirred only by the cool spring breeze. I am now grateful for Time’s slow waltz. The hours seem to stand still as I gaze into his hazel eyes. Or are they green with flecks of warm steel? I can never quite tell, even in the natural light of our alfresco dining. I do know they shift and swirl, sometimes holding moments of seriousness. Still, the comedy and jovialness peek out of the corners of his eyes, never content to be the second act to whatever emotion is currently holding center stage in his gaze. 

Our dinner is boxed up. I find myself immensely awkward, standing at an impasse. Our little touches and open conversation throughout the meal had me eager and willing to be his evening partner. I wanted to invite him to my bed, but how did I accomplish this without seeming too forward or presumptuous? 

My Inner Goddess banged her head on a table in annoyance and frustration as I weakly uttered something about having cookies at my home. It’s not an invitation. It comes out like a statement, leading my Inner Goddess to groan in embarrassed dismay. My shoulders slump…why am I so bad at this? I know what I want but cannot ask or go for it. 

He pulls me close for our second kiss. The taste of smoked caramel bewitches me. Neither flavors were an ingredient in his evening cocktail. The essence that captivates me is not the bitter ash of cigarette smoke but an oak flavor. Yet, something more sophisticated than a woodland campfire. My tongue explored his mouth, probing the unusual taste of salty caramel, and charmed to discover a deep masculine bourbon aftertaste.

“Take me now!” My Inner Goddess starts to implore. I reprimand her, reminding my Inner Goddess that we are literally standing in an open parking lot with at least two hours of daylight remaining. 

“Text me your address?” His words were both a question and a decisive decision. I can’t speak. I nod, seating myself in my car before texting him the address. He follows me. His massive truck dwarfed my little car. 

“Ohhhhh…this is going to be goooood.” Moans, my Inner Goddess. She swishes our hips as we lead him up the stairs to our dwelling. To my wonder, he removes his shoes as he enters, placing them next to the door. I prefer this thoughtful gesture but am always too embarrassed to request it from my company. I release my left foot from the ribbons of my wedge and have just unwound the opposite shoe when his hands find my waist, up my breasts, to my throat, pressing me against the door. I groan into him as his lips find mine. 

Given their freedom in the privacy of the apartment, passion, need, and desire flame to life. Hands and arms intertwined. I’m on the tiptoes of my left foot while my right leg winds around his hip and thigh. His hands are like a vice in my sapphire waves as I pull him into my body. 

“Where are we taking this?” He pants, licking his lips. 

“Straight back.” My Inner Goddess responds as we begin to walk backward, towing him forward. 

Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifts me straight into the air. I think he means for me to straddle him and begin to twine my legs around his waist. I’ve barely started this move when he hurls me onto the bed with great force and surprisingly high. Someone was taking notes. My body bounces twice while my Inner Goddess squeals in unfettered delight. 

He crawls on top of me, spreading his weight over my body as he buries his tongue in the recesses of my mouth. My tongue laps at the welcome swirl of caramel and bourbon still flavoring his kisses. My hips arch to meet his body, and the silk folds of my dress cascade down my knees to expose my thighs. My arms wrap around his body as he gives himself over in devotion. 

I am moved to a sitting position. My head pressed to his muscular chest as he brushed my sapphire curls to the side, seeking the catch to my dress. As his fingers work, I remain statuesque, feeling his heart thumping against my cheek. My zipper races down my spine. I will never tire of the erotic, sensual grace of being undressed by a man. The Gentleman’s fingers expertly flicked the clasp of my bra. My dress and brassiere spill from my shoulders to expose my vulnerable breasts. I lean back as he lazily inches the delicate pink material down my hips, his thumbs catching my creamy thong on the way down until I am utterly nude in his presence, half reclined on the pillows. He takes this opportunity to remove his shirt, allowing it to pool on the wood floor at his feet. His belt is next as it slithers around his waist and into his strong, calloused hands. I expect the worn leather to be placed on the dresser. My Inner Goddess trembles in yearning fascination for his pants to meet the same fate as my dress, but he stops with the removal of his belt, the supple leather gripped in his clutches.

He moves up the foot of the bed, over my legs, and my hips until the man is straddling my body. My fingers reach for him hooking my thumbs through the belt loops of his dark jeans. His eyes question, and I lift my head in consent. Rough leather wraps once and twice around my neck, and the ends melt into one within his dominant hand. He pulls me forward and up, my neck arching to receive his ardent and needy kisses. The leather is tight and coarse around my regal neck. I intentionally slow my heart rate. Deep breaths are complicated. The tightness of the leather encasing my neck builds in the passionate ardor of his kisses. When his mouth releases me, the belt keeps me his willing prisoner as his mouth moves down to explore each of my wanton breasts.

The movement between a man and a woman is a familiar dance. Yet, I relish the experience of this new composition and relax as I learn the steps with this new partner. Although I have yet to experience any tricks his reputation boasts of, I discover that he is a seasoned and gifted lover. His hands take turns holding the leather straps, still binding my throat and caressing my needy flesh.

He does not make me wait too long. Although it feels like an eternity of waiting for my Inner Goddess. We feel his hot breath on my inner thighs as he kisses each side, his nose brushing the slit of my goddess. Then, finally, he releases the belt from his clutch, though he does not remove it from my neck. His hands are needed elsewhere. The leather straps lay abandoned between the mountains of my breasts, stretching down to my abdomen. 

I am trying to remain calm. I must keep my fingers digging into my comforter’s soft fluffiness, afraid I will lose control, forcing his head and mouth into my service. “Don’t be desperate, don’t be desperate.” I chant. My moist goddess quivers at his nearness. 

It is at that moment the alarm on my phone begins to whine. It is the 8 PM alarm for my medication. The noise demanded my immediate attention. I expect the Gentleman to raise his head and allow me to silence the annoying ringing from the other room. Instead, to my astonishment, he completely ignores the shrieking siren. 

Like a dying man kneeling at a desert oasis, he drinks me in. No, he devours me. His mouth and tongue are in a skillful frenzy as he discovers my pearl. I am sent into oblivion, the screaming alarm forgotten as my Inner Goddess journeys into space. I pull the pillow across my face to muffle my ecstasy, but after a moment, I feel his rough fingers push the plump cushion away. His tongue never stops rolling. 

He shifts between my legs, and I feel his fingers at the gate of my goddess, testing and exploring before seamlessly entering. My goddess tightens around him, he takes it slow, yet his mouth still works, my pearl. I am in a constant state of coming. My mind and soul are beyond reason. 

Though not what his prestige boasts of, tales of his prowess fail to do him justice. The Gentleman has found my inner sanctuary and the jewel buried within. His mouth leaves the lips of my goddess as his fingers take charge of a different experience. My frenzy has climbed yet another rung, and I clutch the covers to my mouth as I come, only to have him brush them from my face once more while he growls, “I can’t hear you.”

I am no longer a person with thoughts and worries. For a period, I cease to exist. I am now swallowed in the intoxication of this erotic orgasm. He has yet to release me from my first orgasm as his mouth returns to my goddess, but his fingers remain, ever his eager servants. My body glistens, the air conditioning unable to match the exertion and energy of the moment. 

With regret, my fingers find his rippling bicep, tapping a time-out. My body aches with spasms, and the shrill cacophony from the living room returns me to my senses. His face lifts while his fingers slow their swirl. 

“Can’t breath.” I’m gasping as my soul melts with my body again. “I gotta get that…medicine.” His belt untwists from my neck, and it, too, disappears below the surface of my bed. I hope I sound moderately coherent as I struggle to rise and gracelessly fumble toward the front room, the noise now grating on my eardrums. 

I am shocked by the screen’s revelation of the time. The Gentleman had ravished my soul and Inner Goddess for the past twenty-one minutes. How had he even breathed? His tongue had been a perpetual machine! I wondered if this was a new record for either of us, though common sense told me this was probably a normal occurrence for him. 

I returned, and he gathered me against his now-naked body. I peeked a look and relished the sight of his swollen glory before turning my face and matching his kiss for enthusiastic kiss. 

We took our time, sprawled on the bed as legs intertwined, our fingers learning the curves and outlines of each other’s bodies. The weight of his form was a comforting pressure despite the room’s warmth. I was pleased to note that my goddess had not absorbed his mouth’s caramel and bourbon taste as he pressed his lips into my eager mouth. 

With a sigh, he pulls back. I lounged in his arms, looking up into his eyes. I still could not decide on their color, and I was mesmerized by the mystery of it. My fingers trace his chest as we both catch our breath.

“Damn, my boundaries.” He says with another sigh. 

My mind is on instant alert. Boundaries are of paramount importance, and I begin to worry. Have I clumsily stumbled through them, making a mess of our encounter?   

“Whoa, whoa,” I pull back slightly. “What’s going on?”

“No, it’s not you.” He closes the distance between us. “I wasn’t expecting this, you know I’m a Dom, and I know there is abuse in your past to be careful of. We haven’t talked about boundaries, rules, or testing.”

He caught my raised eyebrow. “No, I’m not worried about you. Me. You don’t know if I’ve tested, and I know I have a bit of a reputation. There has not been any negotiation.”

“Well, I did put fresh sheets on the bed, just in case.” My Inner Goddess presses me to include, “And I did change my outfit twice this morning.” In reality, it was three outfits, but I did not want to seem too crazy. 

“See, I didn’t know that. We talked about a lot of things tonight, but not this.” He’s momentarily caught up in his thoughts. His jaw twitched. He had come to a conclusion. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight.” (My Inner Goddess wilts). “Not in the middle, when we are both naked and wanting this. I want to talk about this because it’s too easy to say yes at the moment and regret everything the next day.”

I’m torn. My esteem and admiration for this Gentleman have skyrocketed, but my Inner Goddess is moping. We are not asking for a session, just the connection and intimacy between a man and a lonely woman. My respect for his boundaries is paramount, and I refuse to push the issue. I offer to dress and sit in the living room to continue with this new topic, but he responds by sliding down my body and lapping at my nectar again. 

My Inner Goddess is placated. I’m momentarily distracted from our conversation, lost in the stars, as my orgasms explode from his tongue’s touch and his fingertips’ pressure on my hidden jewel. I have covered my mouth once more, but he drags the covers away. My moans barrel forth as my nerves explode in need. 

He slows, and I catch my breath. Reality nudges my mind, causing me to realize he had expertly dodged my questions. I pull him back up to my arms, but before I can return to our conversation, he abruptly asks, “Why do you cover your mouth when you come?”

I blink, “I’m too loud.” The answer seems obvious.

“For who?” His face is quizzical, his left eyebrow cocked. 

“Guys have told me so,” I respond, trying to brush the question away. I have tried controlling my noise, but it’s nearly impossible with an experienced lover such as himself. My Inner Goddess is usually determined that even the stars should know of her pleasure. 

“Please, don’t do that.” His lips are so close, his gaze penetrating deep into my hazel orbs. “Not with me, and those guys are ridiculous. I want the people two hours away to hear you.”

I chuckle, moan, and silence his words with my kisses. I’m trying so hard to be good, but I feel the weight of his glory resting on my thigh as I lay in his arms. I want to touch him, taste him, take him within the folds of my goddess, and experience the true essence of who he is. I will not budge, my resolve is too great, and I feel safe with the Gentleman. If he is this steadfast and resolute with his self-implied boundaries, I know that any holds or restrictions I place will be met with equal steadfastness. Yet the heavy pressure of his glory sorely tests my resoluteness.

He tries to move between my legs once more, but I hold him fast. I am deeply curious about his boundaries. I want to know what I should have asked before inviting him to my bed. Nothing had to be decided. I am not demanding or insisting on sex. Yet, my curiosity would not be silenced. I wanted to continue the conversation. I roll onto my side, facing him. 

“You don’t know anything about me.” He concedes, his hands never leaving my body. “Who knows, maybe I’m just here for your kidney?” His voice is a little solemn though his words are meant to be lighthearted. Peals of laughter ring from my bosom. The unexpected hilarity and small truth of the matter tickle my deepest sense of humor. My Inner Goddess begs me not to snort and ruin the moment. At my laughter, his body visibly relaxes. 

“That’s good. Not everyone would laugh at that.” His fingertips are tracing my abdomen. “Now, where are your kidneys?” Through my gale, I confided that I’d already lost two organs, my appendix and my gallbladder. 

“Your gallbladder?!” He throws his hand up in mock dismay. “That’s the real money maker! I guess my evening is wasted!” I can not breathe, the playfulness of his comments stealing the air from my lungs. My kidneys become a running joke for the remainder of the evening. 

“But seriously, we haven’t talked or negotiated anything. I don’t want to screw this up. There’s time to do this right.” He states with finality.

“I’m not too worried,” I say when I can finally speak, amusement still bubbling just beneath the surface. “I vetted you pretty thoroughly before excepting your invitation. I won’t let just anyone know where I live.” My fingers swirl the outline of his shoulder tattoo. “Besides, I know the Queen would have your head if you stepped out of line,” I said cooly.

“True,” he nods in agreement. “She’s very protective of her people.”

“She speaks very highly of you, so you have nothing to worry about.” I finished. 

He leans close, kissing my shoulder lightly before flipping me onto my stomach, his girth now pressing his yearning against my thigh. I suppose our conversation is now at an end, and I pressed him no further. 

His fingers trace the tattoo on my shoulder, down my spine to my peaches, tracing every curve. He rises to his knees, bending over my body. He nibbles and bites, alternating between tiny sharp pinches and thick squeezes. I twist at the brush of his nails as they scratch my bare skin. His glory is now at my shoulder. Like a hound eager for the prize, my Inner Goddess strains at her leash. We. Will. Not. Touch him. Not without invitation. 

His attention is on my waist. I lift my hips to him as his fingers track the folds of my goddess. I’m so wet. My longing is impossible to ignore. His fingers flow up and down, his fingertips playing in the river of my nectar and causing me to moan. My legs quiver in anticipation.  

He leans down and begins to lap. It’s a slightly unusual position as I am still on my stomach, but he is undeterred and continues his exploration – everywhere. I’m undone. I feel glorious as his fingers press within me. I lift my hips higher, and the breeze from the fan whisps, whisps, whisps on my damp skin. My Inner Goddess silently begs for more, and he fervently acquiesces, allowing me to come from the combination of his mouth and fingers once more.  

His legs are still spread wide next to my shoulder. He adjusts himself and brings his pulsing glory to rest on the plush comforter next to my lips. I incline my head closer, but he retreats, backing his hips away. I hold still, and his glory advances once more. I try another tactic, my eager tongue flicks out to caress the tip, but he retreats once more. Now I understand the game. He means to tease me, keeping himself just at the brink of my lips, but I am not permitted to touch. I grin, enjoying this novel teasing. 

His fingers whirl, summoning the orgasms waiting for his call. My howls and warm breath gust over his glory as it strains, barely an inch from my lips. Through the slits of my eyes, I see his head pulse. This is what he wants, to feel my cries quivering over his sensitive need. I do not need to fake my moans, his touch is too skilled, and he has dialed into my body and my Inner Goddess’ cravings.

I hear the key to unlocking the deepest part of my Inner Goddess uttered, and I nearly convulse as my body tremors, my toes curling as the intensity of my orgasm redoubles. Then, noting my response, the Gentleman repeats the key in an even deeper octave. 

“Good girl.” The words resonate throughout the room. Wave after wave claims my body, his fingers and tongue taking turns teasing pleasure from every cell of my soul.  

He slows, taking his time before lifting his tongue and removing his hands. I sincerely appreciate his slowness, my body still tremulous as the last of my orgasms wash through me. I begin to melt into the comfort of my bed until his words, “Good girl,” reach my ears yet again. My body buckles as it responds to this intrinsic turn-on, one more orgasmic hurray claiming my Inner Goddess. 

With a last shuddering moan, I collapse. I hear the Gentleman’s slight chuckle as his nails run up my spine and tease my neck. I smile. 

 “Tell me about your tattoos.” He positions himself to lie beside me. “What do they mean?”

I pause before raising onto my elbows and proceed to guide his attention to each of my eight tattoos. Some stories are longer than others, but I keep my tale brief. He touches each one commenting or teasing out a bit more story if my account is too ambiguous. I realize that the eight were placed out of tribute to a love grown cold and now beyond my reach. I feel a whisper as grief’s veil shadows my heart. “Not one of the eight tattoos is just for me or in celebration of myself.” I marvel internally.  

Impatiently, I brush the gray veil away, turning my eyes to the tattoos weaving across his chest, deltoids, and forearms. I marvel at our shared story. Our tattoos profess a deep love and years of dedication now painfully ripped from our daily existence. Chapters of our lives are carved into our skin, each too precious to remove, each too painful to keep. 

He lays back into the comforter. The floor has long claimed the pillows, but neither of us bothered to reach for them. I nestled into his chest, my left leg wrapped over his thigh. I am still careful to respect his boundary and not touch his semi-erect glory as it lounges across his groin. I am content. There were no solid expectations for the evening, boundaries were respected, and here I was, floating in the afterglow in the arms of a Gentleman. 

I glide into a simple coral slip to escort him to the front door. He chides me for continually teasing him and making it difficult for him to dress. While provoking had not been on my mind, it certainly was now! I sashayed my hips as he followed me down the short hallway to the living room, causing him to grab me and press me into the wall. His gruff hands were on my throat, my hips, my hair. My leg enveloped his hip. My fingers claw at his shirt as he kisses the hell out of me.  

We mutually break apart, breathless. I bite my lip as the brat in my Inner Goddess rises to the surface. “You really should go. You have a long drive, after all.” My voice appeared innocent, but the silky undertones of my brattiness were blatantly obvious. He merely looks at me and shakes his head as he slides a foot into his boot. 

“I’ll be back for that kidney.” He teases. He leaves, his last kiss still emanated the smoky caramel and bourbon I had noticed earlier in the evening.

He descended the stairs, and I moved to peek from the blinds to watch his exit. He did not appear for several seconds. I was confused until, at last, I saw him heading to the left. He glanced up, catching me in the warm glow of my living room. 

“I forgot where I parked!” He hollers up, shaking his head. 

Laughing, I waved and turned my back from the window. Our intensity and craving were still palpable, swirling around the small room. I ran my fingers through my messy curls and sighed. Once in bed, sleep found me still enjoying the peculiar taste of caramel and bourbon. 

Until next time, XO. Elsie