Red is a vixen, Red is a flirt
Red told me to go to him and rip off his shirt
Red is a siren, Red is a tease
Red told me to take him and bring him to his knees
He was playing D&D and I was in my bedroom somewhat bored. I say bored, “bored” was really more of an excuse to message her out of the blue and chat. OK, flirt, fine. “Go distract him”, Red told me, “show him your boobs.”
“He’s playing via webcam,” I pointed out. “So, not a good idea.”
“Stand off-camera and strip,” She said.
It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. It’s not like I need to be encouraged to flash my rack at Crush. So I prowled into his room, whispered a few choice naughtinesses into his ear, stood to one side and pulled up my top. A toothy grin appeared on his face before I dashed back to my computer.
When his game had finished, he came in to see me. His attitude was instantly flirtatious, sexually-charged. Had I done all that with one flash of my goods? Hmm, looks like he’d been talking to Red too. I bet she’d nudged him towards being worked up, just like she’d nudged me.
“Just give me a minute to finish here,” I said, tapping a few bits of a review out.
When I went in, I found him sprawled on the bed. Instead of his usual supremely-lazy attire, he was in the sexy, sexy jeans and green-striped shirt I’d bought him. For a man surgically-attached to his trackie bottoms, that there was bedroom-wear. And he was fucking rocking it, sly smile and all.
As we watched each other, I stripped, making sure to take extra care on the breast-reveal that I know is his favourite part.
Just as my bra hit the floor, my phone buzzed up a message. Red.
“Has he bent to your will yet?”
I looked over to him. His pose was… not quite submissive, but certainly passive. He lay waiting for me to leap on him. Given he’d spent the last few days punishing me for any imagined transgression, I’d say I might be in control here. And he’d dressed up just for me…
“Oh, I think so…” I replied quickly, knowing he probably got a buzz off us talking about him. “Best be off.”
Naked, I crawled onto the bed from his feet, up over his legs until I paused and perched just at his thighs. He looked amazingly sexy. A shirt always says “rip me off” and his eyes shone. The bulge in his jeans was particularly unsubtle. I loved that.
I spent some time just admiring him and exchanging flirtatious talk before I pulled his upper body towards my chest. His mouth lunged at my nipples eagerly and I pushed his head from breast to breast, rubbing his face into me. Now and again I’d push him away, down onto the bed, and then pull him back up by his shirt. I was enjoying my display of dominance over him.
He told me he loved to be pushed about from nipple to nipple, to struggle half-blinded by flesh, to have to work hard to find them with his tongue, to not quite get enough. He told me he could do it for hours, but it was only minutes before we decided to add a new element.
Our under-the-bed restraints may not be the classiest piece of kit, but on a bed with no headboard, it certainly comes in handy to have them always there ready. I secured his arms. The problem before was that he could just lean forward and plant his lips on my nipples at any time unless I held him down. Now I moved backwards, lengthening the distance.
Soon I could control his access to my nipples with just a slight lean forward or back. He strained at his bonds as I darted in and out, pushing his head from tit to tit when I got close. Just long enough to get my fill of pleasure from his mouth on my skin, just short enough that he still felt restricted.
After a while, I pushed him back down on the bed and swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. I peppered his delicately-sculpted chest with kisses and licks before working my way down to the buttons of his fly.
He’d only done two up, which is good, because they’re a bitch.
So I opened them and pressed my face to the base of his cock as it peeped from above the fabric. I kissed his cock and nuzzled the fly of his jeans further open as I did until he was nearly fully exposed. My fingers did the rest.
I licked and sucked as he moaned in his restraints before hopping back over his hips and pressing myself into him.
He wanted me to fuck him. It was late, but I couldn’t say no. I wanted him. I wanted to take him. I could feel the crispness of his jeans under my thighs, the heat of his cock against my pussy lips, the flutter of his heartbeat through his chest.
I grabbed my faithful Tango bullet and began to lower myself down onto his shaft. Handily, I was already quite wet from our foreplay and from testing a lovely glass dildo not long before, so no lube was required before I felt him full inside me. I pumped up and down on his slickened cock and groaned as he hit deep inside my pussy. His face was turned sideways into the pillows, passion twisting him into curled up shapes and ecstatic forms. He drove his hips upwards in time with my own movements, thrusting hard against gravity and my weight.
It wasn’t long before all I could do was hold on and keep my tight grip on the vibrator at my clit. Now he was doing all the work and I sagged into him, my previous energy drawing in, coalescing in my cunt. My orgasm rose up in me like bubbles in a tar pit, bursting suddenly and sending thick black tendrils of pleasure surging to the tips of me. I came gasping on top of him, my moans causing him to sigh with delight.
The climaxes that followed were soon joined by Crush’s own grunting rapture, his brows knitted in effort and expulsion, his cock twitching. I let him lie there, blissful and exhausted in his restraints for a time as I, too, recovered my breath. Then I loosened his bonds and set him free.
Silk is a harlot, Silk is a whore
Silk told her the day was won and cannot wait for more