Erotica: Bowled Over By Ben

Image courtesy of www.freedigitalphotos.net

I love stripping on stage. I have the audience in the palm of my hand and I’m playing with them, slowly teasing them with the power of suggestion: an item of clothing shed here, a flash of skin there, the hint of a curve revealed, a coquettish smile over a bare shoulder – and I have them hooked. It’s an art, burlesque, if you do it right, and I do it so right that people come back for more. When I scan the tables and make eye contact with my spectators, I see men exhale the breaths they’ve been unconsciously holding in, and I know women are instinctively and involuntarily squirming in their seats. Oh yes, I’m bloody good at my job – in fact I’m famous for it. “Coucou…” I tantalisingly beckon in French with a finger, “Coucou!” and there isn’t a person out there who doesn’t want to follow me as I leave the stage clad only in my ostrich feathers.

Last night was no different, except for one thing: in the audience I saw someone. Someone who had a certain something about them – that sexual allure you can pinpoint a mile off, that animal magnetism you couldn’t bottle if you tried. He was suited and booted like the rest of the upmarket crowd before me, but whilst the others on his table were sitting taut and engrossed, he was relaxed and attentive, and his smile was generous and true. I knew in that way you know that he would be mine before the night was out.

And then there he was backstage, this man: not tall, not short, which suited my 5’7” in heels perfectly. My sister Annie introduced us: “Coucou, this is Benjamin Dax–”

“– Call me Ben” he interrupted. Suddenly I was looking into a pair of brown eyes sparkling with intelligence and humour. I liked what I saw.

“Ben then, nice to meet you.” I smiled and held out a hand: Ben took it in his, so that my fist was embraced in his palm and his fingers were around my wrist. The pressure was so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, yet somehow it felt electric. My professionalism escaped me: my legs went weak and I could only smile goofily like a teenager. Annie noticed and grinned imperceptibly.

“Drink?” Ben offered, “I think you’ve earned it tonight. You were sensational up there.”

“Thank you – I’d love one. But not here” I replied, recovered, “I feel as if I’m still onstage. It’s like the eyes of the world are still upon me!” And indeed they were: all carefully selected heads present were surreptitiously turned our way, wondering what the handsome well-dressed stranger was doing backstage with their star, their Coucou.

“I know a great little place,” Ben suggested, “a short hop away. I’m sure you could manage it – even in your heels.”

“Take me, I’m yours” I acquiesced, throwing on my fake fur coat over my glamorous offstage outfit. Ben nodded approvingly. That’s the thing about being a star – people expect you to be dressed like a ‘somebody’ when you’re not working, and I do hate to disappoint my audience, even during my time off.

With a casual wave to Annie and the others I followed Ben out of the door. This was no longer my usual way of doing things, so I was slightly nervous. But, true to his word, Ben’s “great little place” was just around the corner, and he was a real gentleman the whole stroll there: taking my arm, he walked on the outer part of the pavement, sheltering me from passing vehicles, whilst on the pedestrian side he answered any questioning glances from passersby with “No, it’s not….she gets that all the time –” turning to me “ – Honey you really should change your hair, people are confusing you with Coucou again!”

I could actually feel myself relaxing in Ben’s confident and charming company, and as we walked into the bar I took the strong hand he offered as he helped me up the stairs, and I deliberately didn’t let it go until we were sat in our private booth. Ben smiled at me over the table as the pretty waitress took my order, his eyes never straying from my face. “I’ll have the same,” he said, “Mojitos for both of us”. Over the next few hours we chatted and laughed in our secluded sanctuary. I felt elated: here was this perfect stranger sat opposite me, unafraid of my fame – my face – and yet still perfectly attuned to my body, my womanliness, but without the cachet of celebrity. I was impressed – and entertained. I felt recklessly intoxicated: the feel of Ben’s knee pressed against my leg was driving me crazy, and as his hand massaged my thigh I felt like some kind of glamorous courtesan, dressed up to the nines with my stockinged feet in his lap. I was flirting like a demon and loving every moment of it. And so it was that my professional mask slipped bit by bit, so that by the end of the evening I was no longer Coucou but Elizabeth once more – I was me. And I was having a hell of a lot of fun again.

As the bar closed, we called a cab – to Ben’s. “No chauffeur, I’m afraid”, he smiled ruefully. “A refreshing change,” I beamed at him in response. As per our historic family rules (although it had been a long time), I sent my sister Annie a ‘safe’ text to let her know where I was headed and with whom, and I stifled a smirk at the thought that since she was probably tucked up in bed she would read it in the morning – which is when a barrage of return texts would be coming back my way begging me to tell all. This evening I really was being the old me again – how wonderfully invigorating! I felt all dizzy with joy at the thought of truly shedding the stage for a night. But not, it has to be said, as dizzy as when in the back of the taxi Ben stroked the hollow at the back of my knee, both reassuring and exciting me at the same time. I turned to him as the streetlights flashed by, looking up at his face to get the measure of him. “Yup, I’m still here”, Ben laughed, now squeezing my leg with his hand. I placed my own over the top. “Me too”, I smiled. Ben’s eyes danced, and his grip tightened, but he made no move to kiss me.

Soon enough we drew up outside a smart block of flats. The building was art deco in design, and as Ben helped me out of the cab I read the words Underwood Mansions inscribed over the grand entrance. “I’m on the third floor”, he said, showing me into the old ornate lift. Holding my hand, he surveyed me in the mirrors, drinking in the sight of me.

I couldn’t help it: “What do you see?” I asked, pouting my famous lips, my elegant reflection echoed back to me in multiple by the fabulous gilt-edged mirrors surrounding us.

“I see a beautiful woman who needs to stop working so hard”, Ben smiled.

“Just as well I’m making the most of my time off right now then, isn’t it?” I batted back with a wink of my stage lashes.

I noticed Ben’s even teeth under the ornamental light, the beautiful curve of his mouth, and the softness of his skin. I wanted to touch his face, but didn’t quite have the courage, so I did the next best thing and took his other hand in mine so that we stood face to face. Despite the warmth of my fur coat the hungry look in his eyes gave me goosebumps, and I trembled slightly in anticipation, my very essence vibrating with desire at his touch. I was eager for him too.

The bell announced the third floor, breaking our reverie, and as though in a dream I tottered along the corridor to Ben’s place, my arm threaded through his. I could feel the strong muscles on his forearm and smell his fresh, masculine aftershave. I was under his spell, and my body hummed in recognition.

The flat was small but functional. As Ben fetched me a drink of water, I looked around the living room. It was very male, very clean, and very, very comfortable.

I yawned. “If you’re not careful I’ll be crashing right here, Ben!” I called through to the kitchen.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked as came in and passed me my drink.

“Cheers”, I smiled in response, clinking my glass with his, not quite daring to meet his eyes.

Ben took the drink from my fingers and placed it on the coffee table. This was the moment we’d been building up to all night, I could feel it. We were about to flip from flirtation into fact, and the tension was palpable. The butterflies in my stomach stretched their delicate wings and took flight, and my heart beat faster in my chest, as though trying to keep pace. Ben kissed me, and I melted. It was as though I were no longer made of skin and bone, but of molten glass, flowing and ebbing. I was liquid on fire, and I wanted more.

“Ben…” I breathed. His reply was a tongue dipped delicately into my mouth, searching, wanting, his lips increasing the pressure on mine as with the power of his kiss he drew me ever closer into him.

Grabbing my handbag for that all essential condom I habitually carried, I kicked off my heels as Ben led me to the bedroom. Pulling me to him, he knelt in front of me, and buried his face in my silk dress. I groaned as he lifted my skirt and pushed his nose to my slit, tonguing me through my lace panties. I took his hair in my fists, and as his arms reached up and encircled my waist, I moved in front of him, helping his mouth find my hot spot. It had been so long, and I was so ready to feel his breath on my skin that I couldn’t shed my underwear fast enough. “God you’re wet” Ben panted, “and you taste delicious.” His hands went round my thighs, and his fingers separated, searched and explored my petals from behind. I was speared from the front and the back, and at that I lost what remained of my inhibitions: I couldn’t help but grind my pelvis into Ben’s face, and as his tongue and his fingers buried deep inside me and I moved ever closer to him, I could only throw my head back and emit a guttural groan as I came – hard. I had lost Coucou, and I was so caught up in the glory of pure physical sensation that for a moment I even lost Elizabeth.

Once the waves had subsided and my head was mine again, I brought Ben back to his feet and took charge: Coucou was back and she wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. Pushing him backwards onto the bed I made to unbutton his shirt. Like me he was breathing heavily, and as I pinned his wrists back with my body weight, he lifted his head to explore me with one of his magic kisses. “Christ, you’re good at that”, I shuddered, breathless. He answered the compliment with another longue tonguing, taking the back of my head in his hands and planting my lips ever firmer on his. I traced my breasts over his chest, and teasingly placed a nipple in his mouth. Ben growled and tilted his head to take as much of me as he could into his mouth. This was pure heaven, but the star in me wanted yet more recognition of my beauty and allure, and the heat emanating from Ben told that he needed to let loose too. I wanted to prove so irresistible so as to give him his release – and more. So taking charge I straddled him and began to undo his shirt, nuzzling his neck as the top buttons parted under pressure.

“Stop”, Ben panted, and then more firmly: “Stop – please”. He pushed me backwards gently, so that he was sitting upright on the side of the bed, my legs wrapped around his back. “This is amazing as it is – you’re just amazing”, he whispered. I wriggled in his lap, trying to gauge a reaction, wanting him to want me more. I craved this hot, sexy man before me, and I yearned for him to lose control and to take me fully. Ben pressed his face to my chest, holding me, tracing my full curves with his mouth. I was slick with desire, my body already wet with sex sweat. Ben looked up at me, and his troubled expression stopped my heart in its tracks. “What is it?” I asked, “What’s wrong?” I could’ve kicked myself as the teenage girl still somewhere deep inside me blurted out “Don’t you fancy me?”

“More than you know”, was his gritted response.

“Then what is it? Something’s bothering you” I persisted. I was not used to not getting my own way, and flushed from our passion I certainly wasn’t ready to stop there. “Are you OK? Can I do anything? Drink of water? Do you want me to call a cab? Do you want me to go?”

“No, absolutely not”, Ben answered vehemently, “I want you to stay!”

Unhearing, I blathered on, unaccustomed to feeling insecure and anxious: “Are you too hot? And I don’t mean this in the chat-up line sense, but would it help to take some clothes off? I’m semi-naked here, and I’m burning up!”

“I know, and I’m loving it” Ben grinned, his spark reignited. He lay back on the bed again, his hands around my waist, his thumbs circling lazily against my stomach. Relieved, I pitched forward and leant my head on his chest. I could hear Ben’s heart beating like crazy, and the heat coming from him was so intense that I slid my fingers beneath the remaining buttons and set them loose, blowing cool air on his skin as I went. I could feel him tense, but this time he didn’t stop me from removing his shirt.

I kissed the hollow of Ben’s neck, and lovingly worked down between his pectorals, licking and biting softly as I went. Upon reaching his chest I stopped. I felt Ben stiffen and hold his breath.

Early morning had come, and the room was bathed in a cool light. “Is this what you were trying to hide?” I chided gently. Still straddling Ben I sat up and took his face in my hands. He met my gaze, albeit reluctantly. With his eyes upon me I dipped my head down to the two horizontal scars beneath his chest and kissed them tenderly. Ben sighed a long, languid sigh and his whole being noticeably relaxed from deep within. He stretched back so that his torso was flexed and his stomach muscles convex. I could see the tight hairs furled over his belt, and I wanted to pleasure him. Reaching down to his pelvis I hesitated. “Is this OK?” I asked.

“If it’s OK with you?” Ben counter-questioned, his eyes locked with mine, scanning me searchingly.

My reaction was to undo Ben’s belt and slowly pull his trousers and then his boxers off, kissing his abdomen all the while. He held his breath as I caressed his hip bones and then dropped to his inner thighs.

“Are you alright with me penetrating you?” I asked Ben. I wanted to make this handsome man feel as sexually celebrated as I had been.

“If I’m completely honest, it’s been so long that I’m really not sure…” Ben blushed, “You’re the first person I’ve let close to me in a very long time.”

“I’m honoured”, I smiled. And I meant it: I was bowled over by Ben, and I was touched that he clearly felt the same as me. It might sound weird, but although I work in the erotic arts, I rarely really fancy people: maybe it’s the fame, maybe it’s because I’m always working, but it takes a rare person to get me interested enough to pursue a few dates, let alone get sexually involved. So I wanted Ben more than I’d wanted anyone in years. And I wanted him to want me too.

So flipping into seduction mode I looked up at my new lover from under my exaggerated lashes and drew my mouth along his pubic area. Ben groaned, and tensed as I lowered my tongue to his pussy. His clit was significantly larger than mine – from all the male hormones I guessed – and I hoped this meant he was extra responsive. I licked carefully as I didn’t want to hurt him, trying to gauge his sensitivity.

“God that feels so good”, Ben moaned. I smiled inwardly: no problems there, then! I took his hardened clit into my mouth and sucked it like a dick. This sensation at least I could give him, and it seemed like he enjoyed it – below me I could see his toes curl. I licked Ben vertically, tracing the folds of his labia, and tentatively traced my tongue to his hot opening. He was wet, and I knew he wanted me – I felt myself become moist in response. “You’re gorgeous, Ben!” I exhaled into his depths.

“I think I might be OK with –” Ben gasped, too turned-on to finish. I quickly slipped a finger inside him, gently, insistently. As he bucked against me I slid another finger in, and then a third. With my mouth on his clit I licked a finger from my other hand and pressed it against his dark opening. I paused, waiting to see if Ben was happy with this. Like most men, of course he was – I heard a positive growl in response, and felt him press his arse hard against me. I needed no more encouragement, and lubricating my finger once again I teased his body’s coy resistance until it offered itself up to me. Suddenly I was able to slide my finger in, and at that moment Ben was full of me. With my mouth on his clit too, it was only moments until I had him writhing in my hands, impaling himself on my fingers. It had clearly been as long for him as it had been for me: soon I could feel his pussy tense around my fingers, and as if from far away I heard and felt a sonorous rumble…

”Uhhh!” Ben roared.

“Hooo!” I breathed on his clit, as a warm fountain of wetness hit me on the chin. Not only had Ben come, but he’d actually squirted!

“Hangover from the old days”, Ben panted. “Sorry!”

“No need to apologise”, I blew back. I’d been so focussed on Ben’s pleasure that I’d hardly taken a full breath myself, and suddenly I was desperate for oxygen. I collapsed on top of him, feeling our hearts beat hard in unison, our fresh sweat sweet and slick on our chests, my head nestled in the safe warm space between his jaw and his shoulder as I shielded my eyes from the daylight.

“Wow, that was more than worth waiting for!” I heard my lover say. I could hear the true contentment in these words and feel the happiness fit to bursting from his chest beneath me. I knew he could hear the smile in my voice as I enthusiastically agreed: “I needed that too!”

We sat up so that we could see one another more clearly, our fingers embracing, our faces beaming with a joy so genuine that I knew that our night together had been unexpectedly special for both of us.

“You’re really something else, you know that?” Ben murmured as his mouth tenderly nuzzled the sensitive spot below my ear.

My whole body quivered in response “You’re really something else too”, I said.

From the depths of my handbag I heard a text come through on my phone. I smiled as I turned to Ben. My sister would have to wait…

Posted in Cliterati Magazine, Erotica, Kinky Erotica, Queer Erotica, Straight Erotica and tagged as , , , , , , , , , , ,

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