Friday, June 27, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Was scrolling through my newsfeed the other day and came across this utterly adorable photo of three leather pups taken by Mark Flowers. I asked if I could use it on my website and he said yes! There will soon be a new page up at my website talking about the different aspects of puppy role playing, using this photo as a header:
So many people are confused or misinformed about this pastime/identity that I'd like to have a somewhat comprehensive definition or at least description of it on my main website, since I do feature it in my books and am a fan of it in real life.
|Photo by Mark Flowers|
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Friday, June 20, 2014
Those who have read my books, Beyond the Edge and The Cross and The Trinity, know that they contain a character who has no issue reconciling his private life with his spiritual life. Sebastian is gay, heavily into domination and submission, and a member of the Chancel Choir at his local United Church.
Initially, one of the other characters - Tate - finds himself wondering how this can be. He asks the Dom he has spent the weekend with for his advice:
“Can I ask you something?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Anything.”
“Do you think what we do is normal?”
He looked me in the eyes with a frankness that was startling. “Define normal.”
“Well, y'know. Like everyone else.”
“How do you know what everyone else does behind closed doors?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Tate, I don't. I have no idea if what we do is normal and I don't really care. It's consensual, it's ultimately trust based and designed for the pleasure and fulfillment of all parties. We're safe, we're honest with each other, and there are limits in place.” He looked at me, concerned. “You've never expressed any issues with what we do here before. What's going on?”
“Nothing. I don't really have any issues with it. I just...I’ve been to church with Sebastian a few times now. It felt kind of weird being there and...remembering everything we'd done. I mean, I can’t help thinking about what we do here, when I’m there, watching him. It seems wrong.”
“What we do here, or thinking about it in church?”
“Well...both, kinda. I don’t really think what we do is wrong. But when I’m in church, I guess I sort of wonder if it is or it isn’t. It’s hard to explain.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “What would Jesus think if he saw what we did?”
I breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Exactly.”
“How do you know Jesus wasn't a kinky freak?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How do you know he wasn't into self flagellation? A lot of the monks have done it.”
“Oh.” I thought about it. There was a larger question here. “Do you believe in God?” I asked finally.
He put his chin in his hand and looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “Not the way a lot of other people do. I don't think of God as this old man looking down at us from Heaven. I have my own idea of what God is.”
“Would you care to enlighten me?” I asked, grinning.
“Oh Tate. I enlightened you about four hours ago.” He winked.
“What, intense physical pleasure? You think that's what God is?”
He looked shocked. “Tate, if all you experienced up there was physical pleasure, I'm not doing my job properly. Isn't it a bit more than that?”
I thought back to how I'd felt when I'd finally come at their hands, and suddenly I understood what he was saying. It had been a transcendent, glorious, mind/body experience. Something that religious people speak of but few probably really understand or attain.
“Are you saying that what we do up there together is a religious experience?”
He grinned. “Well, not always. But when everything works well and I can get a sub to let go and just experience to the fullest capacity, it becomes more than just something physical.” He steepled his fingers, gazing at me sincerely. “The sacred and profane are closer to each other than you may think. They're both inside of us. By addressing the one we can achieve the other. It's not so big a stretch. And when one thinks of the masochistic things religious zealots have done in the past to experience spiritual awakening, it starts to make some sense.” He leaned back, assessing me. “And now I'd like to ask you a question.”
“Okay,” I said, seeing the look on his face that I'd seen the other night, after the three of us had gone to bed together.
“I'd like to take you out to dinner this week.”
“Uh. Just me?” He nodded.
“Just you. I have an idea that I want to explore with you. Something I've been thinking about for quite some time.”
“Not as Dom and sub right? I mean, as equals?”
“Yes, absolutely. Equals. You are my equal in every way, Tate.”
- Beyond the Edge, Chapter Nineteen
I added the religious facet to Sebastian's character, and incorporated the above scene, in order to address the fact that many people who engage in alternative sexual practices or have a personality identification (gay, transgender, bisexual or other) that deviates from the so-called norm, often feel like outsiders from mainstream religious organizations.
Which isn't suprising. Many are hostile to any form of organized religion because they have been witness to the worst behaviour of these groups.
It took me a long time to find a church in my city that was non-dogmatic, truly inclusive and liberal enough for me to feel comfortable. Although I identify primarily as straight, am married with two children, and outwardly conform to the "norms" of society, I believe so strongly in true inclusivity that I searched far and wide for a such an open-minded congregation.
Today, on facebook, my friend Hardy Haberman linked to an article he wrote for Leatherati, and I'd like to share it with you.
In this article, he examines some of the issues that members of the Leather community have with organized religion, specifically Christianity, and explains his own take on the matter.
I hope people take away from this article the idea that being involved in BDSM or any activity or identity outside the "norm" should not preclude a person from engaging spiritually with a larger community.
You may have to search a little harder for a community that speaks to you and your beliefs, but the rewards can be worth it.
You may have to search a little harder for a community that speaks to you and your beliefs, but the rewards can be worth it.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Monday, June 16, 2014
This photo appeared in my Facebook newsfeed today and I think I had a small spontaneous orgasm.
I mean, the leather kilt, the white button up, the vest, the jacket, the beard, the smile, the red fucking sporran...excuse me for one second...
Okay, I'm back :)
This is Mr. Midwest Leather 2013, Cody Troy, who has just been appointed to the judging panel for MWL2015. I am seriously considering writing another erotic series of novels about a Scottish Leatherman just so Cody can be on the cover in this outfit.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Rachael Fraser buys cheap abandoned storage lockers in order to stock her small thrift store. At an auction one hot afternoon she spies a beautiful red haired woman on the arm of an arrogant stranger - an impatient man who purchases an expensive locker in the face of his girlfriend's protests. Later that week, when sorting through her purchases, Rachael encounters the woman again. Lydia has been abandoned and left to unload a big locker on her own. Rachael offers her assistance and the next thing you know, close quarters and a united purpose bring these women together in a steamy encounter.
When is this damn auction going to start?
The sun blazed down on the group of us. There were only nine people here today, so I wasn't too worried about my chances. I'd seen something I wanted and was ready to bid.
Luckily my baseball cap and sunglasses protected me from the direct sun. Some of the others weren't so fortunate. One old man kept mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, shielding his eyes from the sun's rays.
I looked around at the others and observed the usual suspects – mostly men looking for a deal. I recognized one or two of them because I'd seen them at other auctions. They ignored me, which was just as well.
The sound of two people arguing suddenly rose on the fetid air, and I turned just in time to see a young man and woman round the corner of the building and come into view. He was relatively unremarkable in his cargo pants and t-shirt. But she...
I stood up straighter, out of instinct or something else. I watched closely as she walked, her red dress swirling about her shapely thighs, her silver pumps clicking against the pavement. She held a ridiculous yellow sunhat on her head with her hand, to keep it from blowing off in the warm breeze, and she spoke with great annoyance to the young man who looked harried and uninterested.
I heard him tell her to shut up, that he would buy whatever he thought looked good.
Expecting her to become even angrier and start yelling at him, I was surprised when she became quiet and subdued at his side. Her entire body looked defeated as she slumped against the wall near where he'd found a spot to stand. She took off her hat and removed her sunglasses, glancing about her as if wondering what in the world she was doing here. Her strawberry blond hair held back in a loose ponytail, I could see the hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, whether to wipe away tears or sweat I didn't know. Perhaps it was simply a sign of fatigue.
Suddenly she looked my way. Her eyes seemed to linger, although she couldn't see mine behind my dark glasses. I watched her gaze glide over me and I wondered what she thought. Did she see a slim butch dyke in skinny jeans, doc martens and a white t-shirt? Or did she see me, Rachel Fraser, pretty boy-like brunette with killer legs, small chest, and full lips. I mean, did she see a lesbian or did she see a person, someone who she might like to know? I wasn't sure.
But when she smiled I returned it and nodded my head slightly in greeting. I didn't know who she was but she was the sexiest, most interesting thing I'd encountered in a long, long time.
The auction started.
Suddenly I couldn't pay her the attention she deserved because I had to try to get the storage locker I wanted for a decent price. I had a thrift store to stock and I needed new stuff (new old stuff – or old new stuff – whatever).
Luckily, not many others had seen what I'd seen in locker A25 when they'd let us look briefly at the contents and I was able to get it for less than I'd anticipated. Perhaps the others were after larger fare. A small player in this game, I liked it that way.
I hung around because I had to wait to pay for my locker anyway, and I wanted to keep an eye on Red Dress and her trashy boyfriend/husband/meal-ticket. But I moved back from the front of the crowd so I could watch unobserved.
Trashy Boyfriend was bidding on a locker now and Red Dress looked pissed. She said something to him as he kept bidding higher, fighting with some other guy for the prize, Locker C74.
Red Dress became quiet again went back to looking defeated. I wondered why she didn't just leave? Let the idiot deal with his locker, unless she was the one with the money? I hoped that wasn't the case.
Trashy Boyfriend got his Prize for $2,300. Red Dress nodded, shrugged and glanced at me with what looked like desperation.
I took off my sunglasses. As her eyes met mine I felt a flush of heat and held her gaze.
Then Trashy Boyfriend moved between us and started explaining why he'd just spent so much money on something she apparently didn't want. Or didn't want that badly.
My mind spun. She was so hot, but what was she doing with that loser? Was she bi, or a closeted lesbian? The way she'd looked at me, like she was trying to send me a secret message. Most straight women treated me with disdain or completely ignored me. They didn't know how to deal with my androgynous appearance and no doubt they knew right away I was gay, and didn't know how to deal with that either.
Unfortunately, only Trashy Boyfriend showed up to pay for their locker. I took the opportunity to “unintentionally” step on his sneaker-clad foot with my heavy boot, earning me a muffled curse and an evil look.
I grinned as I got back in my truck and headed home. The heat was killer and I would come back the next day to sort through my winnings. I deliberately forgot about Red Dress and just hoped she would unload Trashy Boyfriend by week's end.
The next day proved just as hot and the storage area was not air-conditioned. I dreaded spending a couple of hours sorting and unloading my locker but had no choice.
Leaving Mark in charge of the store I headed out. I'd put on a pair of cut off jean shorts and a white tank top to stay as cool as possible, and I grabbed one of my favorite baseball caps on the way to the truck. Of course my Docs were standard wear, no matter how hot.
"I'll be back after lunch," I said to Mark with a wave.
Mark had proved a reliable employee and I was happy to have him. Unlike some other guys that had come and gone at the store, Mark did not challenge my leadership. He let me call the shots, he did as he was told and we got along great. It was my store after all.
As I drove, listening to Kings of Leon on the MP3 player with the truck’s window rolled down, I couldn't help my thoughts returning to Red Dress. She'd been so beautiful, and real, her emotions raw and visible to anyone but especially to me, because I’d watched her so closely.
It had been a long time since another woman had made such an impression on me. I was so busy with the store I didn't have time to go out to the dance clubs. I had a few friends in the city, and I'd had a girlfriend up until about eight months ago. But she didn't like how much time the store was costing me and promptly dumped me, even though she'd been one of the people encouraging me to follow my dream.
At the storage facility, I put on my canvas gloves and went right to my unit, unlocking the small padlock I’d attached after I’d paid for it. The door made a satisfying rattle as I rolled it up.
After quickly glancing through most of the items contained in the small locker, I tallied up their value in my head.
Three wooden chairs - about $20/piece
IKEA armchair - $50
Three pairs of Rollerblades - $15/pair
Antique mirror with gold, filigreed frame - $75
Assorted tableware, bedding and decorative items - $150
Clothing - $60
Two bikes - $30 each
Two hockey sticks - $10/each
Jewelry - $100
Not too bad for the price I’d paid. Now I just had to open the truck bed and haul stuff out to the lot.
I grabbed a few of the smaller items and made my way down the narrow hallway. As I got closer to the parking lot I heard a woman's angry voice and, turning a corner, saw none other than Red Dress standing in the open doorway of another storage locker, speaking into her cell phone. No longer wearing the red dress, she was clothed in black bike shorts, white Keds, and a cap-sleaved blouse with blue flowers on it.
"So, what, you're not coming? I'm here at the locker." She paused, listening. "What the hell am I supposed to do with it all?"
I stood still, not sure whether to just walk past her or wait and see if she needed any help.
"Yeah? Well you can just go fuck yourself," She said quietly and let her arm drop, pressing the button to disconnect. She looked around, surprised to see me standing nearby.
"Oh," she cleared her throat and blushed. "Sorry."
I shook my head, ignoring her apology. "Do you need some help with your locker?"
Her eyes widened as she recognized me from the auction. I saw her gaze scan me quickly as a smile appeared on her pretty face.
"Yeah. My boyfriend – make that ex-boyfriend – just abandoned me for a poker game. He's the one who wanted this locker in the first place and now he won't help me unload it." She made a fist as if she wanted to punch something. "I've had it, we’re done. I mean, who does he think he is?"
"He did seem a little arrogant at the auction." I took off my right glove and held out my hand. "Hi, I'm Rachael."
"Lydia," she smiled, shaking my hand.
Our eyes met as I felt something pass between us. Her skin felt very soft and I noticed she had painted her nails a bright blue color.
"I like your nails," I said.
"Thanks. I don't know why I bothered, they’re just gonna get wrecked hauling this stuff around. Are you sure you don't mind helping me out for a little while?"
"Let me put these in my truck. It's really no problem."
As I walked to the parking lot my heart beat faster. Slow down, girl, I told myself, she's just glad to get some help with all that shit.
After I tossed the items I held into the truck, I took off my gloves and baseball cap and glanced quickly into the side mirror to make sure I didn't have dirt on my face. I shook out my short bob, tousling it to get rid of any hat head.
When I got back to Lydia’s locker I saw that she had pulled a couple of things out into the hallway – a stained twin mattress and two full garbage bags.
"Some of this stuff is absolute crap. I told him not to buy it."
“What's in the bags?"
"Old, horrible-looking bedding,” she said, “It can be tossed."
I nodded. "Here, let me have a look. There must be something worthwhile,” I said, putting my gloves back on.
I moved past her into the locker, my eyes scanning quickly over several things, all the while conscious of her nearness and the smell of her hair. My eyes locked on a small brown wood box lodged between two beat-up cardboard containers.
"Hmmm," I said, pulling it out. "What's in here?"
As I opened the lid I felt her come closer. She stood right behind me now, peering over my shoulder.
"Jewelry?" she asked with hope in her voice.
"Bingo," I replied, rifling a gloved finger through the items in the box. I lifted out a thick bracelet. "This is real gold. There are some other nice things in here."
"Awesome!" she said.
I turned to smile at her and was surprised how close her face was to mine. I wanted to kiss her but I held back because I wasn't sure if she would like that. Our eyes held for a few moments.
"At least jewelry's easy to transport," I said.
"Let's see if there's anything else," she said, taking the box from me.
I opened the two cardboard containers in front of me. "Just clothes. Do you have a thrift store?"
She shook her head. "No. We just list stuff on Ebay. Do you?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, you can have anything you want from here, as long as I can take the small, easy to ship stuff."
"Thanks. I can probably sell that mattress and the bedding. You'd be surprised what people will buy."
Glancing toward the back of the unit I noticed something interesting.
"Hey, Lydia, check this out." I pushed between the piles of old furniture and ratty boxes toward the back corner of the unit. Lydia followed.
"What is that?" she asked as I pulled some items away from an interesting piece of furniture made of wood and wrought iron.
"I think it's one of those antique sewing tables. It’d get a good price on Ebay. People are always looking for these."
She came up beside me. There wasn't alot of room. We were squished close together and she didn't seem to mind. I tried to stay calm but my mouth went a little dry with excitement.
"But how would I ship it? You might as well have it for your store."
I looked at her. We were so close.
"I can't take that. It's the most valuable thing in here."
Our eyes held for what seemed a very long moment.
"Is it?" she said.
My heart sped up as she kissed me softly and slowly on the lips.
I responded instinctively, surprised and pleased. But she pulled back.
"I'm sorry." She appeared lost and confused. "I shouldn't assume that you wanted that."
I didn't say anything. Taking off my glove I moved my hand up to her head and brought her face to mine again, kissing her slowly and deliberately, making sure there was no mistake. I definitely wanted it.
Her lips felt so soft and she tasted like peppermint. I let my hand slide from her head down her back and rested it on her hip, pulling her gently against me. I wanted to touch her bottom but I didn't dare go that far. Not yet. This was too perfect and I didn't want to wreck it.
The kiss became deeper and more passionate. The smell of dust and mildew from the dirty storage locker only served to ignite my lust. She seemed even more pretty and delicate and clean in this environment.
I leaned against the boxes and pulled her tightly against me. She put an arm out to stop herself from falling and giggled against my lips. I felt a throb and rush of moisture below.
"Whoops," I said, holding her steady. We stared at each other, breathing hard, our eyes conveying what we both wanted.
But not here.
"Want to go to my store? There's a room in the back,” I said, desire obvious in the huskiness of my voice.
We quickly hauled the stuff back into the locker and Lydia attached a padlock. I locked up mine as well. Hell if we were gonna worry about getting our loot tonight. The auctioneer had told us we had a week to clear the stuff out.
I explained where the store was located and we drove separately, but she said she'd follow me in her car. No words were spoken about what we'd do once we got there.
My heart beat fast in my chest as I drove to the familiar locale. I didn't know whether this would be a one-time thing or the beginning of something else, but at the moment I didn't care. All I could think about was her smell and her curves and her sweet little giggle, and I wondered what she looked like without any clothes. I had to block that thought or I would crash my truck.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her little red Mazda behind me. A smile emerged on my face as I remembered her kissing me in the locker. As submissive as she'd been with her boyfriend at the auction, she knew how to handle herself around girls. I liked that.
I pulled into the lot of the mini-mall and parked in my spot. My legs felt a little wobbly when I stepped out of the cab, the wooden box of jewelry from Lydia’s locker in my hand. I hadn't felt this much desire for anybody in a very long time.
Mark was reading a novel behind the cash desk. He looked up when he heard the door chimes.
"Hi Mark. Is there anybody in here right now?”
“Nope. It’s been pretty slow.”
“You can have the afternoon off if you want. With pay."
He looked at me like I had two heads. "Really? Why?"
I grinned sheepishly. "Um, I have some important business to attend to."
As if on cue, the door chimes rang again as Lydia entered the store.
Mark and I looked at her.
“I love the name of your store,” she said.
I turned back to Mark, giving him a private message with my eyes. Namely, Don't you dare screw this up for me...
"Mark, this is Lydia. Lydia, Mark."
"Hi," Lydia said politely, smiling at Mark and then gazing around the small, well-stocked store.
"Mark’s just leaving," I said.
"Yeah, I'm just leaving," Mark echoed, raising his eyebrows at me and lifting the corner of his mouth in a subtle smile. "Thanks for giving me the whole, long afternoon off, boss," he said meaningfully.
Mark got his stuff and left, but not without giving me a hidden thumbs up and another gesture indicating he thought Lydia was as hot as I did.
"See you tomorrow," he said as he left. He motioned holding a phone to his ear and then he was out the door. I locked it behind him and turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED.
“Won’t your customers be disappointed?” Lydia asked.
“Nah, It’s pretty slow on Mondays. Anyway I don’t give a goddamn about my customers right now, which is not something I say very often.” I held up the jewelry box. "Let's have a closer look at what's in here," I said, leading the way to my office in the back.
I flipped the switch, which turned on an antique Tiffany lamp in the corner. I had never been so glad that I'd organized my small office with a view to comfort and coziness. The benefit of being in the thrift store business was the ability to select the best items for myself. I had furnished the space with a tufted leather sofa, a gorgeous black, red, and gold rug, a roll-top desk and a couple of small armchairs – all antiques that would have fetched a pretty penny but that I simply couldn't bear to part with.
I closed the door behind us.
Lydia reclined on the sofa and opened the jewelry box. I sat down close beside her and we began to go through it.
I found a very pretty bracelet that was inlaid with blue and orange stone and held it up. "This would look good on you. It goes with your nails."
She glanced at me through the fall of her red hair and smiled, placing the bracelet around her slender wrist. "It's beautiful. I don't even want to list it."
"Oh, look at this!" she lifted out a choker made of black leather with a shiny pendant in the shape of an Irish cross. "You put it on."
"Okay." I placed it around my neck and fumbled with the clasp at the back.
Lydia moved closer.
"Here," she said as her hands moved behind my neck to help me.
I froze, letting my own hands give way to hers, and inhaled her intoxicating scent. My right hand drifted down to her hip as I rested my forehead against her shoulder, taking a deep breath and feeling a fog of desire cloud my brain.
As soon as she fastened the choker I lifted my head and gave her an urgent look.
"Tell me right now, are you fucking with me?" I said.
Her eyes widened. "What? No!"
“You’re pissed off at your boyfriend. Maybe I’m just a distraction.” My voice conveyed a vulnerability I didn’t want to acknowledge.
She stared honestly into my eyes. “You are a distraction, Rachael, I won’t deny that. I’ve been meaning to dump the guy for months, it’s just that we have some mutual investments. But I don’t care anymore. I’ll take a material loss on this one.” She smiled. “And you’re beautiful, and kind, and I really want to touch you all over.”
I couldn't hold back any longer. I took her chin and guided her mouth to mine, kissing her hard, letting her know how much I wanted her. She opened her sweet lips willingly, taking my desperate tongue into her soft mouth. I felt a surge of desire inside me as my hand slid, seemingly of its own volition, under the waistband of her shorts to find the smooth skin of her behind.
She moaned into my mouth, pressing her body against me. Finding my breast she ghosted her fingers over my peaked nipple. I gasped, kissing her harder, and squeezed her bottom. She squealed, giggled, then pushed me backwards onto the couch.
"Easy," I murmured, but inwardly I thrilled to her aggressiveness. She reminded me of a kitten or a puppy – so sweet and soft and gentle one minute and a ball of excited enthusiasm the next. I loved it.
"You look like a hot boy," she said then, her breathing heavy, as she looked down. "I like these little tits." She slipped her hand under my tank top to my naked breast.
I let her fondle me for a moment, then sat up, removing my tank top. I watched eagerly as she unbuttoned her blouse. She was going too fast and couldn't manage the last button, so I popped it for her and she stripped the shirt off.
"Fuck," I said, staring at her big breasts in the beautiful blue lace bra. "You're so pretty..."
She unfastened the hooks and soon her breasts swayed free before me. I cupped one and held its weight in my hand.
"So pretty,” I repeated, enthralled.
"So are you," she said, leaning over as her red hair draped around me in a feathery fall of softness.
Her fingers found the fly of my cut off shorts. She unzipped them and stroked the short brown hair there. "Oh, sexy...forget your underwear today?"
I shoved the damn shorts down my legs, so eager to be free of any hindrance to our lovemaking. I pushed them off over my boots and started to pull down hers.
"Wait," she said, getting up off the couch and looking at me as she took the rest of her clothes off. "Don't move. You look so hot on that couch with your boots still on."
"You don't look bad yourself," I said breathily as she slipped off her white lace panties and held them out to me.
"Want these?" Her saucy look and question made me smile. I nodded.
She tossed them to me. I caught them and held them to my nose, smelling her arousal clearly. I closed my eyes.
"Fuck," I said again, biting my lip. Then I dropped them on the floor. "Come here."
She giggled, that hot little sound that drove me mad with desire. I gripped her wrist when she came nearer and pulled her down on top of me. Holding her still, I kissed her cheek and stroked my hand down her back, sliding my fingers between the crack of her ass.
"Lydia, oh Lydia, My darling Lydia. Lydia, the ta-ttooed lady," I sang softly.
She gasped and giggled again, grinding her pussy against my leg. "I don't have a tattoo."
"Doesn't matter," I said, finding her lips again and kissing her. I moved my other hand underneath her until I found the wet port I was looking for. I listened to her sudden intake of breath as I rubbed my fingers over her.
At the same time I felt her hand on me, stroking slowly and deliberately.
We fingered each other for what seemed like forever, neither of us wanting to rush, both of us enjoying the intimacy and pleasure of it. Soft sounds of wet flesh and spontaneous vocalizations surrounded us.
We worked in concert, one of us going deeper and harder, the other mirroring it, until we writhed together in mutual desperation. Then we'd back off and tease each other with lighter strokes and vague caresses.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed her hand away and rolled her over, a tricky maneuver on the narrow couch. She smiled up at me, her face flushed and hair disheveled.
"I'm going to make you come," I said, grinning with excitement and purpose.
"Awesome," she said, making me laugh at her unabashed enjoyment of me.
"Just you wait," I joked, stroking the soft hair on her pussy and enjoying the way the lamplight glinted off her juices. I bent down, engulfing her nipple with my mouth and teasing with my tongue. At the same time I slid three fingers deep inside her, searching for what I knew was there.
In a moment I found it.
She arched up with a cry, her breaths panting.
"Good girl," I whispered, rubbing the spot quickly and firmly as I continued to suck her breast.
She moaned louder, a cry almost of pain but I knew it was not. I could feel her body stretched like a quivering wire as I skillfully and mercilessly brought her to the point of no return.
At the last minute I rose up from her breast and watched her face as she came. Her forehead creased, her mouth opened in an "O" of pure pleasure, she rocked with release as I brought her to the edge and off it, then eased her back down.
"Oh, Rachael," was all she said, her body luscious and beautiful on the leather couch beneath me. She opened her eyes and moved as if to get up but I wasn't having it.
I sat above her and fingered myself to orgasm. It wasn't hard – I was so turned on and had been for a while. I watched her out of half-closed eyes as I came with a moan, shaking with the tremors of my lust.
Afterwards, we lay together, kissing and nuzzling each other in the warmth of our exertions. I still had my boots on, a point which Lydia found highly amusing.
I noticed the open box of jewelry still on the couch beside us. Reaching a hand in, I scooped up a haphazard collection of trinkets and dropped them casually over Lydia's breasts and abdomen. Some fell off and onto the couch, but most stayed perched upon her flushed skin, glinting and shining in the lamplight.
"Another man's trash..." I said softly.
"...is another man's treasure," she finished for me.
"Or woman's," I corrected, bending to grab a pearl necklace with my teeth.
She took the other end and placed it over my head, so that it draped around my neck.
Her laughter bubbled up around me as I smiled, wearing my adornment proudly.