Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Hearts and Flowers

A certain lady sexologist of whom we're fans has a nightly routine in which she and her lover exchange sweet, explicit "nothings." Signora V and  I recently had just such an exchange. Is it sweet? Is it nothing? I'll leave it to readers to judge.

My special request

Love, this is a darker side of my personality that has not been as yet revealed to you though I know you suspect me. As a one-off and never to be repeated scenario I request the following.

To be driven to a dark park at night when I am tired and ready for bed and be forced out of the car and thrown against the ground, (on a very warm night, mind), have my jeans and panties pulled down to my knees and my top pulled up over my breasts and have clamps fixed tightly onto my nipples so that they swell. Then with one hand on my back holding me down firmly I want you to force me, however tired I am at the moment, to let you take me from behind in my special hole. I will resist and finally acquiesce because you are so obviously stronger than me. I may be resentful at the time and the burning feeling that I will experience in my butt will stay with me for the hours to follow.  I will afterwards feel a kind of liberation by being taken in the dark outdoors against my will.

This is the second night I’ve written this request. What may I assume?


I've opened my special file of pictures of you. As I page through them, I frame my response.

What may you assume?
Assume this.

I pick you up. I've insisted that you not wear jeans, but a summer skirt or dress. When you get in the car, I question you.

"Are your panties on?"
"I told you not to. I told you that you to leave them home and come down naked under your dress. You didn't listen, did you?"
"Fine. Remove them now and hand them to me."

You pout like a teenager while you protest your adult modesty. I won't hear it. I raise my voice. I have to talk over you. I tell you I'll put you out on the street that very moment if you don't comply. As we come to the light I reach across you and pinch your left breast. At least you've come braless, but my instructions were quite specific and I am still angry about the panties. 

You stop chattering and sheepishly slide off and hand me the panties. I tell you to lift your dress. You are not to sit on it. It's a hot night and your clammy bottom sticks to the leather seat. As you think about what I'm going to say or do next you become very wet. Your vulva slides against the seat. When I stop in traffic again, you lurch forward. You worry that your lack of traction will hurl you against the glove compartment but you don't dare say anything. You reach for my cock and press into my groin. I swat your hand away.

"Not now."

We drive on to a secluded spot near the reservoir. It's a hot night. Your juices and sweat have made your ass and thighs slick everywhere. The entire seat is slippery with you.  I turn the motor off. I unzip my fly.

"Suck," I order.

You look around anxiously.

"What if we're seen?" you ask.

"Don't look around. Suck," I repeat, "Do a good job. If you don't you'll regret it."

Your head begins to slowly descend on my cock. I take your hair and force you all the way down, not releasing until I hear a slight gag from your throat. Your saliva drips down and coats my member. It's time.

"Give me the nipple clamps and get out," I order.

You open the door slowly. I come around and extend my hand, a gentlemanly gesture, but I pull you roughly to your feet. I kiss you hard on the mouth. You taste the tobacco and whiskey I had earlier. You reach for my cock, but I swat your hand away again. I force you to your knees and fasten the clamps beneath your dress. You take me deep in your mouth until my cock drools with your saliva. I pull you up roughly and turn you and lift your leg against the runner of the open passenger door. I flip your skirt up. A car goes by and slows a bit. Your eyes dart in terror at the flash of headlights. But the driver does not see your naked thighs, my busy hand or the urgency of my cock pressed against your puckered special hole. I add a little of my own saliva to the angry purple bulb. I grab your cunt which you have shaved bare just this day, in anticipation of this night. Two fingers plunge in immediately up to the second knuckle. I push against you while my fingers work. I use my grip to force you back. It's slow going. You’re lucky I'm not angrier, because as I push in, I could easily impale you with one thrust and you would feel it for more than a couple hours or days.

"More lubrication," you beg but you don't get any. That was your job earlier. Now your submission is all the lubrication I need. My grip on your cunt is a vice. You become light headed as I push you all the way back on me. Gradually your special hole accepts its methodical assault. You're pinned against the door frame. Your hands are splayed atop the car's roof like a perp bent against a police car. My hand is using your weeping cunt like a dripping oar. My cock is using your tight ass like a cunt.

"You are my cunt, aren't you?" I hiss in your ear. All you can feel is my cock as it ravages. All you can manage is a moan through tear-clenched eyes.

"Tell me you're my cunt or I'll pull out and start over." For emphasis, I tug the chain affixed to your nipples.

"I'm your cunt. I'm your whore," you whine, your voice rising in desperation. Another car goes by but does not slow. My pumping inside you has grown rhythmic. There is a precise moment when you accept it. When you accept everything. This is that moment. You take it and all the pain cartwheels into pleasure. You feel my cock swell and throb inside you.

For the first time that you've known me, you do feel like a whore. You tighten around me, milking me, praying for quick release. You're ashamed of your request and you feel I've taken advantage of your need, your vulnerability. My fingers pressed deep against your pubis mash and twirl. You feel like crying, but instead you come in searing bursts of released emotions, thrusting your bottom back angrily against me. My balls slap against your swollen lips and mash into your cunt. You feel my first hot spurts and your own contractions deep inside where you’ve never felt me before. I press against you shuddering with my own release.

My semen has left your special hole coated and slick. I’m so tempted to linger and play, but some animal noise you hear in the dark makes you twist suddenly in my arms. Still half hard I slither out with a pop. Your eyes question mine. My eyes look down at my open zipper. You gently fold my cock back into my pants and zip my fly for me. I kiss you hard while you do me this service. I open the passenger door wider and bid you to re-enter, another parody of courtliness. When I get in, you slip off the nipple clamps and replace them in your purse. You ask for your panties back. I ignore you and turn on the radio. Nina Simone wails out to the universe, "Lover man, where have you gone?" We drive in sullen silence. You want to convince yourself that you didn't ask for this. That this was sordid and cruel and not worthy of a lady of your age and station. Even you don't believe it. The leather seat is slick under you again.

When I drop you at the lobby entrance you ask for the panties again, frantic eyes darting at the doorman who approaches the car.

"No," I reply pleasantly. "I own them now, as I owned you earlier."

"Did you have a pleasant evening, Signore Riccardo?" the doorman asks as he holds the car door for you.

"The very best," I reply.

You stagger to your feet. Your eyes burn with shame, hotter than the red smart down there in your tight little bum. You worry that the nosy porter will smell the sex on you as you pass him. You are naked before him, but for the merest whisper of your sundress. The elevator door can’t open too soon. My full hand was nearly inside you when you came all over it. You remember that. All our days and nights of gentle, unhurried lovemaking pale in comparison to this. You’ll remember that too. You walk gingerly to your apartment door and insert the key. You are overwhelmed by what happened and your response to it.

We've been together so long. What did you expect? Hearts and flowers?


  1. Ricci
    I am flattered you posted this edgy dialogue and kept faithfully to the text (from my side of this exchange) that I originally wrote. The big question is truly as you ask? 'Is it sweet? Is it nothing?' and most likely the answer is as you write, 'We've been together so long. What did you expect? Hearts and flowers?'

  2. Ah Vi,
    The things we do for love.

  3. But we never DID this.............your request is unfulfilled!Should we re-visit this scenario in the fullness of time?-:)

  4. As I recall, we came close a couple of times, but yes, as the lady wishes. ;-)