American Concubine – steamy S&M with a younger man
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Excerpt from American Concubine – Story 1 from FALLEN ANGELS
They finished eating.
‘Come here,’ he commanded. ‘Come, come.’
He tapped his knees and she obeyed. She stood, finished her wine and sat back in his arms. He caressed her breasts. They were on fire, stinging as if from a bee sting. She squirmed and wriggled. He slid his finger into her mouth. She sucked it and he opened the lips of her vagina, the warm pad of his fingertip feeling for her clitoris which he nursed until her head dropped back, her eyes pressed shut and she sighed like someone who had reached the end of a journey.
She stretched her legs over his thighs and the sudden thought that this is where she sat with Paul and the children on summer mornings flashed through her mind like a memory of another time. Without memory, there is no past. Without a past, there is no future. She arched her back and fought for breath as the tip of his finger worked its magic, a part of her that had been concealed in darkness revealed in brilliant light. The feeling became ecstatic, almost unbearable. She could feel her own juices run down her thighs. He steadied her as she rocked on the bridge of his knees. The contractions drew closer like waves rolling up the beach and, at that moment, that exact moment, he slowed, he ceased, and he left her floating across the abyss.
‘Don’t stop. Don’t stop…’
He turned her in his arms and kissed her. She was trembling. Shaking. Her pulse raced. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and thought she was having a heart attack. For ten of the fifteen years she had been married she had been asleep and now she was awake.
‘Fuck me,’ she said and he smiled.
‘All in good time.’
They stood. She was unsteady, as if the floor were the deck of a ship at sea. Just as he had slapped her backside when they left the bedroom, he slapped her again, a little harder this time, and it made her clitoris glow brighter.
‘Ouch,’ she cried.
‘That wasn’t hard.’
‘It hurt.’
‘Did it hurt, or did it sting?’
‘Both.’
‘Let me ask you something, Michelle: have you ever laughed so much it hurt?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Pain and pleasure go together, sometimes, the greater the pain the more the pleasure.’
He kissed his fingers and touched her bottom. Her whole body felt hot, electric, possessed. They went back to the bedroom. Moonlight lit the walls. She climbed into the mussed sheets and he rolled her on to her stomach. He massaged her shoulders, her back, her thighs. He pushed his tongue into her warm cleft, she was sopping, wet as a young girl, and transferred her fluids to the dark flashing eye of her anus. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, in and out, relaxing the muscles, and she was too…too in the moment to remember that she had never let Paul or anyone do this to her.
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