Submission With a Stranger (A Curvy Girl Erotic Adventure) (3 page)

“Do it then,” I said raspingly. The room was spinning. It was as though I had stepped out of my body and was watching the whole scene from above.

Michael’s face was red and his eyes were glazed. I could tell that even though I had not touched him, save for the fleeting brush of his penis, he was ready to come at the slightest touch.

“We can’t here,” he said. “You have to put your breasts away or we’re going to be arrested.” He laughed suddenly and snapped back to reality. “You are my slave, aren’t you, Angela?”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” I agreed, slipping my luscious breasts back into captivity. “I am the queen and you are my servant yet I am a slave to you.”

“That seems rather perfect all around then, doesn’t it?”

“It does, indeed,” I agreed.

As we talked, we were both vibrating with pleasure and intensity, barely able to contain ourselves. The steaminess emanating from our table was palpable.

“I’m going to pay. Then we’ll find some place to go.”

“Shall we get a room?” I asked. We were after all in the Hotel Vancouver.

“I think not,” he answered. “We’ll get a taxi and drive around. The waiter made some good suggestions earlier. Would you like that?”

It was a thrilling thought, provided he was thinking about doing more than some late night sightseeing.

“Where will we go?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll just drive. We’ll make the cab driver absolutely hot with desire. Let’s, shall we?”

I nodded my agreement. It was hard to fathom it getting better than it already was, but it seemed the night wasn’t over yet.

“Angela, I want to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible, which means I’m going to have to go take care of my own,” Michael said. “My cock is so hard I don’t know if I’ll even be able to make it to the bathroom.”

“Do what you need to do,” I answered. “I can help you out if you want.”

“No, not this time. Maybe later, Angela. You know who I’m going to be thinking about while I’m jacking off, though, don’t you?”

“Marilyn Monroe?” I joked.

“Not far off, delicious Angela. But you’ve got her beat by a city mile.”

Leaving me with that enormous compliment, Michael left to take care of business and pay the bill. I sat demurely at the table, finishing off my gin and tonic and nibbling on the fruit. I loved the thought of Michael furtively satisfying himself in the bathroom stall while thinking about me. I found myself strangely bold sitting on my own, meeting the head-on the glances of the men at the surrounding tables; I found myself smiling sexily like I was Marilyn Monroe, and I had all my best moves saved for only one gentleman.

“Shall we?” Michael interrupted my flirting with surprising speed. He helped me slip on my coat, and we found ourselves on the wet Vancouver streets. A taxi pulled up almost immediately and we found ourselves in an already warm, steamy cab.

“Even better than the bus this afternoon. A hermitage and a harem,” I said sliding into the backseat as he held open the door for me.

“Where to?” the cab driver asked.

“Horseshoe Bay Ferry Terminal,” I said, picking the farthest destination I could think of. I was assuming my paramour had money.

“I think you’ve already missed the last ferry of the night,” he said.

“Not to worry,” Michael replied. He had already begun twisting at my coat buttons, honing in on the warmth of my cleavage. Was it possible he was turned on again after just having satisfied his desires?

The cabdriver started driving down Georgia Street. He had his radio on a light rock station and though he cast the occasional glance in his rear view window, he didn’t seem overly taken aback.

“Take off your blouse, Angela,” Michael whispered.

I looked at the front with concern, but the authority in his voice and my wet pussy won out. I tremblingly undid my buttons, watching the slight heaving of my breasts as they slipped away from the silk. He greedily reached out to touch them, but I stopped him. The fantasy was starting to distill into my own world now. I slipped each breast out of its lace cup and began to finger my own nipples. I caressed and fondled, all the while watching Michael and occasionally the taxi driver.

I continued for a minute or so and then said, “I want your tongue on my nipples.”

Michael slid over and buried his head in my voluptuousness. He sighed deeply in the fragrant warmth. His tongue sought out my nipples and he began lashing and tickling and perambulating their perimeter ever so gently.

Then he’d nip the taut long ends with his teeth. I was in ecstasy. I was almost ready to orgasm even though he hadn’t been near my pussy since the hotel. I leaned back on the black vinyl seat, luxuriating in the pleasure of his touch, ignoring the discomfort of the fabric. He was leaning heavily over top of me, moaning and licking, fondling and grabbing.

I was responding in kind, reaching down to undo his belt and open his fly. I fumbled with the button and he helped me, pulling his shirt out of his pants at the same time. I reached for the buttons on his shirt, wanting to see his chest.

“It seems I’m letting you take too much control here,” he whispered. “I want you to lie down and put your hands behind your head,” he said with a sudden edge. His eyes were taking on that rough glint that I was starting to recognize.

He folded his coat into a pillow and then spread mine out like a picnic tablecloth. He pushed me, somewhat roughly, onto its soft inside. After positioning himself, he stretched my legs over the top his lap, my heels reaching the far door. I enlaced my fingers behind my neck and waited. He quietly withdrew, just watching me. I could see the rapid pulse beat in his neck and the way he was holding himself back. This was a man of discipline, I realized.

Without warning, he reached behind me and unzipped my skirt, sliding it roughly down my body as he mumbled gruffly, “I’ve been waiting all evening for this view.”

I heaved in both excitement and embarrassment as I lay before him exposed, with my legs open wide and only a garter belt, stockings and my heels, which had somehow managed to stay on throughout our foreplay.

“Oh, my God,” he said, stare at me mercilessly: all of me. My face. My breasts. My tummy. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I want to eat you.”

While he gazed on my nakedness, he was completing the unbuttoning of his shirt, regrettably hidden by a white undershirt. The shirt was tight, though, and showed off his muscular, lean torso. I, too, looked at him in unabashed pleasure. It was my turn to enjoy the sights.

I thought I heard the cabdriver moan in the front seat. I didn’t care one way or the other. Actually I did. It was enthralling that he was there, listening, straining, being turned on. I loved it.

“Keep your hands behind you,” he warned. “This is your night, my queen. You just rest. If I have to, I will tie you up.” With that warning, he sunk his head into my mound, bringing his hands up to my breasts again.

“Oh, your smell, your ripeness, your softness. I have no words,” he moaned, and I felt his tongue between my legs, licking their moistness and then biting the skin. Then it was in my pussy’s mouth, licking, popping in and out like a snake’s tongue. I moaned loudly and tensed my entire body.

He withdrew his tongue and said, “Any noise and I shall stop, Angela. You must remain perfectly quiet.”

The car was incredibly hot and steamy by now. The cab driver was breathing heavily. He had switched from the light rock to a jazz station.

I tried to stop from gasping. I’m usually a noisy girl during sex. I need to get it all out. I bit my lip and waited.

He sank down again. This time he parted my thighs with his hands and began to slowly massage them. It was torture. Exquisite torture. Next he took my labium and gently parted them, caressing the outer, then the inner lips with his index fingers. He did this for what seemed like an eternity and I could only think only of how I wanted it to go on forever yet I needed it to end, too. I was reaching the top.

He came up to catch his breath after a moment, removing his hands and mouth from my body just when I felt as though I would come.

“I just need to gaze on you for a moment or two and catch my breath,” he said, smiling. “We don’t want you to get too heated up just yet.”

I just had to laugh. There was more to come? If this wasn’t heat, I didn’t know what was.

Before going down on me again, he said, “Remember, no noise. And I don’t want you to come. Try with all your might not to come.”

I groaned deeply and throatily. I couldn’t help myself.

He withdrew. “Just for that,” he said, “ I am going to wait for a full thirty seconds before I touch you again.”

I thought I would die. I began to bring my hands forward to finish the work myself. I needed to be touched like I had never needed anything in my life.

“No you don’t,” he said. “Put them back.”

Without warning, he pulled off the burgundy belt from my coat and lashed my wrists together in a knot and secured them to the door handle behind me. I was so turned on while he was doing this I couldn’t stop my writhing or mewing. He ignored my movements and sounds, roughly taking care of the business at hand.

“You’ve just lost yourself another thirty seconds, Angela, and I shall just have to gaze on your helpless, luscious body and not touch it. It’s not like it’s easy for me either, you know.”

During that forever-moment, his eyes did not waver from my body. After a time, I just had to close my eyes and wait. There was no other way to keep from orgasming at that moment.

“Now be patient,” he said after waiting what felt like an eternity, “Lovemaking should take a good while. Revel in the moment, my dear.”

Then he sighed. “You are absolutely exquisite. I can’t help myself.”

I opened my eyes. He looked at me longingly for another few seconds and then he reached behind me grabbing my buttocks with his strong hands. He pinched and grasped and separated, running his fingers down the crack in my buttocks and circling my anus as though it were a pretty flower.

I almost screamed in a frenzy of passion, but bit my lip hard just in time. Michael withdrew one of his hands and unclipped my left stocking from its garter. He slowly drew it down my right leg, each tug a sexual gift. The no-ads jazz station intoned softly.

When he had finished taking off my stocking, he took my leg, bent it at the knee and brought my toes to his mouth. With his tongue, he separated and started to suck each toe. It was an amazing turn-on; no lover had ever explored my feet before. It felt as though they were hardwired straight to my pussy.

My back was arched and the tips of my bound hands were pressed against the car window, my arms completely tensed. Every part of my body was tight and ready to spring. When he had finished with my toes, he took his long tongue and licked the arch of my foot hard. At the same time I felt one of his hands inching up my leg toward where I wanted him most.

And then he was there. He began casually flicking my clit with his deft fingers while massaging my foot with his other hand. As quickly as he started playing with my pussy, he removed his hand.

“Don’t stop. Please!” I begged him.

“Remember what I told you?” he asked me, and he stopped again. “No moving. No sound.” I lay there pressing my buttocks together, concentrating on not moving, not coming, not uttering a sound. He watched me, smiling, teasing. It was killing me, but what a death it was.

When the time had elapsed, he went for my other leg, this time removing the stocking with his teeth, slowly wriggling it down my leg, making love bites every few inches. When he got to my knee, he came up laughing.

“I’m afraid that’s not as erotic as I thought it would be, Angela. Those stockings are sexier on your legs than they are in my mouth,” he said, pulling some black shreds out of his mouth. “I do believe I owe you another pair.”

He kissed me fleetingly on the lips, his tongue tracing the inner length, and then he was back to sensuously massaging my breasts, then suddenly pinching my nipples then massaging again.

“Get back to my clit, get back to my clit,” I kept thinking to myself. “Touch me there. Touch me there.” My warmth was straining toward him with every breath, but he ignored it. He slid the rest of my shredded stocking off, removing my shoe. Then he commenced taking his sweet time on the arches of my feet, very lightly moving his hands up and down their lengths, as though they were my pussies and his fingers were tongues. He moved on to massaging my soles with such slow rumination; it was as though I were the Queen of Sheba.

Though the tickling sensation was excruciating, I knew he was bringing both of us down a notch. We were both dangerously close to having our circuits overloaded and I knew that Michael was testing his limits. I could tell he had enormous self-control and this was not the first time he had taken a woman along for a ride like this. It must have taken years of exquisite practice to gain this measure of skill and restraint, I thought.

I wanted him to bring me to climax like I had never wanted anything in my life. The sensation and the needing were stronger than anything I have ever felt. It was as if time had ceased to exist and each second was all of life. Without warning, the taxi driver said, “We’re here. This is Horseshoe Bay.”

He turned around and smiled at us.

“Well, turn around and bring us back, then, mate,” replied Michael. “It’s your lucky night.”

“You’re telling me,” he replied and made a wide loop in the nearly empty ferry parking lot. All I knew was that my night was luckier than his.

“It’s at least a twenty minute drive back to the hotel, my dear,” Michael said, gently caressing me behind my knees as he spoke. “It wouldn’t be much fun if you came right now, would it? That would leave us twenty minutes with nothing to do. I want you to hold off as long as you possibly can. Do you understand?”

“But…”

“No buts, Angela. Let this little snatch of heaven last just a little bit longer. You don’t know when something like this is going to happen again.”