He was Clark Kent, tall and built and conservative, with glasses, sweetly attentive, a combination of youthful cocky and shy insecurity. More than ten years younger, he had lied about his age, “I thought you wouldn’t be interested if you knew how young I was.”

I had taken him home some weeks before, after a formal function, a night of drinking, dancing, flirting, and later fumbling one-night sex, hot and steamy and awkward, with bodies slamming and urgent whispered instructions punctuating other wordless sounds.

I had not spoken to him since, I was not interested, but tonight, at the event, … Continue Reading

She ties him to the bed, face up – cuffs on wrists and ankles, spread-eagled, open for her, helpless, hard, exposed.

Then, a blindfold.

She hasn’t used one for a while, the darkness scares him, she can see it in the way he shies away from her hands, trying to sink into the bed, the way he licks his lips (she watches his tongue slip out of his mouth and lap nervously at the sides of his mouth, it makes her stomach lurch, her mouth opens slightly, almost involuntarily, she hears her own breathing, her eyes on his lips, she … Continue Reading

As soon as the door closes behind us, I am on you.

I shove you back against the wall, grab a fistful of your hair, jerk your head back, then sideways. Your eyes widen, you try not to resist. Your head smashes against the wood as I push myself up against you, my mouth on yours. I open my mouth, forcing your lips apart, I suck your breath, your arms automatically go around my waist as you pull me harder against you and seek out my tongue with yours, you strain forward against my grip in your hair to get … Continue Reading