I see her almost every weekend: she is a friend of many of my friends, and we attend the same parties. I like to observe her as I pretend to chatter. She’s incredible. With every flick of her mahogany hair, with every hand gesture, she exudes sexuality and desire. It’s as if she wants the whole world and knows they want her too, but she’s a tease and isn’t going to give herself over easily. This part of the world certainly wants her.
I have had many men, but am still a virgin to the touch of another woman. And how I long for her to change that. I often fantasise about her as I make love with my boyfriend, although he contributes my extra wetness and multiple orgasms to his sexual prowess. If only he knew!
I think about her as I stand naked in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, wondering what to wear to tonight’s party. I want to take extra care in my appearance, as I know she will be there. I imagine unlacing her black satin bustiere, just enough to partly uncover her soft, round, snow-white breasts and stroke them lovingly as in my dreams I have longed to. I snap out of my reverie to find myself quivering uncontrollably, my nipples hard and my pupils dilated. No one has ever had this much control over me by simply appearing in a daydream. I reach for my best knickers, then decide against wearing any at all. Rather than wearing a bra, I lace myself into my latest purchase – a leather corset – and marvel at the way my breasts spill over it in just the right way. I choose opaque black stockings over my rather tatty fishnets, and clip them to my suspender belt. Finally, I struggle into the short leather skirt that goes with the corset. I smile at my reflection. I look like a whore out to score. Well, I am. And I like it. I neaten my bright dyed-orange hair as best I can and apply my makeup. I can tell how important physical appearance is to her, and if this doesn’t attract her, nothing will.
My preening makes me late and I do not arrive at the party until nearly 10pm. I enter the living room and see her right away. She is surrounded by the usual crowd of admirers, and as usual, is vibrantly, violently alive. Her blood-red mouth is open, laughing, and profoundly inviting. I long to take her right there, to rush at her in a tangle of limbs and sweat and desire. She suddenly catches my eye and smiles, gesturing to invite me into her magic circle. Mesmerised, I stumble forward, and kneel on the carpet in front of her. She leans forward to speak to me, and I can smell her scent and catch a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage.
“I’ve seen you before haven’t I?” she inquires in the husky voice that haunts my dreams. I nod. She breaks into a smile. “Hey, you’re the chick who wrote that article on suffocation as foreplay for “Cherry” magazine that caused all the uproar, aren’t you?”
“Yes”, I reply in a small voice. Then, gaining more confidence, I add “It’s amazing that even supposedly broad-minded adults reading an erotica magazine can be so easily offended.”
“Ahh well. Not everyone gets off on the thought of death by Bianca.” I’m deliriously happy that she knows my name. Her eyes rake me over, and I feel a thrill. She’s mentally undressing me. I know it.
“I’d say you were one of the special ones, B.”
The noise of the party has increased so that everyone has to shout to be heard. She suggests we go upstairs to talk further and I agree, already feeling tingly as blood rushes to my clitoris.
She leads me into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind us. I follow her to the bed and watch her as she reclines seductively, her lacy black slip bunching up around the tops of her thighs. Her long sexy legs stretch out in front of her, bent slightly, and I marvel at the beauty of her limbs, encased in sheer black stockings and a lace suspender belt.
Climbing onto the bed, I straddle her, and she begins to stroke my inner thighs. I gasp at the incredible sensation sweeping through me, at the warmth rushing to the inside of my legs. She undoes the clasps of my suspenders and rolls down my stockings, brushing my skin with just the tips of her fingers and making me quiver excessively. I lean over and kiss her passionately on the mouth. She kisses back, and our tongues entwine and circle each other as we explore each others’ mouths. Her mouth is hot and wet, and, judging from the way she’s beginning to grind herself against me, between her legs is too.
I cannot help myself any longer. Months of longing override me in a single second, and I tear wildly at her clothes, ripping her stockings off her legs and pushing her slip up around her chest. She sits up slightly and does the rest for me, pulling the slip over her head and throwing it across the room. I bury my face in the cleavage spilling over her bra cups, inhaling her heavenly smell, then licking daintily at the plump, smooth flesh. I release her nipples from their silk enclosure and suck enthusiastically at first one and then the other. I encircle her nipple with my tongue and she moans softly. Encouraged, I take her right one into my mouth and suck on it, massaging the left with two fingertips.
She begins to stroke the exposed skin of my shoulders and chest. Her touch is incredible, freezing me and burning me up all at once. She puts her hand between my legs and I nearly scream out, the warmth of her touch feels so amazing against my naked flesh and pubic hair. I’m so slippery that her fingers are lightly coated in my wetness immediately, and she uses them to circle my clitoris and inner lips. I moan ecstatically, shaking at her touch and longing for her to enter me. I try to position myself over her fingers so as I can plunge them into me with a thrust, but she realises what I am doing and moves them away with a teasing smile. I whimper, shattered that her touch has ceased, and she takes pity on me and begins to masturbate me once more. The pleasure builds up, edging toward a crescendo, and I rock wildly against her hand. With each second, I am rising to the cloud that is orgasm. When I reach it upon the wings she has created, I am breathless and shaking as convulsions of pleasure tear through my body, again and again, until I collapse on her body underneath me, exhausted. She gently strokes my hair as she waits for me to recover.
I take my time with recovery, as I was not expecting the present that she gave, and have never before experienced anything like it. I so desperately want to give her the gift I have been dying to give her for the past three months, and I know I must have the energy to make it a fulfillment for us both.
At last I am ready. I heave myself off her body, balancing on my hands and knees. I inch further down her body until I am between her legs. I lay down, smiling as she twitches at the way my hair tickles her inner thighs.
Gently I begin to lick at her labia. The touch of my tongue is light, just enough to make her gasp and squirm slightly. “Please”, she moans. “Don’t torture me. Take me.”
Time to set some ground rules.
“Alright. But on one condition. You have to take me as well.”
A smile spreads across her beautiful, flushed face. ” Yes,” she murmurs. “I will.”
Satisfied, I return to my duties, enthusiastically lapping up the sweet secretions, of which her body is producing more and more each second. The smell and taste of her is turning me on again, and I begin to lick faster and faster as she starts to move against me slowly. She moves her legs up towards her stomach, and I realise that she is preparing to uphold her part of the bargain. Slowly she wraps her long sexy legs around my head, and the soft flesh of her inner thighs presses against the sides of my head. I continue to lick as she draws her legs in around me, pushing my face further and further into the soft sweet wetness of her pussy. She grips me hard and I cannot move my head. All I can feel, taste and smell is her vulva. My breath shortens, as my nose is pushed so hard against her that I cannot breathe. Within seconds, I am completely out of breath, and cannot draw more. I begin to feel lightheaded, and I start to hallucinate as she assaults all my senses. I cannot see nor hear, and the only thing I can smell is she. The only taste on my tongue is her sweet, tangy texture, and the moist wetness of her pussy contrasts with the smooth, soft dryness of her legs. And then I go under, my world fading into sweet darkness.
When I awaken, I am alone. Loss tears through me as I lay on the bed in the spare room, until I spy a note she has left me. “Bianca, my dearest. Thankyou for fulfilling me and allowing me to unleash my most hidden desires upon you. You shall always dwell in my heart, my dear, although I am leaving this place and we may never have contact again. But there is a place for people like us, and I hope that our paths may cross again. Love into eternity, Asphyxia. xx”
My heart still feels torn, but I take heart at her words that we may one day find each other again. I rise from the bed and dress, the only memoirs from my counter with Asphyxia the taste that still lingers in my mouth, and a short note written by adoration and longing.