The soft hum of the ceiling fan motor is the only sound, the blades cutting languidly through the soft, tropical air. The scent of the beach and blooming hibiscus flowers wafts through the air as the bamboo slats cut their endless circular path through the humid, warm air.
Your body is a vision of beauty over there across the bed. Arms outstretched overhead, fully stretched across the Egyptian cotton sheets, and such a stark contrast between the sun-darkened flesh and the linen sheets. You lie back and moan and squeeze your hips into the pillow under your hips.
I press the play button on the cd player and come to the side of the bed. The bottle of lavender massage oil is there, heated in a bowl of hot water. I drop some oil on my palm and put it in, then I place my hands on your lower back, just above the bare white flesh of your buttocks. I push firmly down the length of your back, the oil allowing my hands to slide over your skin. On the back of your head and then back down the line of your spine to the top of your bottom crack and back for a return trip. Again and again the route is resumed, the gentle sounds of the flute drifting slowly through the air, the timing of the music monotonously slow at first but with a sense of urgency burdened deep within it. Revel’s Bolero, what a perfect musical sensation to rub bare flesh with.
More oil in my hands, your shoulder blades coming under the spell of my warm, lubricating fingers, then your neck. Your upper arms and the swelling of flesh that overflows into your ample bosom. And lower and lower, the thighs and then the calves. Your soles and the graceful line of your ankles.
And all the while the intensity of the music increases, the oil runs down your skin, the scent of lavender permeates the air, and I know I have to make the move now. Walking quickly around the bed, I loop the soft black rope around your wrists and quickly secure them to the post. I see the twinkle of concern in your eye and I tell you then, don’t worry, I will make this all a very pleasant experience for you.
You lie face down on the bed with your hips slightly raised on the pillow and I reach down and stretch your beautiful buttocks. I can see the hair standing up on your lower back, the goosebumps rising up your buttocks, bending inward. I place the flat part of my tongue in the crack of your ass and lick. And then I do it again, and again, the need for my tongue to explore your ass, to eat your ass overwhelms me, and I know that the moan I hear from you as I make love to your ass with my mouth means that you feel the same way.
I have a Pyrex dildo on the table, and in the pot of hot water, and I take it out and place it at the opening of your sex. I lean down and place my mouth next to your ear, tongue striking, licking your ear and whispering:
– I’m going to fuck you with this glass penis. Please tell me when you orgasm.
And with that I slowly insert all four inches of the glass phallus into you slowly and very deliberately.
I’ve heard it said that having a heated glass penis inserted inside you is an amazing experience. I certainly hope this will be a magnificent experience for you. I want to pull it on you slowly at first, to see the rising and falling of your breath come faster and with more urgency and need. I want to see you strain, just a little, against the bonds that bind you to the pleasure I will feel in you. In and out, I make it go. I find new depth and a multitude of new places, find new angles and exploit them, to the brink of insanity and back and then again and again and again. And when the end is oh so near, your moans and your twitches making it evidently clear, I want to push my face into your pussy, my tongue to eat you wildly, knowing the sweet and delicious nectar of your ripe fruit. I know that to my great joy I brought you to the brink and now I have forced you over the edge. In mind numbing bliss. You scream and I smile because I know I have wreaked havoc on you that I have wanted for so long.