Early experiment

I pulled the hood over her eyes and immediately her shoulders tensed. The black fabric felt soft, stretchy, like an expensive pair of silk blend socks I had just bought myself. Maybe I was just thinking about silk because that's what I had just tied her hands with behind her back - the sash from a dark red Chinese robe.

The room was only lit by a few candles and the warm red glow of a shaded lamp in the corner.

"Relax," I purred and adjusted the hood around her face. It reached down to her mouth. Maybe I should have looked for a suitable blindfold, but the hood gave more of a feeling of enclosure, containment, possession. Apart from that, and the silk sash around her wrists, she was naked. Standing, legs slightly spread, in the middle of her living room.

Mia and I had been dating casually for a month or so. It was Saturday night, we'd been out, and we were walking home to her place when she mentioned that she'd really like a fat joint - it had been a rough week for her at work. "I just want to get out of my head for a while..." she said when I asked her why.

"I've got an idea, but only if you trust me."

She smiled, and told me she never trusted anyone who asked that.

"If I open the curtains," I said quietly, "anyone who walks past and looks up at your window will see you."

Mia was quiet.

"How does that make you feel?"

"Don't do it..." she whispered, in a tone that was more concerned than aroused.

"I'm sitting in front of you. Looking at you. I have all my clothes on. Nothing would be easier than to stand up and pull the curtains open."

She bit her lip, said nothing.

I teased her, asking why, when I could share such a gorgeous sight with the world, should I keep it to myself? Then, in some detail, I began to describe her to herself. The soft dark hair sticking out from under the black hood. Her voluptuous curves, the way her heavy breasts stuck out even further than usual with her arms restrained like that, the swell of her stomach, the width of her hips, the way the pink lips of her pussy peered through the soft dark hair between her round, white thighs.

When we got home, the first thing we did was take stock of her bondage toys. There were none, she said. That turned out to be a misunderstanding. It's always possible to figure something out. The average household is full of potential restraints, blindfolds, gags, even spanking-implements. You just have to know where to look. The hood was some sort of hi-tech ski cap, the blindfold was a sleep mask, and the robes hanging right next to her bed had restraints dangling from the belt-loops.

But the best toy, I discovered on her windowsill.

The soft, smooth plastic felt warm to the touch. I picked it up, hefted it, and then handed it to Mia. "Wash it with soap and warm water. And think about how it'll feel on your arse."

I put two fingers on her neck, just below where the hood ended, and traced a long, curvy line down her collarbone and breast to the end of one hard, dark nipple. Her aureoles were broad and sensitive. Goosebumps appeared on her arms when I circled the tips of her breasts.

She knew what was happening, but not. When I led her by the arm to the sofa and bent her over the fat padded armrest, there was a hint of surprised resistance in her movements. "No, I'm..." she started, but I landed a loud slap on her bottom, "...aaaah!"

Not pain, exactly. Not pleasure either.

For a moment I stroked the spot where my hand had just landed, letting her get used to the sensation, get into it slowly.

Next, two short sharp ones in a row. Her skin was quite pale, and after a few slaps of my hand the warm soft surface turned a pale reddish pink.

I didn't really know what I was doing. To be honest, at this point I'd only had one lover who liked this kind of play. When her sighs and whimpers had taken on a soft wet tone, I paused the spanking.

Rubbing her warm, reddened skin, I put a finger to her lips. She sucked on it, greedy and silent.

Then I reached for our new toy.

"You're joking! Are you saying you want to hit me on the arse with a fly swatter?"

I smiled and pointed to the bathroom. "Wash it, and I'll tell you why it's going to be your favourite toy."

Mia stuck it under the warm running water and covered it in soap. I told her to bend it. Feel the springy tightness of the plastic, the smooth warmth. Imagine it in my hand, poised to strike her soft buttocks pushed upwards to receive it. Think about the sound it will make...

My finger was still between her lips when I hit her the first time. She squealed - surprised. I jumped a little myself at the sound, the sense of impact. For a second I thought, this is it, I've gone too far... And then she settled back down, gripping the cushion of the sofa, waiting for the next swat.

The strokes came widely spaced in an unhurried rhythm. Mia was getting into this, squirming around under the stinging slaps of the plastic fly swatter. After a little while I couldn't resist sliding my hand in between her thighs from behind, burying my fingers in between the dark hairs of her pussy.

Her buttocks were red, pink, very warm.

I didn't even need to touch her to know that she was dripping. She had such a strong scent that normally I could tell by just standing next to her fully clothed whether she was getting turned on or not. It was no use going out dancing with her - we always ended up leaving early because I couldn't resist the smell of her sex that led me by the nose every time straight to her bed (and sometimes other places on the way there).

My fingers slid easily in between the lips of her pussy. Twisting around slowly, trying to avoid her usually very sensitive clit, suddenly she pushed back against my hand, grinding herself on my fingers - and came with a loud prolonged "aaaaahhhhhh!" that would have been unmistakable to anyone passing by the door of her flat.

Smiling to myself, I remember thinking "hey, this totally works!" as her wiggling slowly subsided.

"Let me go..." she said in a small voice.

It was unmistakeably urgent. I pulled the cap off, released her wrists and pulled her up into my arms, holding her. She didn't meet my eye. We stood there for a while, her nose burrowing in between my arm and chest.

"Fuck..." she said finally, and looked up at me. "Look, I don't know... just right now I need you to make love to me." She held her lips up for a kiss. A slow, sweet, slightly hesitant teenage kiss you find in the back row of a movie theatre or in a darkened car. But behind it, on the tip of her tongue, an intensity that could only belong to a grown woman.

Mia pulled me into the bedroom and helped me undress before we fell onto her bed and she sat down on top of me. Holding my cock gently with one hand, she smiled and teased, taking forever to lean down, swipe her hair across the tip, and finally introducing her lips to the sides of my aching hard cock, kissing daintily as if greeting a distant uncle.

I don't think she ever teased me for so long before sitting herself on top of me and grinding our way to orgasm.

The morning after I somehow thought we'd talk about it. But nothing. In the remaining month or so of our fling (her term) we never discussed it.

But today, I met her for lunch...