I am sitting on the ottoman in the bedroom wearing black lingerie, blindfolded with a black ribbon.  When Adrian had texted to say he was just minutes away, C had tied the ribbon across my eyes and told me to sit and wait.

The doorbell rings and C goes downstairs to answer it.  I can hear a murmured conversation and then, nothing.  A few moments later I know he is in the room.  A presence, a slight movement of air, but not a sound, not a word.  My heart starts to beat faster.  The heat between my thighs grows and I can feel, or imagine I feel a trickle of moisture into my panties.

A quick peck on my lips as I strain forward and then fingertips touch my ankles and trace their way up over my knees and thighs.  As they approach my V, they veer away, slide over my hips, and travel up to my breasts.  They dwell for an instant and then brush my neck, onto my lips, letting me kiss and breathe on them. And then down, my shoulders thrill to his caress; then it’s the turn of my swelling, heaving breasts.  He gently palpates those while a tiny groan slips past my lips and my breathing quickens.  His hands sweep back down to my feet, and he begins his dalliance again.  And again.

No words no sounds, except my quick gasps.  He removes my negligee and then – at his leisure – my bra falls to the floor.  He begins to tease my nipples, brushing past them with his thumbs, as he squeezes the plumpness of my boob, stretches my hardening teats, and connects the feeling of mounting ecstasy to my lips by letting me kiss and suck his fingers fleetingly.

He steps back – he must be removing his shoes – and when I feel him move back my nose touches an immense denim-covered bulge.  My fingers reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and tug his trousers down, and his pants.  The pants get caught; they are snagged on his gloriously rampant cock.  My hands fly to release him, release it, and the wonderful smell of him– aroused and wanton – fills my mouth and nose.  I hold his manhood between my hands and run one hand down so I can cup his balls which are already mobile, sliding around.  I lean forward to nuzzle him.

He turns me so he can reach over me, working his magic fingers down my back that has missed out so far.  I move so I can suckle his penis, drawing him in as far as I can, letting my tongue and throat massage him.  I reach under his dangling testicles and bring my fingers to his bottom, stroking gently along his crack, pressing his anus, and letting my fingernail gently scritch.  My reward is immediate.  Pre-cum coats my lips and tongue.  I suck ever more hungrily.

Then his powerful arms pull me up.  I am pinned against his chest, his jutting penis pressing my belly and his hands reaching down stroking, brushing, and then gripping my knickers.  These he pushes down and off.  He needs to feel me, he wants to find the wetness between my legs.  He wants to spread me open and delve into the nectar he finds there.  And so, he does.  Pressing into me with three fingers he finds what he sought and brings his dewy, sticky fingertips and pushes them into my mouth, tasting myself, licking the excitement, and kissing him.  He translates his excitement into raising me higher so he can introduce his rigid phallus first into my slit and then into the entrance of my vagina.  I feel him as he pushes and inches in, but he is too big; he is too tall; and even on tiptoe and with one leg raised it is not workable; he slips out.

Taking me by the hand, he guides my blind steps to the bed and pushes me forward, so I lie on my front, full length on the bed.  I feel the bed move as he gets on beside me, and then his hands are between my legs, fingering me and spreading me wider.  I can feel it when he places his need on me and in me.  His belly presses on my back, and he slips in and moves, rocking me, rocking the bed.  I groan and then whisper, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”  And I do.  I clutch the duvet and twist it tight as a wave of desire, lust, and release rushes through me.

Adrian adjusts his position and starts to kiss my bottom.  His tongue finds my pink rosebud and he licks it, pressing forward all the time and then suddenly he is in my bottom.  He has taken me anally twice before, so he knows he is welcome, but the suddenness makes me gasp.  I am full, so full.  He pushes in three times, I am slick from his tonguing and his penis is coated with my cum, but he is a big boy, and with me still lying flat on my front he does not have the best angle, so he re-enters my sex.

I know it is his time.  The urgency of his thrusts, the swelling of the head of his penis, the soft grunt of pleasure, and the jets of hot cum, as he leaves his seed in me, tell me.  His weight presses me into the bed; his belly pressing me down is a perfect climax.  After a minute or so, he eases himself out of me and I feel first a flow and then drips from my clitoris as his semen pools on the duvet, his tens of millions of virile sperm slowing and dying as they spread and dry.

I sit up and turn, pulling the blindfold from my eyes, and kiss him thank you.  I then hold my hand out to C, who has been sitting watching and waiting.  He comes and sits by me on the bed.  I kiss him while he strokes my cheek and using his other hand delves into my sex, coating his fingers with Adrian’s and my pleasure juices.  He begins to play with me, keeping the glow alive.  After all, he will be reclaiming me soon.

The usual end-of-playdate ritual runs its course.  The wash, the post-coital chat, the man climbing into his clothes.  The walk downstairs to the door, the goodbye, “I really enjoyed myself”. “Thanks, babe.” “See you again soon?”  “Text me”.  The click of the door closing and the turning of the key.  I walk back upstairs.

There is C.  He is naked on the bed with its crumpled duvet, Adrian’s drying spunk, and my wet patch.  He is on his back with his manhood standing proud.  I sit on the bed, lowering my head to take him into my mouth as his hips move up to my lips.  Soon, he will take me.  At last!  Heaven!