Refined Submission

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Big Balls

When we first meet, it is at your door. Myself dressed in a Gucci suit of dark grey and white shirt, my hands filled only with a bottle of wine. A Southern Italian Sangiovese, dry and spicy. I smile, as do you when I bend forward, my lips moving to kiss your forehead. My hand, enclosing on that curve that smoothes from the back of your head to the nape of your neck.

I watch as you turn. Your small breasts just showing beneath the white blouse. The buttons undone two too many to give a hint of the flesh beneath. The cloth tucked neatly into your dress. A black length of fabric, long by most standards, refined but far from reserved with the understanding of what is to come.

I almost see a tremble in your fingers as you hand me the corkscrew. I smile. My eyes peruse the apartment that surrounds us while my hands work the spiral to withdraw the cork. I breathe. It’s a wonderful place. Small and neat. Nicely decorated without going overboard. I pass the bottle of wine over a glass and pour just a spot. Swirling it to increase the aroma, holding it to your lips.


You move your lips forward. Just touching the glass. Waiting for me to gently tip it toward your tongue. The ruby red liquid slides into your mouth, past your lips. I tip it back and swirl it again.

I watch as you taste it, watching your tentative smile. Tasting it myself.


You nod.

It’s good. Strong, but fit for a hot climate. Your fingers wrap themselves around the stems, leading me to your living room. The lights are low. Candles sit on the tables, providing that amber glow that accentuates everything. I watch as you sit. Your blouse falling open ever so, giving a further view of your body. Your legs splitting your dress just a touch further. The length now falling apart, falling away to reveal yet another hint of the skin beneath.

I sit back and we talk. We talk of life and work and dreams and desires. We talk of sensual repasts we’ve had in the past, of sexual explorations we’ve enjoyed. It’s almost polite conversation were it not for the context.

In time I tell you to come to me. To stand before me. I watch as you do. I stop you from putting your wine down, instead I ask you to bring it with you. To hold it, before you, in both hands, as you stand, your legs on either side of mine. I reach up inside your skirt and can see your anticipation, your desire and the energy in a physical wave pulsate from you. I reach up and lightly touch your leg. Only the tips of my fingers reaching your senses. My fingers wandering till they touch the fabric of your panties. I don’t go there, rather I follow the seam upward, to your hips, locking beneath them and sliding them down your legs. They fit in the palm of one hand as I crush them and hold them to my face.

“Patricia, I want you to place your right foot on the couch… outside of my knee.”

You hesitate.

“I want to see your sweet sex.”

I can see you blanch just a little. I can see you hesitate, before your head straightens a bit and your knee rises. You lift your right leg and do as requested. Our eyes are locked as you display yourself to me.

I take another sip of wine. Then bend over to kiss the inside of your knee. I look into your eyes, watching you watch me. I can see your breath quicken and your heart flutter. I kiss you again; higher, softer and watch as you take another sip of wine, smiling as my your lips move up again, to kiss your inner thigh. When I stop it is to lean back, and look at you.

Had I looked down, I would have seen all the way up to your sex. I would have seen the firm muscles of your thighs open to my gaze. I would have seen the neatly trimmed hair of your pubis. Instead I look at you. Into your eyes and raise my glass in a toast. A toast to our first exchange.

“Trisha…pet… look at me.”

Your head falls forward, your hair falling over your chest, your chest rising and falling rapidly with quick breathless respirations.

You hold your breath, and meet my expression. You watch me as I lift my left hand and begin to trace the outline of your dress. Following it again upward, now touching your thighs. Now touching that crease where they meet your waist. Now touching your mons. Never touching your lips, instead outlining them. Tracing the outside labia, Betturkey ever so softly, with feather like touches that hesitate only when they reach your sex.

I can feel your hip thrust forward ever so slightly, trying to increase the pressure. But my thumb pulls back. Not allowing you to have that pleasure. Teasing you further.

“Trisha… do not move” I tell you. And you sigh lightly as you use all of your control to nudge ever so slightly. My finger’s circular movements begin to grow smaller. Barely touching the line between your lips… feeling the heat from the tip of your sex. That ever hardening point of nerves.

You push forward again, and again I pull back. My hand instead sliding lower, following the line of your sex, feeling the soft curves and rolls and wetness. My finger slides just inside you, briefly lingering ever so lightly before I withdraw it from you. I put it to my lips. Tasting just a whisper of you.

“Trisha, open your blouse… show me…”

Your hands pull your blouse apart. Pulling it open around your breasts. The small nipples are firm and pushing against themselves. My fingers work themselves inside your blouse. They start at the hem of your dress and move slowly upward. My wrist spreads your blouse further, as my fingers linger on the edges, my own touch feather-light against your skin. I explore the curves your body presents to them. Just barely touching the bottoms of your breasts. Just barely lingering on the swell they produce. Skimming across your aerole and nipple.

You sip from your wine. I let my fingers fall again to your waist, to your dress and to your sex. And again, I begin the teasing. This time, dipping in further, and pulling out just as quickly, moistening each digit from your sex. Fanning the fingers through your opening. I raise one finger to your lips, offering you a taste of yourself. Your tongue tests the salty sweetness it provides as do I.

“Now, Trish… using your right hand, I want you to grasp your right nipple. Just hold it there… offering it to me if I should want it.”

And you do… you reach up and encircle your nipple with your thumb and forefinger. Using just enough pressure so that it doesn’t slip easily out of your grasp.

“Open your right leg wider pet. I want to see all of you.”

You pull your knee open wider. You can feel the night air hit the inner folds of your puss… now wet with your own juices. I take my left hand and guide it in to you. My forefinger presses and again begins the same slow, soft feather touch I began earlier. Moving closer and closer to your inner folds, you can feel your sex beginning to become moist and you know that you are overflowing. I fight the urge to shove my finger inside of you. Instead, moving my thumb to caress you clitoris, moving my pinky finger toward your anus. You shudder, less in orgasm and more in anticipation.

I guide my finger deeper into you, my thumb now playing with the little nub of pleasure, and my pinky spreading your own moisture downward. You try to guide me deeper into your folds, but every time I pull back. Showing you control over your body in a subtle way, teaching you who will lead your orgasm and when it will release. I force a moan from you from the pressure of my fingers.

You say, “Trish, pet… I am going to begin a count of ten…” My fingers continuing to deliberately stroke between your wet lips as I go on… “…with each successive number, you will begin to squeeze the nipple that you are grasping… Your nipple… harder and harder. Do you understand?”


The words barely leaking out.

You begin to feel my finger inside you press against your pelvis bone, caressing its curve, guiding deeper into the shiny folds of your lips. Then emerging again to be dragged against your hardened clit…then again sinking deeper inside of you. Soft moist sounds can be heard above the soft moans and sighs escaping from your slightly parted mouth.

I say, “one”. You apply slight pressure to your right nipple. Your left hand working hard to hold your wine, and your right leg pulling itself as far outward as possible.

“Two.” You squeeze a little harder.

“Three.” You try to do as bid, to squeeze your nipple harder.

“Four.” You are firmly grasping your Betturkey Giriş nipple now… knowing that what you see is a reddened tip being flattened by your fingers. It is not, as yet, a completely unpleasant sensation. More heated than hurtful.

“Five. And Trish, I want you to roll it back and forth, slowly, without releasing the pressure until I tell you to stop.” All the while, you feel my fingers push deeper inside of you. My pinky making contact with your anus, pressing ever so slightly in. Only now does my other hand come up to undo your dress, letting it fall to your ankles. Moving around your stomach, feeling the tautness of the skin. My hand travels around you, to your bottom, to touch and feel the firm globes they present. My pinky moves to the lower part of your sex to caress even further as my other hand finds its way to your rear. Pressing, ever so gently. I lean forward, my tongue just touching your clit as I say “Six.”

Squeezing harder, you begin to feel your nipple burning as you roll it under my command. You feel a direct connection travel from the stinging of your nipple to the tip of your clit, causing your inner muscles to contract around my fingers. I can feel your climax building. But this time I don’t stop. Instead I lick.

“Stop pinching your nipple Trisha,” I say. And you release the aching bud from it’s confines. Your breasts rising with a sudden inhalation of air caused by the return of blood flow to the tender tip.

My tongue moving your orgasm to a higher climax, my other hand pushing from behind holding you tightly against my lips and my fingers. The blood rushing to your nipples almost causes you to drop your wine glass. But you hold on as the warm waves rolls over you.

I have you sit, your legs straddling my own. Your sex open in what some would think of as a lewd display before me. We share our wine my fingers keeping you aroused. And again we talk. We talk of fantasies and desires. More openly now. Of sexual heights each has tried and each would like to explore. We learn a bit more about each other as my finger continues to explore you.

I ask you to bend closer to me. To open my shirt and take my nipple in your lips. To caress it with your tongue. You find your way. Your tongue flicking against my raised nipple. Your teeth just grazing the flesh. My own fingers working into you, slowly, slightly, gently massaging you until I hear a small moan escape your lips.

I ask you to reach down as you lick my nipple. To open my pants. To reach inside and hold my cock. Reaching down, you grasp me and pull me out.

I ask you to reach down and caress my balls. And you do. Your fingers playing lightly over their soft firmness. I hold your hair as you do. Pulling ever so slightly to turn your head slightly upwards as you stroke me, bringing you toward me to kiss.

My eyes never leaving yours, when I tell to take the condom out of my breast pocket and place it on my cock. You bite your lip, but nod yes. My hand moves toward your sex, caressing your clit again, causing your eyes to glaze over.

You take out the foil package and open it. Unrolling it over the tip of my hardness.

“But we’re going to play a little game.” I say.

“I’m going to insert my finger into your mouth. It will control the rhythm of our intercourse. When I insert it just a little, you’re to lift up and allow my cock to enter you just a little. When I push it deeply into your mouth, you’re to lower yourself on me and allow me to penetrate you deeply. Do you understand?” I ask.

You nod.

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

My fingers begin to work harder against your clit. Knowing what kind of reaction they’re going to provide.

You respond, “When you insert your finger into my mouth just a little, I’m going to pull up, and when you enter your finger further, I’m to push down.” You respond.

I smile. “You never said the word ‘fuck’.” And I give you a little spank on your rear. I continue. “My finger controls the rhythm of our fucking, do you understand? It controls the depth my cock goes into your pussy. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Now try it again. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“You’re going to control our fucking with your finger.”

I give you a smile and spank you again. Harder, causing you to jump. “You can do better than that. I’m sure you can.”

And again, my finger moves over your sex, your pussy, your clit, massaging you again.

And you do respond.

“You control the rhythm of our fucking. Your finger determines how hard I fuck you back. I’m going to sink myself onto your cock depending on how deep your finger is in my mouth.”

Breathless and meeting my eyes, my finger is taken from your sex and placed in your lips. Your taste resting in your mouth. Shared between our tongues as I kiss you deeply.

With that, you move yourself forward, working your wetness toward my cock. I feel your tongue dart out of your mouth and taste the tip of my finger. Following my lead, you press your sex just barely against my cock. Your taste is clear and sweet as my finger pushes inside of your mouth to the depth of my nail, and my cock does the same to your sex.

I feel you relax your thighs, allowing me to just enter. It takes great effort to keep our eyes focused as the warmth of your lips surround me.

I pull my finger out again, your hips follow. You rise up off of the head of my cock. “Very good.” I smile.

Again, my finger pushes into your mouth, just to my knuckle, and you mimic my movement. …sinking down upon my cock again. You do this so many times that you begin to lose count, but certainly not interest.

You find yourself beginning to concentrate on this established rhythm, beginning to settle into this wonderfully tortuous teasing, when you feel my finger sink further into your mouth, you sink exquisitely further onto the shaft of my cock.

I feel your tongue swirling around my finger, licking it freely as we roll with our own tide. On occasion I keep my finger in your mouth, forcing you to sit tightly atop me. On occasion I pull my finger out of your mouth entirely, forcing you to rise off of my now wet cock. Only to grab hold of it to re-insert it again.

I smile at you, your hand wet with our fluids. Our bodies moving together. Your hand goes to my chest. Pressing ourselves into each other. I bend down to nip at your breasts. My hands moving around you, to feel your body as we entwine. Always controlled by the finger in your mouth.

My finger sinks deeper, your body follows mine, and your thighs, tendons tightening, open yet wider to sink further upon my hardness.

Our tongues swirling and tasting, each other. Your pussy contracting upon the beautiful fullness between us.

My finger sinks deeper at one point, throwing you off. Breaking the rhythm we had established, pulling your mind back to my cock and my finger. My hand, pushing you to stretch your thighs open wider, to cause you to sink fully upon my shaft. My finger caressing, pressing into your rear, holding you captive as you feel that fullness you love. Holding your eyes with my own, moving my finger around in your mouth, you begin to circulate your hips on my rigidness.

Imbedded upon me, you feel your clit being rubbed and stimulated by the strength of your pelvis. Your eyes begin to plead with mine for release… no words are spoken, yet I shake my head “No” to your wordless, pleading question.

I pull my finger out of your mouth. Your body wants to deny that I’ve commanded that you rise. Yet you know that you must, and force yourself to bring your thighs together and rise off of my cock.

Without a pause, I sink my finger fully into your mouth, and you slam down upon the hardness of my cock.

I pull my finger out again… and you rise again… gyrating your hips as I gyrate my finger using your tongue as an opposing force. I quickly take my finger away from your lips, place both of my hands upon your hips, and say “Ride me, Trisha… just keep riding.”

And you are released to plunge down yet again upon me, feeling me meet each of your thrusts with my own powerful ones. Taking my finger out of your mouth, I place my hand into your thick hair, wrap my other around your waist, and pull you closer to me. No longer able to meet my eyes, your neck arches backward as you seek to find the strength to hold back what you want so badly.

You feel my lips on your right nipple, suckling softly at first, and then… as your passion grows, quite harder. I can feel your face looking heavenward, seeking the strength to hold back as the suckling sensations upon that sensitized nipple become ones of nibbling. My teeth bite into your nipple softly but ever so firmly and you find yourself becoming ready for that sweet release.

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