I will be changing my emailer very soon. Please add
to your contacts so that the chapters don’t go to your junk mail box. Thanks!!!
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 67—Steamy as HELL!
We spent the afternoon in deep conversation about everything and nothing after watching Ever After, then Memoirs of a Geisha, and finally The Last Samurai. I know how the first movie flowed into the second, but how the second flowed into the third I’m not quite sure. Nonetheless, he sent me off to the restroom to change into something more appropriate for a romantic dinner and evening while he prepared the room for a night to remember.
Before leaving the en suite, I spent time pumping breast milk—the third time today. My breasts are a bit tender now as the pump is not as gentle on me as my children are. I try not to dwell on the guilt I feel discarding the milk as there’s no way to preserve it properly until I get it home, nor would I with all the champagne I consumed with lunch even though Dr. Culley says I can feed the children about four hours after consumption. I prefer to wait at least twelve—that’s just me.
I sit in the bathroom, killing time and looking myself over, examining everything to be sure that I am ready for the evening Christian has planned for us. I have no idea what’s coming, but I know that the sunken tub with the stone fountain and jets will be somewhere on the agenda.
I got my Brazilian wax right after my doctor’s appointment—a few days in advance—to be sure that nothing was in the way when we made love for the first time in two months. The way he gobbled me up last night, I know he appreciated it. God, I’m getting chills just thinking about that. As much as I want him, I’m a little worried as my muscles are a bit sore from my workout earlier. I took a hot shower afterwards, but I didn’t soak or anything, and I’m afraid my muscles are paying a bit for that decision.
I toiled for a moment over what to wear once I had done a tiny bit of grooming and had finished pumping my milk. I had three other options from Agent Provocateur, but my eyes kept drawing back to the Old Faithful. I don’t know why I brought it. I don’t even consider it sexy, but I wore something like it in France and Christian nearly mauled me against the window. Now, I’m drawn to the simplicity of it. The fact that it flows so beautifully seems so much sexier than these other flimsy things that I could wear. I take a few of the flowers from the arrangement on the counter and pin them into my hair. I hope I’ve made the right choice. I could have chosen something sexier, more revealing, but somehow, this seems appropriate.
The room is softly lit with several sporadically-placed candles when I immerge from the restroom. Christian is standing on the other side of the dimly-lit space leaning against the wall near the fireplace waiting for me. He’s wearing a cutoff black silk robe and I can’t tell if there’s anything underneath. My mouth immediately goes dry when I see him, and now I’m wishing I’d worn the black kimono instead.
He raises his head to me and does a double-take. His lips part slightly and he’s momentarily frozen in place. Even in this lighting, I can see his eyes immediately become the piercing shade of silver that indicates his arousal. I’m relieved that his reaction indicates that the off-the-shoulder floor-length vintage peasant gown was the right choice. Christian likes it when I’m sexy, but he loves it when I’m demure. I notice that when we play, when he’s in total control, he always makes me wear white. So tonight, I’m wearing white.
With the grace of a panther, he pushes himself off the wall and begins taking slow steps towards me. I’m momentarily a deer caught in headlights as I observe every muscle in his body move in perfect synchronization. I want to seduce him as much as he seduces me, but fuck if I’m going to be able to do it! In seconds, I snap myself out of my near-drooling stupor and breathe in slowly through my nose, letting the same breath out slowly as I coquettishly drop my gaze and head just a bit to his chest and walk in his direction—not a gesture of submission, but of arousal and admiration, and hopefully seduction.
It has the desired effect.
As we close the space between us, I never raise my eyes to his. I keep them on my prize, the valley of his pecks. He always touches me first, but tonight, I’ll seduce him first… although that might be impossible since I’ve already been seduced. Stopping only breaths away from my prize, I lean in as close as I can without touching him and sniff. He smells so good. I close my eyes and take a deep, conspicuous breath, breathing him in, absorbing his essence into me. The warmth of his fragrance invades my chest and consumes my senses, igniting me all the way to my extremities. His body temperature changes and though there’s no outward reaction, I know this act has seduced him beyond measure.
Almost on cue, his hand rises and his thumb and forefinger caress my bare shoulder. The contact is so arousing that I nearly jump out of my skin, but I don’t react overtly except for a coy glance over to the hand that gently strokes my bare skin. I turn my attention back to the hard body before me. I can’t resist. I press my lips gently on the valley between his pecks. His skin is hot—like fever, but not. I want to taste it, but I don’t want to rush. The robe is partially open, allowing me access to the side of the firm muscles, so I kiss them, too… soft, open-mouthed kisses that allow me a small taste on the inside of my lips.
I pull the sash to open the robe and gain access to one nipple. I kiss it softly and lazily drag my tongue over it. His head drops back in momentary surrender as his hand drops to his side. I lean back and admire his body. He’s quite a fine specimen. Opening his robe reveals that he’s wearing silk boxers underneath that match the black silk robe he’s wearing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Christian in boxers. Boxer briefs, yes, but silk boxers… never. They hang off his hips in that way so that I can see the beginnings of the dip on either side of his pelvis. I can’t help running my finger along the line above the elastic. His abs flex involuntarily at my touch, imitating the same flex he does when he’s grinding into me and I flinch in response, gasping at the sensation of the immediate tightening in my core.
“Anastasia,” he says huskily to my bowed head, “if you’re expecting me control myself, you’re not making it easy.”
“Who said anything about control?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes. Even in soft light, I can see his pupils dilate.
“We have to eat,” he says, stressing the “t” on the last word. “Once I get started on that body, I don’t intend to stop.” I take in a quick gasp of air and swallow it. He smiles triumphantly and leads me to the makeshift dinner table that he has made with the two chairs from earlier and the table in between. “Have a seat. You’ll need your strength.”
Okay, he’s clearly better at this seduction thing than I am, but if I affect him nearly as much as he says I do, I should be able to drive him as crazy as he drives me… or at least close! One thing’s for damn sure—I’m going to give it the old college try.
Without making eye contact, I pad over to the chair, lifting my gown so that I don’t step on the hem. Brushing gently against him as I pass, I sit in the chair, but keep my gown slightly lifted as I sit so that my legs remain exposed. I rest my hands in my lap before slowly raising my eyes—but not my head—to my near-salivating husband. I’m not going to be the only one aching for it by the time this meal is over.
He quickly recovers and removes a bottle of wine from a nearby bucket of ice. He expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a pale elixir into my glass. He knows that I’m not a white wine drinker except for champagne, which we had this afternoon to toast David’s final exit from our lives. So, I’m curious about this particular vintage. Nonetheless, I oblige him and take a sip just as he uncovers one of my favorite hors d’oeuvres—crostini with tomato bruschetta.
The flavor takes me by surprise. It’s divine… a chardonnay—normally not one of my favorites at all, but the crisp chardonnay grapes assault my tongue with the most delicious flavor, with combined citrus undertones that beg for a savory compliment.
“Mmm,” I moan involuntarily, closing my eyes while the nectar slips down my throat.
“You like?” His voice caresses my ears just like the wine caresses my taste buds. I nod.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Domaine Ramonet Montrachet Grand Cru Chardonnay,” he says. “We have two bottles.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Two bottles of champagne and now two bottles of chardonnay… are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Grey?” He leans in close to my face.
“I definitely need you sentient for what I have planned, Mrs. Grey,” he says, breaths away from my mouth. Fuck! There he goes again, one-upping me. Why do I even try? I sigh heavily and rub my hand under my hair against my neck, taking another drink of the golden nectar. I might as well just enjoy myself—no use in trying to seduce the master seducer.
I learn very quickly that my little attempts at seduction should just be abandoned when Christian reveals the rest of our dinner. He’s even seducing me with food… caprese salad with fresh mozzarella and Roma tomatoes with virgin olive oil balsamic, and fresh basil—another of my favorites; petite pork chops with maple-sage butter and charred cauliflower with toasted bread crumbs, cornichons and parsley. The meal is nutritious enough to be sustaining, but not too heavy as to weigh us down. We eat in relative silence, stealing salacious glances at one another while contemplating what the evening ahead has in store for us.
Three glasses of wine later, I’m feeling a bit of a buzz and slightly warm when Christian presents a decadent caramel apple crumble with a tiny scoop of vanilla bean ice cream from the mini-fridge for desert. I’ll admit that it’s just what I needed to cool me a bit, though my slight buzz has me wondering how the ice cream is soft, but not melted from being in the mini-fridge throughout dinner. The dessert is deliciously rich and sweet and gives me the slightest burst of a rush where the wine had mellowed me out.
Christian clears everything except the remainder of the wine and the wine glasses, placing everything on a rolling tray near the door as I stay seated near our makeshift dinner table. Reaching behind my neck, I gather my hair together and bring it over one shoulder to allow some air on my neck and back.
Apparently, my timing is perfect.
I gasp with pleasure as open-mouthed kisses pepper the skin of my neck and shoulders. I try to control my breathing, but my skin is hypersensitive and all I want is to feel him touching me. I hold my head down to allow him access to my skin, but it’s not enough for Mr. Grey.
“Stand,” he commands, softly.
Taking my hand, he helps me rise from the chair and again we’re facing each other. He’s so beautiful. How I thought I could seduce him the way he seduces me, I’ll never know. Just standing here looking at him, I’m so turned on that I can hardly stand it. My skin is literally crawling with arousal. I feel like I could come at the slightest touch.
I have to control myself when he tests that theory, bringing his hands to cup my face and placing a gentle, yearning kiss on my lips. The kiss becomes probing, and I indulge myself by placing my hands on his taut abs and rubbing them gently up his chest, paying close attention to the creases and sinews of his muscles. His hands move down ghosting over my shoulders and causing me to shiver, then my arms over the thin material of my gown and down to my waist as my hands continue to rise, outlining his pecks and exploring his shoulder blades, gently brushing his neck before ghosting the nape, exploring the fine specimen of male that is my husband.
His breathing changes as he deepens the kiss to the most delicious, slow lapping inside of my mouth, exploring and dominating, but so sensual, causing me to whimper helplessly as I surrender to him. Everything inside me warms and tightens as my fingers reach his hair and I caress gently—not the hungry pulling like when we fuck, but a soft stroking of the silky, copper strands, allowing them to flow through my fingers just as the heat of his kiss flows through me. We indulge in the sweet, tender exchange for several moments until my lips are kiss-swollen before he pulls away and turns my body around swiftly, pulling me against him hard, my back to his front. I’m breathless from the kissing and from how quickly he moved.
“You know you drive me crazy when you wear this,” he breathes against my skin. I’m so turned on, I could burst right now. I crane my neck to the side to give him better access and he takes full advantage, kissing and licking the exposed skin of my neck while caressing my waist and hips.
“I wanted you to be pleased,” I breathe, my eyes closed. “I couldn’t decide between this or sexy lingerie…”
“You made the right choice,” he whispers, biting down gently into my skin, eliciting yet another whimper from me. “It’s so demure and sexy at the same time… It makes me want to do wicked things to you.”
Wicked… how delicious.
His hands roam the front of my body, claiming me and making me hot, but when they reach my breasts, I remember only too well that they’ve been a bit active today. He freezes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly when I flinch.
“I’ve… had to pump my breasts three times today. They’re a little tender.” I feel a bit… I don’t know, guilty, I think… because my breasts are such a big part of our foreplay… and during play. He places his hands gently under each mound.
“We’ll take care of that,” he says softly. Again, I fall in love with my sensitive and considerate husband. He kisses my bare shoulders again, caressing them both like he did the first earlier, with his forefinger her thumb. Gently, he pushes the fabric down my arms, careful to lift the elastic band over my breasts so that it doesn’t irritate my tender nipples before dragging the gown down my torso. He kisses down my spine as he pushes the gown down further past my hips and it pools onto the floor. I shiver again when I feel him kiss the skin on top of my buttocks, then beneath each cheek.
I feel the air blowing on my now protruding clitoris as he gently strokes first the outside of my legs from ankle to hip, then inside, from ankle to crotch, now kissing the backs of my thighs.
“Aidez moi,” I whisper, not certain that I can stand much more.
“Patience, mon amour,” he breathes against my skin, and my knees almost buckle from underneath me. “Step.” I look down, and he’s reaching for my gown. When I step out of it, he retrieves it from the floor and tosses it over the seat I vacated after dinner. Turning me around to face him, his eyes rake over my naked body.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on my lips. He treats me to a small show as he slowly removes his robe and allows it to drop slowly into his hands, revealing his flawless, chiseled body—save the brutal scars from the abuse of his childhood. I push those thoughts away quickly, conspicuously licking my lips and pulling the bottom one between my teeth in salacious hunger as I examine his body.
“Do you like what you see?” he asks, his voice a nearly animalistic growl.
“Very much,” I reply, matching his hunger, but a little disappointed that he hasn’t removed his silk boxers. The show is delightful, nonetheless.
“So. Do. I.” He tosses his robe onto the chair with my gown and reaches out for me. I take his outstretched hand and he leads to me to the bed. It’s only now that I notice that the duvet is covered with two very large bath blankets. How did I not notice that before? There are items on the nightstand, I can tell, but they’re covered with a satin scarf or something so that I can’t see what they are.
“Face down on the bed,” he says. “Careful of your breasts. Turn your head that way… no peeking.” He smiles at me and helps me onto the bed. I comply and lie face down, adjusting my breast for the least discomfort.
“Arms bent, hands flat. Get comfortable.”
I adjust myself so that I’m lying comfortably on the bed. He removes my hair from my back and splays it over the pillow.
“Now stay put.” He’s gone for a moment and then I hear what sounds like a powerful piano or synthesizer come from the television. Okay… music, I think. It’s some kind of spacy meditation sort of sounding thing. I’m waiting for the tune to get started—or for Christian to touch me. For almost an eternity, it feels like I’m listening to some kind of strange space movie, then suddenly, the music starts and it’s this sensual sounding tantric beat with a techno undertone. I like it. I like it a lot. Simultaneously, Christian’s hands are on me—hot and oily. Whispering sounds in the song swell as well as added beats and instruments, and Christian begins to knead my muscles. They ache slightly from my earlier workout, and I didn’t know just how much until he touched me.
I sink into the wonderful feeling of him working the kinks out of my muscles, his strong but gentle hands taking over my skin. The tune changes to what sounds like some kind of electric guitar, softly strumming, but then flowing into the same type of tantric beat as the song before. His hands continue to move rhythmically so that I’m not distracted by the music. In fact, the sound and feeling together are transporting me to a level of comfort and relief I haven’t felt in quite some time. It’s so easy to surrender to this sensation and just… enjoy.
His hands glide from my neck and shoulders over my aching arms out to my hands before returning to the four quadrants of my back giving each quarter very special attention. I moan my appreciation as his massage works towards my lower back and tailbone. The next song flows right in with another strum of an electric guitar, much more sensual than before, and I swear he timed it this way because now, he’s at my ass.
He’s massaging deeply, both cheeks, and the feeling is utterly divine—not only because I worked my glutes the hardest today and those muscles are still the most tender of my entire body, but also because his oily thumbs keeps running deliciously over my rosette, turning me on to no end and making me wish he would slip a finger inside and end my torment. He spends the entire song on my ass, massaging and kneading to the rhythm of the mellow beat and tones.
When the fourth song starts, I can’t even describe the sounds of the intro—again, some kind of techno with a slight clang or tinging sound. His kneading continues and sure enough, just as the sensual music and beat begins, an oily finger slips into my rectum.
I gasp a long breath and release a shameless whimper as I fist the towels under my hands. He strokes deliciously, around and around, massaging me and opening me and I push back onto his hand, enjoying the stimulation. I cry out as a second finger slips in, indicating that my arousal has heightened, allowing me to open further. I can’t stop the sounds of pleasure escaping from my lips. He feels so good, his oily fingers massaging my anus. I’m afraid to come, but if he keeps going, I just might. The total relaxation might make me want to fall asleep and unable to concentrate on any further stimulation.
Unfortunately, he makes that decision for me and withdraws his fingers. I moan my protest, but he slowly moves away from my ass and begins to do something on the nightstand. It’s only now that I realize another song has played through and is ending and we are now starting another song, with what sounds like the same piano key playing over and over again. It’s a little irritating at first, then I hear what sounds like a woman moaning and the beat starts—then I hear nothing else after that.
It’s not that the music stopped. It’s that I’m completely distracted by what my husband and lover does to me next. I feel something soft, but firm pressing against my anus. What is that? It doesn’t take much and then, it slips inside of me. A brief rush of pleasure snatches the air from me as I realize that it’s a butt plug—rubber or silicon, I think. My butt closes around it, accepting it. I tighten around it, looking for the same stimulation I got from Christian’s finger moment’s ago, but not receiving it. A little disappointed, I remain resigned to leaving the butt plug where it is until Christian pulls on it gently and rotates it a bit inside of me sending waves of pleasure through me that almost cause me to buck off the bed.
He abandons the butt plug momentarily as he moves on to massage my hips and the backs of my thighs and I catch my breath. Fuck—it’s silicon! That shit feels amazing! Fuck! When my breathing returns somewhat to normal, he blows my damn mind again. As he moves to the backs of my knees and calves, his hand moves from one of my legs and I feel the butt plug moving again, only this time, he hasn’t touched it. His hand returns to my calves and the thing is still rolling around in my ass, stimulating me into a frenzy.
Fucking hell, the thing vibrates!
I’m shameless now, I can’t resist anymore. My ass is rising off the bed, my muscles tightening around this butt plug, fucking it and pulling it into me for maximum pleasure. I whimper with each squeeze, enjoying the burst of pleasure that follows each time I release. I want to reach down and massage my clit. Better yet, I want him to massage my clit. The ache is so deep, I almost can’t stand it. When he gets to my feet and starts that deep massage, I can’t hold on. All my nerve endings release and the pleasure starts to culminate in the small of my back.
“Christian…” I whimper after several moments of holding out.
“Yes?” he says, softly, his voice knowing.
“I’m going to come,” I confess, breathlessly
“Come all you want,” he says in a sexy, matter-of-fact tone. He pulls his nail down my instep and that sets me off. My first orgasm is anal—that normally small, but this time, not so small burst of pleasure that explodes from my anus, pelvis and back that some people swear you can’t have… yet, I’m lucky enough to have them. I’m breathless, but not spent. Anal orgasms can be intense, as this one was one of the most intense I’ve ever had. However, I’ve yet to have one as intense as any vaginal or clitoral orgasm I’ve had.
He massages my feet a little more as I catch my breath, then instructs me to roll over to my front. I’m a bit concerned about the butt plug, so I roll over gingerly.
“It’s flat, baby,” he says, calming my fears that I would be stabbed by a puff ball or something, seeing that the pom-poms are a favorite of ours. I lay flat on my back and now I get to watch him as he caresses my body. I don’t think I’m going to be able to stand it. He starts at my neck again, coating me with oil and paying attention only to his hands.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t look in your eyes,” he says, his voice low. “I have a task at hand and if I sink into those pools, I’ll stop what I’m doing and make love to you. Although that is on my agenda, it will have to wait.”
“Okay,” I breathe, wantonly. “I’ll just watch you.” He groans deep in his chest and moves his oily hands down my shoulders, taking the same route with my front that he did with my back, down the ends of my arms to my hands and back to my chest.
“Hands together over your head, baby. Set one on top of the other,” he says. I do what he says and my boobs sit right up like two ripe melons. He oils his hands again and begins to massage the mounds. Starting at the bottom, he does a gentle yet firm massage of the entire breast from the bottom, around the top, and ending at the nipple. It’s comforting and arousing at the same time. It gives such relief to the tender mound and areola from the pulling, pinching and sucking of the electronic breast pump. Yet, the tender stimulation of my nipple is erotic and stimulating and shoots right to my core. My body doesn’t know whether to respond with relaxation or arousal.
Reading me the way that he does, my husband continues the massage for several more moments until my tender breasts are not so tender anymore, then he moves on to an oiled nipple massage where both hands perform a continuous gentle upstroke of a single nipple with his thumbs and index and middle fingers. I don’t know how long he works the first breast before my core is pulsing with the need to come. By the time he’s done with my other breast, I’ve burst into my first vaginal orgasm, unable to control the sensation from the unrelenting massage of my supersensitive nipples.
“You’re so responsive, tonight,” he says, his voice husky. “I love it when you’re like this. I couldn’t ask for more.”
“You… make me… feel so good…” I pant, unable to think straight. “I can’t help it.”
“Sit tight, baby. There’s more where that came from,” he promises as he activates the vibrating butt plug again, and the vibration is different this time. It vibrates first, then changes to a pulsing sensation, that a rolling sensation, then a pumping or pulling sensation.
“Ah… Christian!” I protest as he continues his massage.
“Feel it, baby,” he coaxes. “Enjoy it. We have all night.” His hands course over my torso covering the area with oil, but this time, he passes my pelvis, making it clear that’s where he plans to end up, but not yet. He massages my legs and thighs, coating them thoroughly in oil as he makes himself comfortable on the bed near my midsection. He plans on taking his time in this area, no matter how many times I come; I already know it.
Pushing my legs open, he lubricates my thighs and massages each one thoroughly with both hands, allowing the air to hit my pulsing clit and the throbbing butt plug in my ass. I groan in anticipation as he comes achingly close to my shaved pussy without touching it. Next, he rubs his oiled hands across my pelvis, right at my mons where hair once was. The sensation is… holy… what the…!
“Hah..!” I gasp as he massages the area using intense pressure with both hands, much like he did on my breasts a few minutes ago, only more intensified. He’s using all of his fingers in the massage and it’s relentless. I move my hands and raise my head to watch him, to see what he’s doing to bring me this pleasure without even touching my clit. My God, it’s going inside of me and driving me insane along with this crazy butt plug fucking me four different ways.
“I told you I couldn’t see your eyes,” he warns, looking at me.
“I’m… sorry…” I pant, helplessly, my crotch frozen to this massage, my gaze frozen on his hands. It looks so good and feels so good. I can’t fucking move.
“Play with those tits,” he commands me, and I take both breasts in my hands, massaging the entire mounds mindlessly, allowing my hands to slide over the oily flesh until the palms finally glide across the nipples. I groan in satisfaction and repeat the process and Christian massages my pelvis right at the head of my vagina, still not touching it but miraculously pushing me dangerously towards another release.
“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re so goddamn gorgeous.” He turns his attention back to his hands. “Your clit is sticking out of your pussy, all shiny and pulsing, you know you want to come.”
Yes… yes, I do…
“Stop fighting it… come for me, baby… come on.” He slightly deepens the massage on my pelvis and with one more pass over my nipples and a tiny squeeze of my asshole as a reminder of the stimulation there, I’m coming again inside my vagina. It’s a nice little inside orgasm and though I have no idea how it’s happening, I don’t fight the feeling. I fall back on the bed, starting to feel the tiring effects of three orgasms, but Mr. Grey’s wandering hands let me know that we still aren’t quite finished yet. His hands are massaging my thighs again, intensively, and now also, my butt and hips even underneath me. After allowing me to rest for several moments, he’s back on me again.
“Oh, God,” I whimper.
“Ssshh,” he soothes, and begins another two-hand massage, this time, the lips of my vagina, parting his fingers as they rise up my core. He hasn’t touched my clitoris yet, but he’s close. It feels good. I only just now realize—though not—that through all the orgasms I’ve had, he still hasn’t touched my clitoris. Dammit, I want him to touch my clitoris! That’s why I keep having these little exhausting bursts instead of that one soul-stirring explosion! What gives, Grey?
No sooner does my mind think it than he shows me why he hadn’t touched me yet. He was building up to that moment. His hands shift so that the oily fingertips that were massaging my lips are now massaging my vaginal opening and my clitoris—two hands, three fingers each, in a repeated upward massage. I nearly jump out of my goddamn skin. The buildup was so intense that his touch is like fire and I can barely stand it.
“Christian! Please!” I cry out, trying to grab his wrist.
“Sssshhhh,” he chides. “Still. I’ve got this. Relax.” He continues his massage for several minutes and I don’t release his arm. God, it’s too intense. I feel this shit in my neck! Fuck!
Christian!” I plead.
“Feel it,” he coaxes, and shifts his massage. One hand—the wrist that I’m holding—begins a relentless circular massage of my clit… my entire clit, while the other hand firmly cups my ass, his long fingers pressing the butt plug hard into me while lifting my body slightly. He knew what was coming. As soon as the rhythm of that massage hit me, I begin to grind against his hand, stroking and holding his wrist, grinding my teeth and begging him not to stop. He doesn’t. He squeezes my ass and massages around and around against my clit, my inner and outer lips with his whole hand until…
A high-pitched, visceral scream that breaks from my throat bounces off the walls and drowns any hope of silence or sound of music in the room. His hand doesn’t stop as my hips are suspended in air, in pain from the orgasm being ripped from my poor tender little loins. I feel like Thor himself has come from Mt. Olympus or wherever the hell he resides and is beating the fuck out of my poor pussy with his mighty Hammer of Thunder. I can’t scream anymore, but my pussy is still pulsing. I don’t know how long that goddamn orgasm lasts, but I barely remember Christian prying my fingers from his wrist as I fall into a shivering, panting mess on the bed, trying to catch my breath.
“Wake up, my love, I’ve not quite finished with you, yet.”
I rouse my beautiful wife after I’ve prepared and warmed our foam bath. She fell right off to sleep after thundering into a shrieking clitoral orgasm and I thought it best to allow her to sleep it off a bit, especially since she had already consumed several glasses of champagne with lunch this afternoon and three glasses of wine with dinner and I plan for her to indulge in at least one more with fresh strawberries in the tub.
I’ve procured rose petals that I’ve kept hidden until this moment and spread them around the outside of the sunken tub. The remainder of our chilled wine and two wine glass await us outside the rim on the floor as well, accompanied by a small bowl of fresh strawberries to share so as not to upset our stomachs while in the water. The Jacuzzi jets keep the soft scented bath oil foaming on top of the water.
“Hhmmm?” Her eyes flutter open and her sleepy blues meet my expectant grays.
“Your husband has brought you great pleasure this evening, I hope…” I begin. She nods. “Unfortunately, his body still hungers for you. He craves you and he’s been left wanting.” She blinks a few times, then reaches out and strokes my cheek.
“Well,” she says softly, “we can’t have that.” I turn my lips to her hand and gently kiss her palm.
“Stand,” I say, taking her hand. When I we rise, she notices that I’ve shed the silk boxers. She bites her lips hungrily. “Patience, Mrs. Grey,” I tease, “turn around.” When she turns away from me, she faces the tub not only to see my presentation, but also to allow me to gather her hair together in a messy bun and secure it with a hair tie.
“That looks very inviting,” she says in a sultry voice.
“I’m glad you approve,” I tell her. “I took great care and effort to get you oily and dirty. Now let’s see how much time I can take getting you clean.” She turns back to face me.
“By all means, Mr. Grey, don’t rush.” She pulls my head down to hers and kisses me deeply while stroking a still-oily hand over my quickly stiffening erection. I groan into her mouth and grasp her ass firmly. I’ve wanted her the entire evening. Watching her writhe in desire, coming over and over again, her sexy body covered in oil from head to toe—it took everything in me not to toss my plans to the winds, sink into her, and fuck her all night long. It’s still not too late to indulge in that particular venture. I rip myself away from her delicious lips and luscious ass.
“Tub! Now!” I growl. She’s turned on again, and I watch as she struts that tiny waist and that big, juicy ass over into the freshly-filled sunken tub. Holding the wrought iron bar on the outside of the tub, she sits on the edge and slides into the water. I watch as her oily body slowly disappears into the foam-covered water and she sits down facing me, the water level just covering her breasts.
My mouth waters as I watch her, and it’s my turn to stalk to the tub. Her lips part as she watches me cross the room, eliciting the same pleasure from the display that I did from watching her walk. The closer I get to her, the harder my dick gets. I want her now! By the time I slip down into the water, heated just to the right temperature, but not too hot, my dick is throbbing with pain and need to be inside of her. She doesn’t waste any time. The moment I slide across the tub to get to her and sit down, she’s on top of me, straddling me and kissing me hungrily. I moan into her mouth as she rubs against me.
Fuck, she’s so hot.
“Butterfly,” I breathe, aching with the need to be inside of her, “I want you… now!”
She raises her hips and positions my head at her opening. Taking my mouth with hers, she slides down on me, taking each inch slowly and allowing it to stretch her so that she can acclimate to my size. I grunt as I stretch her, feeling her tightness wrap around me again and swearing that I’m going to come at any second.
“Goddamn!” I exclaim in her mouth as she finally takes me to the hilt. She rises and falls onto me again… and again… and again. The sensation is like… oh, fuck… literally!
“Damn, baby, you feel so good,” I groan, grasping her hips and caressing her skin under the water. The oil on her skin mixes with the bath oil and she’s still slippery, still soft and sensual…
“So do you,” she breathes against my lips. “You’re… so hard…” The arousal in her voice causes me to twitch which in turn elicits a moan from her and she heightens her assaults. Oh, shit, she’s going to make me come before I’m ready.
“Baby, fuck!” I protest, trying to control my passion. I thought I made her come enough to cool her down a bit, but she’s on fire! That hot, tight pussy is milking me and milking me and I’m not going to make it long at this pace. I’ve got to slow this down a bit, or at least even the playing field.
“Turn around.” I can barely get the words out of my mouth, I’m so fucking close to coming. Effortlessly, she spins so that she’s facing the other direction, never losing position, and the feeling on my dick is so fucking incredible that I almost lose my damn mind.
“God-fucking-dammit, Ana!” I exclaim, raising up and grabbing her around her waist. I thrust hard into her four times to ease the urge to come immediately, slamming her hard against my dick and regaining just a bit of the control that she just snatched from me with that incredibly fucking awesome gymnastics move she just pulled on my genitals and nearly made me lose my goddamn mind. She cries out with each thrust, calling my name on the last one, and I know that sensation was just as unbearable for her as that fucking spin on my dick was for me!
We both still for a few moments, gathering our wits about ourselves. Once I think I can take the onslaught of her glorious pussy again along with some added stimulation and what I know will be our first—and a very wild and intense orgasm—I take a deep breath and tell her, “grab that rail.”
She pants a bit, then does what she’s told. It causes her ass to stick out nicely, but she’s still on my lap on her knees with her legs open. I slide our bodies over so that we are both in front of the jet, but not so close that the pressure causes pain. We’re far enough to get a steady “brush” of the bubbles on our genitals.
“Ahaha!” she gasps at the sensation.
“I know,” I growl in my throat as I open our legs wider and thrust up into her at an even pace. “It’s like a thousand tongues gently licking you at the same time, isn’t it?” I know this, because I have the same feeling on my balls.
“Yes!” she whispers another gasp. “Yes… it is…” I swallow hard and brace myself.
“Now fuck it.” I don’t care if she fucks the water flow or fucks my dick. Either way, this shit is going to be unbearably insane for both of us. I lean back on the rim of the tub as her hips begin to move, slow and tight against my dick while the tongues lick my balls and the base of my shaft each time she lifts. Fuck, it’s so good.
“Yeah, baby,” I say through gritted teeth, “just like that.”
“Ooooooooo,” she growls deep in her chest, and I know her release is rising fast.
“Don’t come yet, baby,” I coach, “hold it!”
“Christian, I can’t…” she protests, her voice tortured.
“Yes, you can!” I demand. “Hold it! Don’t come yet!” She moans her surrender and I know that she can hold a little longer. I stroke my hands up her back and across the garden, Creamy, milky bubbles streak across her skin like body wash as her ass rises and falls in the water. She releases a mournful cry like she’s about to give in and I coach her some more.
“That’s it, baby,” I groan, “milk my dick. It feels so good.” That gives her a renewed purpose and she intensifies her stroke, grinding on my dick intent to pull every bit of nectar from my balls. My head lolls back on the tub, momentarily mindless from the pleasure of her hot, sweet, tight pussy and the continuous flow of bubbles on my scrotum. I feel the pulsing of that muscle at the base of my dick and I know it won’t be long now, and it’s going to be big.
“Yes… Yes, Ana… don’t stop… fuck it good, baby,” I breathe.
“Christian… I’m going to come…” she whimpers helplessly.
“Hold it… hold it…” I coax her, my eyes closed tight focusing on the tightening sensation beginning in my balls.
“Christian… please… I can’t!” she begs
“Yes… you can… hold it!” I know she’s going to blow any second. If she goes before I do, that’s fine. The fact that I’m telling her to hold it will only make it more intense… just like mine… any second now… hot molten lava will shoot from my…
“Not… yet… not… fuck! Aw, fuck!” I grind my teeth and dig my nails into her hips as I explode inside her, pumping semen deep into her as her walls start to vibrate and tighten violently.
“Oh, Goooooooooooooooooood!” she screams as she stiffens and starts to tremble. I lean forward, pushing myself into her and holding her up against me as we both ride out painfully intense orgasms while I’m buried inside of her and a thousand tongues wring blinding pleasure from our genitals.
I lean back on the wall of the tub, taking her with me in my arms. Still a bit breathless, I retrieve the loofa from the rim of the tub and begin to gently wash her skin. I know that the warm water will go a long way to help with the earlier ache of her muscles and the foaming bath oil will clean the rest of the essential oil from earlier off her skin. She allows me to clean her from head to toe while she catches her breath and I take great joy in caring for her. When I’ve covered every inch of her body, I move to put the loofa back on the rim of the tub, but she takes it from my hand.
“My turn,” she says softly. I gaze at her for a moment, then relinquish the loofa to her. She fills it with a bit more bath oil and starting from my neck, loving cleans my skin from head to toe, just as I had done her moments earlier. I’m enthralled watching her, and impassioned by her gentle act of love and caring. I’m accustomed to doing this for her. Whenever she does something like this for me, I’m still breathless and speechless. When she has finished, she straddles me again, sliding down once more on my already stiff erection.
“Ah… baby,” I breathe, as she rises and falls on me.
“I felt you growing in my hand,” she says, her voice thick with need. “I knew I had to have you inside me again.”
“My favorite place,” I say, deeply.
“My favorite place for you to be,” she replies, gently sinking her teeth into the meat of my neck.
“Ah! Fuck!” I exclaim, grabbing her ass as she rises and falls on my dick. “You feel so good, baby. You make me come so hard!” My finger graces across her rosette and she trembles. I do it again and get the same reaction. Sliding back over to the thousand tongue bubbles, I hold her open for full stimulation while she fucks me.
“Mmmmm,” she groans, “yes… right there.” She throws her head back and rides, moaning in ecstasy with every movement. The sight is nearly unbearable. I raise my hips with her downstroke to get the tongue sensation on my balls. As we both get lost in the friction and sex, she murmurs, “I want you there.” A bit sex-dazed, I open my eyes and ask, “What?”
“I want you there,” she breathes, huskily. “In my ass… I want you there.”
She rises off me and Greystone is standing at full mast, even under the water. I’m still holding her ass open and she guides my head between her legs and to her anus. When she finds her mark, she pushes the head inside her tight asshole and I grit my teeth to keep from coming immediately. I hold her open and she pushes another inch or so inside of her. God, she’s so fucking tight. I’m panting frantically out of my mouth. It takes several moments and a bit of back and forth before I’m finally sinking fully and happily inside of her.
“Oh, my Gooood, you feel so good,” I mourn when she has finally taken all of me.
“So do you,” she says, her voice broken, almost a weep.
“When I watched you fuck that butt plug, all I wanted was for my dick to be inside your ass. I got rock hard watching you grind into the air like that. It was all I could do not to snatch that thing out of you and fuck you right there.” I groan, sinking into her as she slowly rises and falls on my dick, taking me deep into her and causing me agonizing pleasure at this moment.
“And now you’re getting your wish,” she says in a sultry voice as she grinds into me provocatively, deliberately tightening her anus around me.
“God!” I bite out between my teeth. “Kiss me.” Again, I’m barely able to choke the words out around my arousal. My wife is such a minx. She showers me with a series of succulent kisses, some teasing, some biting, some nipping, some deep and passionate as she caresses my hair and rides my dick with her ass. I am totally and completely mindless with the pleasure, absolutely at her mercy and only able to hold her ass open while her skillful hips and flexing and contracting anus massages my rock hard but helpless dick to an imminent orgasm. Again, we’re positioned such that the thousand tongues caress her rosette and now, my entire fucking dick when it slides out of her. I am transcendent in ecstasy right now; if she wasn’t on top of me, I’d float away. What she does next seals my fate.
“Suck my nipple, baby,” she breathes, heavily, “hard! Do it now!”
I raise my head to look at her. Her lips are parted and her eyes are closed. She’s rising and falling like a sexy ass nymph and her plump, juicy breasts are right in my face, swelling again, her nipples taut. I pull the hard, pink pebble into my mouth as instructed and suck, hard! She moans in her chest and quickens her stroke. Fuck! I add my tongue to the suckle and she whimpers loudly, her hands tightening in my hair… and my dick swelling in her ass. I feel that pulse at the base and those thousand tongues are tightening the scrotum sack. Here it comes…
I move to the neglected breast and suck hard. She presses my head against her, pumping wildly on my dick and causing a burn in the head that immediately begins the few second countdown. When I add my teeth to the suckle and gently bite down…
A primal cry releases from my delicate wife and she bounces a few more times on my dick before she stills on top of me, trembling and throbbing through an anal orgasm. It only took two of those bounces for me to be emptying helplessly and seemingly endlessly inside her, my dick throbbing with such intensity that it hurt and burns and I bury my face into her bosom to muffle my painful cries. I tried to hold her down while I was coming to ease the intensity, but it was no use. She was on a mission of her own by that time, and I had no choice but to let her juice my poor organ for all it was worth. It’s still throbbing and thumping inside of her, still pulsing and painful… but I’m totally spent.
She falls over me into my arms, panting and attempting to catch her breath, as am I. I’m kissing her on whatever part of her body my lips can reach. This woman is a goddess… a true to life goddess. She does things to my body that no one has ever done before and never will. I love her so much. I crave her so much. I need her so much. She’s become a part of me to the point that it scares me. I can’t imagine being without her.
When my dick twitches inside of her in response to the sentiment, we both react, but I counter by rubbing the loofa over her back and arms in a caring gesture.
“We better get out of here,” I say softly. “We’re going to be pruney.”
“We never had the wine or the strawberries,” she says looking into my eyes and kissing me sweetly. Butterfly…
“We can take them to bed,” I say, returning her sweet kiss and brushing my lips across hers. “I love you so much.” She pulls back and cups my face, looking into my eyes.
“I love you, too, Christian,” she says softly, “more than I can express.” My heart swells and I kiss her again. She sinks her fingers into my hair and I know if I don’t get her out of this tub now, we’ll never get out of here.
I lift her in my arms, still kissing her and her legs still wrapped around me. I sit her on the edge of the tub and take one of the rolled towels from a nearby stack. I open it and drape it over her shoulders, gently drying her skin as she continues to grace me with her tender kisses.
My God, this woman…
“You are exquisite,” I whisper as I dry her body. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Who says you have to?” she breathes. “I’m yours.” I thrust my tongue in her mouth with those words and probe deeply, trying to quench the hunger rising in me once again. I can’t still want to fuck! I’ve come so hard, vital organs should have shot out of my dick! Twice!
When I pull back from her, wanton blue eyes beckon me to taste of her nectar yet again and I attempt to control myself.
“Go on to bed, baby,” I say sweetly. “I’ll clean up. I won’t be long.”
“Leave it for tomorrow,” she says softly. “Better yet, leave it for housekeeping.” I smile. I’m trying to talk down this erection so that I don’t fuck the lining out of your pussy.
“I won’t be long, I promise,” I tell her. She smiles and nods. Rising from the floor, she walks over to the bed. I watch as she takes the towel, bends over, and continues to dry her legs and feet.
Oh, goddess, please have mercy on me.
I let the water out of the tub, but leave the cleaning of it for housekeeping. After bringing the wine and strawberries to the nightstand for us to indulge before bedtime, I turn toward the fireplace to turn it on. As I pass her, she brushes her hand down my bare back. I freeze. The sensations send shockwaves and fire through my blood.
I continue to the fireplace and turn it on. By the time I’ve arranged the chairs so that we can see the fire from the bed, and I’ve blown out all the candles except the few on our nightstands, she has removed the bath blankets from the bed and has gotten into bed and is lying on top of the covers—demure, sexy, and waiting for me. I slide into bed next to her, intent on spooning her, but she won’t turn around. Instead, she wraps her arm around me, one leg over my hip and pulls me close to her.
“This is a dangerous position, Butterfly,” I warn, sliding one arm underneath her body.
“Why?” she says, provocatively, licking my lips and rubbing my nose with hers. I immediately grab her ass and push her hard against my erection.
“This is why,” I groan, rubbing my dick between her legs. “I’m trying not to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she whispers. “You’d never hurt me. I’m your wife.” She kisses me softly.
“God, I’ve already come so hard,” I say against her delicious, soft lips. “I can’t believe I’m still so hard for you.”
“I want you, too,” she breathes, shifting her hips so that the head of my dick slips into her core. I gasp at the warmth. She feels so good. “It’s been so long, Christian. My body craves yours, too.” She shifts again, and I slip out of her core and mourn the loss of the connection. I reach over the leg that’s wrapped around my hip and grab my dick. It’s not hard to direct the head back to her core and I gasp again as she gladly slides down on my erection with a gasp of her own. With one arm around her and one hand on top of her ass and the other underneath gently grasping the cheek, I push into her in the most delicious sidestroke. We moan into each other’s mouths as one meets the other thrust for thrust, not too fast, not too slow. It’s so good that it’s burning again, and she’s right… we’ve been apart way too long. Nothing, and I mean nothing… satisfies me like the inside of her sex. The warmth, the connection, the love, the satisfaction, the complete wholeness that I feel when we fuck, when we make love—nothing compares to that. As much as I love her hands, her mouth, and even our dry grinds—all the different ways that she can make me come—nothing compares to coming inside of her, to feeling her hot body grinding against me, smelling her skin as her arousal rises, feeling her juices release when I stroke into her just the right way, feeling her muscle flex and contract around me and finally tighten uncontrollably when she climaxes. Good God, it’s the most amazing thing in the world.
A few days before she had the twins, we watched Bicentennial Man. The robot, Andrew, had the most perfect description of making love that I almost immediately committed it to memory…
“You can lose yourself. Everything. All boundaries. All time. That two bodies can become so mixed up, that you don’t know who’s who or what’s what. And just when the sweet confusion is so intense you think you’re gonna die… you kind of do. Leaving you alone in your separate body, but the one you love is still there. That’s a miracle. You can go to heaven and come back alive. You can go back anytime you want with the one you love.”
That’s exactly what I feel when I’m inside my wife, exactly what I feel right now… so lost in the feeling that I hadn’t noticed that she’s taken the reigns and is now twisted somewhat, looking over her shoulder as if she can see us coupling behind her. The arm that was on top of her ass is now instinctively wrapped around her upper body, securing her in place. My other hand lies uselessly behind me and I have no idea how it got there… or why. Her arm is pressed on the bed behind her, holding her up and giving her leverage while her leg is hooked around my hip giving her the traction she needs to ride masterfully back and forth on the hardest erection I think I’ve ever had. Well, I don’t know if it’s the hardest… maybe it just feels that way because it’s been so fucking long since I’ve been inside of her, but it’s pretty goddamn hard.
She’s laser focused on my dick, sliding so hot, so sweet on my rod that I can’t even speak and I can only formulate one coherent thought…
Please, goddess… please don’t stop….
“I’m yours… I’m yours…”
He said it all night long, and I had him every way possible. I shamelessly took full advantage of his vulnerability and his never-waning erection, sexing him in every way my body knew how, pleasing him as much as his body could take.
“Please, don’t stop… please…”
I tasted him as I rode him, pleasuring him and paining him at the same time. I sexed him sideways—which was new and delicious and caused me to climax wildly. When I saw my man with his eyes closed and lost in uncontrolled arousal, I pumped that dick madly. He held me close to him and allowed me to control the stroke, murmuring praises and pleadings to me to keep the pleasure going…
“So good… it feels so good…”
“Kiss me please! I need you to kiss me… I’m coming!”
“You’re so hot…”
“Yes… oh, yes… right there…”
“Oh, God, you’re too much for me…”
“Do that… yes, do that… do that again…”
“Please… oh, God… please…”
A few times, I think he may have slipped into a kind of subspace a few times and I had to be careful not to abuse that power. I bit him and sucked him, choked him, held him down and fucked him, sucked his nipples and bruised and marked his skin while he was coming, listened to him cry out and fucked him through orgasm after orgasm to draw out the pleasure even though he would beg me to keep still because the feeling was too intense… but his dick was still hard—Dom Dick, I heard him call it once. It must be satiated, even if the Dominant is not in control.
My body may have been the vessel, but I was in control. All I could think was that my man woke me from sleep and told me that he still hungered for me—that I had left him unsatisfied. I know he meant no harm by it, and it did no harm, but it left me with one singular thought and purpose for the rest of the night.
He had made me feel so good earlier in the evening and in the sunken tub that I could only hope to bring him a measure of the pleasure that he brought me, and I had no intention of stopping until he surrendered…
… Which he did at sunrise.
“Goddess… please… no more…”
He finally tapped out and begged for mercy around 6:30 in the morning.
He was panting and exhausted and when I tried to move, he gathered me in his arms like a warm blanket, trapping me and burying his face in my hair until I thought he couldn’t breathe. His strong arms locked me in place and he fell off to sleep in seconds. In one moment, I was wide awake looking out at the sunrise and wondering, “what the hell do I do now?” In the next moment, I have no idea when or how, it was like sleep reached down and grabbed me and I was a goner in seconds.
And again, we never got to the wine and strawberries.
A/N: Sorry about the premature posting earlier. Hopefully, those of you who read the pre-edited version could still get through it even with the mistakes.
“Aidez moi”— “Help me”
“Patience, mon amour”—“Patience, my love”
Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc., can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/becoming-dr-grey/
You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just click the link and it will lead you to a form to join the list.
Love and handcuffs