When Finally We Meet

"Come on, John, darling," I say plaintively. "We're going out."

Your voice is commanding as your hands run up and down over my curvy torso.

"No," you say, sternly. "We're not going out."

Your left arm pulls me tightly into you and your right hand runs slowly up and down the inside of my right thigh. Your mouth is doing wondrous things to my neck.

"We're ... we're not?" I whisper.

You turn me around, grab me around the waist, your hands going almost completely around it, and look intently into my blue eyes. My hands are lightly up against your hard chest.

"You've been teasing me ever since I got here," you say. "I'm through being played with. I don't care how beautiful you are. You are still my boy and you're going to do what I tell you to."

You kiss me -- hard. I struggle, but you're far too strong. Your tongue invades my mouth and soon you can tell my resistance is melting. My body slowly begins to undulate into yours. Finally, I am able to free my lips from yours.

"Let me go," I say.

"You don't mean that," you say confidently. You love being in control of such a beautiful, classy person. You lick my left earring and then run your tongue into my ear. Your hands are all over my body, finally settling on my ass, which you grasp repeatedly.
"Awgghh," I cry, then move my head rapidly to bite your right earlobe. My lust is battling my sense of propriety. "Please let me go." I beg like a child.

You have no intention of letting me go.

"You're mine," you say.

The only part of my body that hasn't surrendered to you is my mind. My eyes are closed and I'm not even certain what I'm saying.

"But I'm beautiful ... and ... and ... and everyone wants me. YOU want me. When you were through with college I was only five or six years old, and now you can't keep your hands off me."

I start to sob.

"Please stop. Please let me go."