Madame B: Ecstasy

His hands were on my waist. Strong and large, they made me feel as light as anything. He lifted me effortlessly and sat me down on the workbench, coating the seat of my expensive black wool coat with plaster dust. He gently pushed my shoulders back. I yielded to his hands and lay down, my hair, clothes, shoes covered in debris, but I was too turned on to care how messed up I got. I knew then that I would let him do whatever he wanted.

I was wearing high-heeled black boots. He unzipped first one, then the other, and rolled my tights down, taking my panties off with them. The warmth of my body clashed with the chill of the winter night, and heat rose from between my legs. The fiery waves pulsing through my body meant the thrill of cold air only served to wake me up and make me feel more alive than ever.

He lifted the folds of my black skirt and ran his hands along the smooth skin of my inner thighs. The combination of his rawhide hands and the softness of his touch was electrifying. With one hand on the inside of each thigh, he pushed my legs apart as far as I felt they could go. I could feel his breath on my waiting pussy. I wanted him to say something, anything, but he didn't. Instead he put his lips to another use, planting a kiss directly on my clitoris. He hooked his shoulders under my knees, so that my legs remained splayed, and used his fingers to part the skin around my clit, leaving it exposed to the cold air and his warm breath. Then he went to work with his tongue, tracing tiny shapes on the skin around my clitoris, avoiding the bud itself. This was a buildup slower and sweeter than any I'd ever experienced before. Round, up, down, round, up, down, teasing me and keeping it steady until I cried out, "More."

He understood my one-word command and slid one dry, rough thumb inside me, tracing my insides, still working my clit with his tongue.

"More," I pleaded. "More."

So he slid another finger up and then another, and slowly I felt that the sensation from my pussy was as intense as the one from my clit. The circling of his tongue on my clit turned to sucking, and then I felt the tiny nip of his teeth on that most sensitive part of me. My body began to buck, sending clouds of dust everywhere, messing up my hair, but I wasn't caring about anything outside of the moment and what he was doing to me. Then the relief I'd been waiting for came. As the pulsations in me started, he maintained his rhythm for the few seconds it took for him to be sure I was coming. And I was, harder than I ever had before, overpowered by contractions that were radiating through every part of my body for what felt like an eternity, until he pulled his fingers away, hardened his tongue into a small, stiff peak, and began thrusting it into my quivering pussy so that it had something to wrap around as the waves of pleasure died down. I took him by his dusty, dirty head, pulled him up to me, and said "Thank you" with a long, soft kiss in which I could taste myself.

Still wearing my coat and dress, I knelt down with bare legs on the uneven floor before him. I didn't take control. I didn't need to ask him to take his cock out so that I could taste it. He read my mind in real life just as he had in my dreams. His jeans had a button fly, which he undid slowly and with trembling hands. I stayed still, lips parted, still recovering from my own orgasm but eager to give him his. He wore no underwear and, as he unfastened the last metal button, revealed a beautiful, hard dick with one excited vein running from his light brown bush to the glossy pink tip. The skin on his cock was as smooth and velvety as his hands were rough and craggy. I put my lips together to kiss the tip of it, teasing him, swirling my lips and tongue around but not letting him enter my mouth. I could feel how excited he was.

He let go then and pushed himself between my lips. I let my teeth drag ever so slightly against the lower underside of him, just to remind him that I was the one in control here. For a split second, I saw his face register this tiny pain which gave way to pleasure when I ran my tongue along the length of his dick, massaging the most sensitive spot near the tip. Then he was inside me up to his balls, deeper than I'd ever taken any man-but still not deep enough. I'd never really gotten off on giving head before-this is one area in which I'd always considered it better to receive than to give-but this time I wanted more of his beautiful dick deep in me, wanted to take it all the way down my throat, surrender to the gagging feeling. I moved my whole head, determined to make him let go, to cry out. He pulled at my hair, tugging it into little peaks and spikes, kneading my scalp, making me dizzy.

With a final tug on my hair, I felt his buttocks clench and knew he was at the point of no return. I gulped, wrapping my mouth around him as tightly as I could, and he threw his head back and let out a slow, low growl. I pulled back as he shot his spunk into my face, swallowing what I could and letting the rest trickle down my chin and into my cleavage. His hands were on my face again, mopping up the liquid and feeding it to me, forcing his fingers between my eager lips. Then he dropped to his own knees and pulled me to him, where we kissed until the chill of the night brought me back down to earth.

I pulled away with a shy smile and scrabbled for the clothes he'd removed in what seemed like another lifetime. I found my boots and tights crumpled in a pile of debris but couldn't locate my black panties. I turned to see my new lover holding them to his face and inhaling deeply. Then he smiled a heartbreaking smile and pocketed them with a wink.

"Will I see you again?" I asked, as his fingers stroked my face and kissed my salty lips with a tenderness that melted me. He nodded and smoothed my tangled hair.

"Are you ever going to speak to me?" I said, half-amused, half-frustrated that I still hadn't heard him speak. But he only smiled again. Confused, I gave him one final kiss good-bye, and then we parted as we'd come together, his finger on my lips, silencing me.

I left him in the half-finished foyer. On the way out, I caught sight of myself in the door: mad hair, bright eyes, flushed cheeks, covered all over in a chalky film of dust, and, oh, yes, a trace of semen on the corner of my mouth. I might have looked like a mess, but I'd never felt more alive or more beautiful. It was still only seven p.m. I walked home in the cold and dark of the early evening and spent the weekend torn between the joy of reliving that night in my head and the dread of it never happening again.

He must have worked all weekend, because when I went past the building site on Monday morning, it was no longer a building site at all. The tape was gone from the windows, the wires were embedded in smooth marble, and there were two potted bay trees on either side of the entrance, which gave the building an air of completion and inhabitancy. The construction firm's signs were gone and in their place was a polished brass plaque discreetly stating the residence of a firm of lawyers. To say I was disappointed was an understatement; I was horrified. I was filled with panic. Where was he? How was I going to see him again? Why hadn't I made him tell me his name? I didn't even know the name of the company he worked for. My mind went into free fall. I realized then that I never really believed the adventure had been a one-nighter but the start of something else. If only I'd known he was going away so soon, I wouldn't have showered, just to keep his smell on me. It was now clear that having experienced the real thing, fantasy would never again be enough.

By the time I reached my own workplace I was resigned to bitter disappointment and barely registered that the office was in complete disarray. Half the furniture was covered with plastic sheets, and my files were stacked in boxes on the other side of the room. I was not in the mood for this today. "What's going on?" I snapped at Zoe, my assistant.