“Next week is a problem. What with the Easter holiday, and family constraints and everything… we probably won’t be able to get together.”
So quoth Purrrrvert last time we were naked, as he lay holding me close, and stroking my skin. Somehow the setting took the sting out of the disappointment for me. i understand how time is constrained for him, as he well knows, because it is even more so for me.
I’ve written before of the joy of pampering ourselves with some extra, previously unplanned for time, and it happened again yesterday. His day freed up, for a couple of hours, so we made plans to meet “even for just a coffee”. As I’ve said to him on numerous occasions, while i love being with him and doing the naked D/s thing, and serving him as a good submissive girl should serve her Big Bad Feline Dom, I’m happy to just be in his company.
Beginning with a civilized and elegant lunch, in a quiet and romantic corner of a nearby restaurant. We sit, smiling happily into each other’s eyes. There’s a feeling of having foiled the plans of the outside world when we manage to meet in the middle of a working day. It’s not that we’re cheating anyone or sneaking away especially, but it *feels* illicit — and that gives the meeting an extra edge, a further thrill.
The list (you remember the list, the one on which needles were a no-no, never-never) comes up as a topic of conversation. We start going through the ratings that have changed of late.
“You know how you asked me whether i could come without being touched?”
“Well, I can’t, although if arousal counts for anything, I’ve soaked a couple of chairs through in my time.”
A snicker from the Big Bad Feline. I continue.
“What really interests me is arousing you, from afar… without my touching you. I’d like to try that — if you’re amenable..?”
He nods his assent, and then effects a quick subject-change.
“Can we go for a drive? Or do you have to rush back?” he asks me, as we vainly try to attract the attention of the waiter, who seems to have a problem with his peripheral vision, hearing and short-term memory.
“No, I’m OK for time… where would you like to go?”
Blue sparkling eyes twinkle at me over the pile of plates and culinary debris that once was lunch. “Just…. you know. For a drive. You never know what you might find on the way.”
My spine tingles, and i nod my ascent. We abandon all hope of getting our bill brought to us, and head for the cash register, where we are fortunate enough to be able to pay without too much hassle. This time it was my treat — and my pleasure.
Daintily stepping into his car, i tease him playfully. “You know, after mine yours is the messiest car I’ve ever driven in. It makes me feel right at home.” In reply, he stretches out his arm across the back of my seat entwines his fingers into my tousled mop of blonde hair — and pulls. Hard.
I squeal. With pure pleasure. He seems pleased, but not surprised.
The roads wind on and around, real country lane territory. Seizing the opportunity to further smoke the sparks of arousal that the hair-pulling caused, and extending the sensation of illicit and verboten behaviour of earlier, Purrrrvert’s hands (paws?) stray further and further into my territory. I lift my arm to grant him better access, as he slides his fingers ever-so-gently under the black lacy confines of my brassiere, and then pinches. Hard.
“We discussed grabbing the whole aureole, right?” he says, as he does exactly that and i yowl with pain-induced pleasure. I feel myself moisten alarmingly fast, and he seems to sense it too.
Them darn cats. Their sense of smell is unparalleled.
He drives faster down the lane, as i try to admire the surrounding scenery, failing dismally since all i can think of is my sopping wet cunt, and the bruised and squished state in which he has left my breasts. His hand has now dived between my thighs, and is squeezing my inner thigh.
I’m sighing, panting, and occasionally squealing. He makes me squeal a lot, I’ve noticed. I do not complain, I merely remark.
“You’ve done what you wanted to do,” he says.
“What was that?”
“I’m hard. And you’ve not laid a finger on me.”
I smile with pure pleasure.
“Give me one,” he murmurs seductively, as he turns off the main road, and his fingers probe further. He is deliberately not touching my clit, rather only in the area close enough to make me gasp and breathe rapidly.
“I– I’ll t–try,” I say, focusing on his hand on me, and then his lips on mine — and I get there, grinding my clit onto whatever is in the vicinity, and panting, squealing and eventually screaming my achievement.
When i open my eyes, i see that look on his face that I know so well, and find that is cock is on on display, proudly erect. I lean over and take him in my mouth, and return the favour with relish. He comes, clutching onto me, winding his fingers into my hair, with a joyous half-sigh, half-shout.
Leaning back and catching our breath, i giggle as something occurs to me.
“Hmmmmm?” he asks.
“I just thought of the perfect title for the blog post describing this.”