The Proxy
The birth of the Idea
I remember the exact moment, when the idea first slid, warm and throbbing into my consciousness and then bobbed to the surface like a buoy. You had just returned from another brutal grind of multiple cities and countries overseas. I hoped to offer you solace from the pace and sweet sanctuary from the demands of your position. The prescription, a weekend designed for rest and relaxation. Beginning our day at the local hot spring spa, we played in the mud, took the healing waters, melted under the perfect kneading of a couples massage and ended with an excursion on horseback through the vineyards. The miles of grapevines creating a thornlike path.
We drank more wine than we tasted. Holding hands, we watched the golden ball drop over the horizon; our skin still warm from the sensual kiss of the sun. Later, that night, we returned to our hotel room. Our spirits and libidos lifted by California wine, our bodies sanded smooth by the spa mud and minerals, our thoughts turned as is our usual, to the carnal and we engaged in playful conversation. Wine heightened, your face glowed with sexual anticipation. Pulling me into your embrace, we began the ancient dance of lips and tongues, a duel, the battling of slick spears, the taste of wine still in our mouths; a kiss sealing a promise of more wetness, warmth and pleasure.
You reached for me first, massaging my neck and back with oil warmed in your hands. The scent of lavender enhanced by my body heat covered me like a quilt, relaxing me as my body became softer and my muscles surrendered to your touch. Gentle kisses rained down my back like a soft summer shower, as you slowly slipped through my folds, inserting a questing finger into me. Your reward, a deep vibrating moan, followed by the delicate petal like muscles clutching at your finger, signaling the flowing of nectar. A second finger joined the first, transporting me to another plane of existence, a place inhabited by touch, taste and smell. I heard a voice speaking. Rising from the sex induced fog, drunk with pleasure, I realized it was me. In hushed tones, I whispered your name, again and again.
“Yes , that’s a good girl.”
My juices flowed down your hand, curling the hair at your wrist with each small tremor and contraction. You curled your fingers and brought new pressure and lightning to the fleshy, orange peel pad inside. I was suspended in the moment when it is almost too much, almost. But I feel that I would die if you stopped.
I thought,” The grapes and I are kindred, we both release our juice to the press. ” As I hung, helpless, impaled on your fingers and teetering on the edge of desire; you reached under me and with the precision of a diamond cutter, gently rolled the silken tenderness of my nipple between two fingers. My body exploded, shattering into a million pieces. I cried out once twice as I was swept away. Turning me onto my back you lowered your head to sip my wine and stayed with me until my body ceased the tremors and my legs stilled from their dance.
Gathering me up in your arms, as one would a child, İstanbul Escort you began putting me back together with the warmth of your embrace. Gently you kissed me, running your tongue inside my lower lip, catching my lip in a tender trap. It was in that moment, the sliver of time between ” La Petite Mort /the little death” and recovery that the idea was born. It was a concept born from gratitude; the seeds being planted in the afterglow of my orgasm.
You see, I understand you. I know that the passion you coax and wring from me, like many things in the world, comes with a price. You give up your pleasure, so that I may have mine. We are creatures of habit, responding to conditioned responses to stimuli. Your path is the way of the adventurer, cutting a broad swath through the jungle, chewing up the bounty of life, pushing the envelope and peeling back the layers to see what lies beneath.
Me… well, my path is more the garden path, lined with cool river rocks, clearly marking the way; preventing any unintentional straying. In truth, our paths should never have crossed, yet here we are. We find ourselves held fast; bound and lashed on the horns of a dilemma. Regarding me, you have great caring and attraction and I, you. But when our worlds collide; we find we are without a common language. So you who are multi-linguistic translate, but as always is the case, some things are lost in translation.
I think I understand why ,when I am not really your cup of tea, you are still interested. I’m intelligent and have held up pretty well over the years. All parts are original factory made and while not German engineered, they work with exquisite precision; as long as you know the correct buttons to push. I can discuss string theory, the latest medical research involving targeted therapies, the politics behind every conflict/war for the last 40 years and the social-psycho evaluations of serial murderers. We can watch a college basketball game, hockey, or football (Go Steelers) on TV and during the commercials, I well take you deep into my mouth, massage you with the squeezing of my throat while humming, if requested. My intellect and my libido are intact.
I’m really not the wild, pound- me- harder, spank-me- daddy type of gal; I prefer soft , sensuous ,teasing, languid lovemaking. Because a large part of my pleasure is giving you pleasure; we really haven’t been able to navigate the just out of reach foot and hand holds which would allow us to climb to the top of the wall and joyously ring the bell. You bring a bag full of techniques, a wicked tongue and fingers with the dexterity of a surgeon; but rarely do I feel that your passion is given free rein. There is the taste of a one, two, three choreographed danced; not the sweaty abandonment of a salsa.
Unfortunately, my attempts at guidance, probably feel more like criticism. ” Touch me here, not there, not so hard, more like this.” My hope is to give you a road map and not leave you to guess which paths to take. But, all mapmakers know , the map is not the territory and there is still plenty of room for discovery and Anadolu Yakası Escort wonders to be revealed.
Neither of us wants to walk away, I think, because we enjoy each other in every other arena. We cherish the rattle of newsprint, on a bright Sunday morning, walks on the beach, and the perfect pairing of early harvest olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
So perhaps I thought there may be an answer to our situation.
Location: Las Vegas
We’ve just finished showering together. You washed my back and then just to keep things symmetrical, you also washed my breasts. Cupping them gently in your soapy hands, you massaged them, as if they were as fragile as robin’s eggs. You touched me exactly the way I love, a barely there brushing against the tips. They hardened and poked into your palms. I leaned against you for support as my breath quickened, my knees weakened and my body poured out my gratitude like a fountain.
” Good thing we are in the shower, eh ” you chuckle. “Can’t take care of you properly in this hotel shower; we need to move to terra firma.” Somehow everything sounds sexier with your Australian accent.
Playfully, we dry each other off. You pay close attention to any cracks or crevices where moisture may be hiding. I stroke you slowly while attempting to dry off the rest of you with one hand. You are warm and firm, growing like an animal raising its head to sniff the air. Finally, you take the towel so I can devote both hands to the rhythm. One hand moves with a firm grasp sliding over the sensitive head while the other caresses the tender bag. You begin to kiss and nibble my neck blazing a trail of sparks to my breasts, while backing me toward the bed.
” Oh no you don’t! “I say.” I have a surprise for you.” Ducking out beneath your arms, I go to my overnight bag. Opening the zipper, I begin to bring out black lingerie, wispy and delicate as spider’s silk. Propping yourself up against the bed, you slip beneath the sheets, wearing a bemused smile, lust burning brightly in your eyes.
“La Perla” I say…for future reference.
As I remove each item, I present them to you for approval. First comes a lacy bra with sheer cups, followed by panties decorated with a satin bow on each side. Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, I display the garter belt “voila” and finally the shimmering, fine mesh stockings. Your hand slides beneath the sheet, to encourage your heat ” Oh this will be fun.”
Glancing at the clock near the bed, I grab the lingerie and a short black dress from a hanger and dart into the bathroom.
I hear a startled, “Hey, what about my surprise? “
” Patience,” I say through the door.
Just as I am finishing coating my lashes with mascara, there is a knock on the door.
“What the…” you begin.
“I’ve got it ,” I call as I come out of the bathroom, slipping on my 4 inch heels, you call my” stripper shoes” as I exit.
The look on your face is priceless. I’m clearly dressed to go out, but our plan had been to stay in. I open the door and step back to allow a young and very beautiful Üsküdar Escort woman to enter.
” Sweetie,” you begin, ” what’s going on?”
” Big Time , Please let me introduce you to …”
“My name is Tiffany,” she says with a half –smile that almost looks like she’s leering. Tiffany is gorgeous, with cascading chestnut hair flowing down her back past her very pert butt. We are polar opposites, she is light to my dark, tall to my being vertically challenged. Her body looks like skin poured over twisted steel, while I am softly padded(built for comfort not speed) and young about 35 years old, while I am more let’s say, ” seasoned.” I’m pleased; I’ve more than gotten my money’s worth.
“Well of course your name is Tiffany,” I say unable to hide my glee. “Tiffany meet Big Time. But you can call him Big.” Walking over to the bed, I kiss you sweetly on the top of your head.
Listen, I know that I don’t make you wild with passion. I know when a guy is hot for me; you are warm for me. But that’s okay. We are okay as lovers, but we will probably develop into better friends. In the meantime, I feel guilty about how we always do the things that I like. We are just on different wave lengths sexually, but I got this idea about how we could have some parity.
“Tiffany?” You say with a questioning look.
“Yes, ” I reply ” your surprise”. Turning to Tiffany, I ask,” So did you bring everything?”
She stoops to open the rolling case beside her. “I have…”
“Wait,” I interrupt, “please give me a minute and I’ll get my check list.”
The hotel pad is on the desk, I flip over a few pages. “Okay, let’s see if you have everything.” I begin to go through the list with Tiffany laying each item on the desk as I announce it.
“Flavored lotion, handcuffs, riding crop, ball gag, nipple clamps, paddles, studded collars and leash, cock ring, vibrators of various sizes, dildos ,again various sizes, frozen glass dildos, whips( various), blindfolds, wax, latex, rubber sheet, lubricant, magnum condoms and silken rope.”
” Sweetie?” This came out almost like a croak.
Smiling as I walk toward you I say, “Tiffany is my proxy. From now until 8am tomorrow morning you can engage in all the activities that I have no interest or desire to do. Correct me if I am wrong, Tiff. She is a switch and open to anal sex , double penetration( dildo and penis), spanking( giving and receiving) water sports, fire play, fisting, breast torture, rimming, hard pounding penetration, restraints, gagging and fishhooking . She is willing to accompany you to the lifestyle club of your choice ,but you will have to pay the entrance fee. Once there she will participate in any scenes that you desire including MFM, or FFM but anything beyond that you will have to negotiate and pay extra. Is that about right?”
” Right On, ” replied Tiffany.
“Where will you be?” you ask sheepishly.
Handing you two tablets of Cialis as I walk toward the door, I turn and say ” Me, I’m going dancing with my friends .I met them when I used to live in Vegas. See you both for breakfast, I’ve ordered a feast from room service; it should arrive at 9am. Time enough for you both to shower and dress. As for you Big, I thought we might catch a show and then you can tell me all about your night. Oh and there’s champers ( The Widow of Course) and snacks in the fridge.