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Vanilla

Bdsm

VanillaI’d never been one to believe that sex was necessarilybetter with people you were in love with.Sure, the idea was nice, and there was a little bit of thehopeful romantic even in me that hoped it was true. But Iwas also practical enough to know that you could havemind-blowing sex with people you weren’t madly in lovewith, or people you didn’t even like that much.Great sex doesn’t have to make sense.But I couldn’t understand why, when I finally foundsomeone I liked beyond breakfast, the sex wasn’tknocking my socks off.It wasn’t fair.He was just a little vanilla for my tastes.I was mad on Shaun, I admit it, could have let myselfgo plunging head over heels for him, but I’d always hadthat wild streak, that little kink, that stopped me letting go.That little bit of me saying that I’d get bored, that if westuck together sooner or later I’d be looking for moreadventurous partners (and probably breaking his heart inthe process), the part of me that said I’d be doing what Ialways swore I wouldn’t: settling.My ideal man meant ideal sex.Sure, he knew what he was doing, could work his waythrough the usual repertoire with no problems, couldfollow instructions and make me come easy enough, butthat was all.Maybe that was the problem – the usual repertoire.I usually preferred something a little different.He was a little too technical, always seeming to holdsomething back, no fire, no passion, no unique sellingpoint that made me think, hey, this one’s really good.So there we are, three months down the line, on a dirtyweekend in Amsterdam that really wasn’t that dirty.We weren’t doing d**gs, weren’t getting high andhaving giggly sex, weren’t exploring the red light district,weren’t taking the seediness of the city and twisting it intoour own sexual fantasies.The most excitement we’d had so far was spotting aman smoking in the Van Gogh museum and hissubsequent eviction.Maybe it was shyness, I thought, trying to give him thebenefit of the doubt. He was so funny, so cute, I liked him.But I was getting frustrated.Maybe there was an a****l hidden deep inside justwaiting to be released, but right then I was too irritable tocare.Sometimes a girl just needs a good fuck and shyness bedamned.I was fed up of fucking men I didn’t like, then finding aman I liked that I didn’t like fucking enough.It was so hot, and although I would have loved to sitdown in an air-conditioned bar or coffee shop, footballfever seemed to be sweeping the city. I had always hatedfootball, not even the sight of fit men in shorts being ableto sway my opinion, and knew I wouldn’t be able totolerate football supporters as they grew louder as they gotdrunk or high.My idea of fun was more cuffs and code-words thanwatching men chasing a ball for ninety minutes.Then we saw the Torture Museum.‘This looks a little different,’ I laughed, knowing thatalthough it wasn’t the sort of museum he’d had in mindfor this trip, he already knew I’d be a bitch if I didn’t getmy way.‘Sure,’ he nodded hesitantly, fumbling in his wallet fora handful of Euros; still fumbling by the time I tookcontrol and paid gaziantep escort for us both.Please God, let the fumbling be just nerves, I thought;please don’t let me be fucking a fumbler.Inside it was deserted, dark and cool, and I reached forhis hand as he followed me up the narrow staircase,feeling like a bitch as the air-conditioning hit me.The rack was first, and as he read the information boardaloud I studied the gruesome pictures, wondering whypeople would invent such a thing.Then there was the pear, and again he read theinformation aloud as I ran my hands over the structure,imagining the pain it could cause.The disturbing thought was lifted by the realization thatit looked similar to some of the stuff I’d seen in fetishclubs, the thought that some people had obviously foundmore pleasurable uses for it.There were many other devices I’d never heard of, andit made me smile as he paused by the scold’s bridle.‘I bet you’d love that, it would stop my moaning,’ Ilaughed, trying to let him know I realized I’d been actinglike a cranky bitch, trying to make him relax, hoping thatwould help things.‘It might help,’ he sighed, looking so despondent Icouldn’t help but go over to him, circling my handsaround his waist and standing on tiptoes to kiss his neck.I knew the effect it would have, knew his hot-spots sowell already, and knew that he’d probably tell me to stop,that there were people around, that we should behaveourselves.Instead he kissed me hard on the mouth, pulling mecloser, his tongue touching mine as he relaxed in a way Ihadn’t expected.Despite everything I felt a rush of excitement, felt theblood rush to my groin, my pulse quicken.‘I kind of like it when you’re moaning,’ he whispered,and there was no mistaking his meaning as he nuzzledagainst my neck, his breath hot on my skin, making mesigh in anticipation.Maybe there was hope after all, I thought.I pulled him closer, hooking my leg around him as Ifinally felt some passion, knowing that there was nobodyaround to see as I kissed him hard, tongues tangling as Ifelt him growing hard against me.I shifted slightly as he began to grind his cock againstmy stomach, trying to angle myself so he could rubagainst me. It didn’t work until he grabbed my hips, usedhis strong arm to lift me, rubbing his cock against myswollen lips. My skirt began to ride up, and his hands wentbeneath it to cup my arse, and I sighed loudly.Despite my need for something different it was I thatpulled away, flustered by the way he was taking control;by the way he was making me react.By the way my body reacted.‘You’re not playing now?’ he asked, grabbing me bythe wrist, holding me tightly.‘Maybe later,’ I replied, sure that later I would get tosee more of this passion, that finally I would be trulysatisfied.‘What’s wrong with now?’ he asked, pulling me closeragain. I tried to resist, knowing that I could easily getcarried away, but when he got close enough to kiss me heinstead laughed and stepped away.I stepped back, puzzled.‘Thought you liked playing games?’ he asked, smilingat my confusion.I blushed – I never blush – wondering whether hemeant what I thought, what I hoped, and how.I turned to the next exhibit, hoping to gain mycomposure while he examined it.Instead of reading the information aloud as before, hepulled his camera out of his pocket.‘Let’s get a picture.’‘Let’s not,’ I answered; I’d never enjoyed having myphoto taken.I expected him to agree, to submit to me as usual, butinstead he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me closer tothe exhibit. Instead of pulling away, I had to admit it was aturn-on as I submitted docilely to his demand, and let himbend me over and position me in the stocks so my wristsand neck were caught firmly between the pieces of thickwood.‘One for the mantelpiece,’ I tried to laugh, but mymouth was dry and my laugh high-pitched and false as hefastened it securely, so I was completely trapped.The thought turned me on.I’d always enjoyed being submissive, and I was alreadyso horny, my clit felt swollen and throbbing before he’deven touched me.The thought of being so publicly exhibited only servedto turn me on further.I smiled as he took the picture, then the flashmomentarily blinded me.When my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could nolonger see him.‘Shaun?’ I called quietly, wanting to know where hewas, but not wanting to attract the man who’d sold thetickets’ attention, not wanting him to find me like this,bent over with my arse in the air, wearing my little denimskirt that covered very little, trapped.To find me bound and horny.Despite that, I felt myself getting wetter.I heard movement behind me, but couldn’t turn myhead to see who it was.‘Shaun?’ I asked again, but when I got no reply I fellsilent.Then I felt hands touch my waist.Immediately I knew it was Shaun, knew that I wasfinally going to get something a little less vanilla, and feltmy cunt flood with anticipation.I felt his hands pull at my skirt, leaving it bunched uparound my waist, exposing my almost bare arse, mypanties so small they were almost non-existent.For a moment there was nothing, and all I could hearwas my breathing, getting heavier and faster as I waitedfor him to touch me, wanting it so much.I’d never been hornier.And then he touched me.His hand stroked across my arse, slowing as it reachedthe crack, a finger teasing around my anus, my pantiesproviding no resistance to the intrusion.Not that I wanted them to.I moaned softly.I pushed my arse higher, calves straining as I stood ontiptoe so I could part my legs further, wanting him tomove his attention to my swollen clit.‘Please,’ I begged, hearing his breath quicken with mypleading request.I knew he was as horny as me, but he continued teasingme.Gradually his hand moved forward, finally stroking myclit through the already sodden fabric.He hooked his fingers around the sides of my thong,pulling down the flimsy material, and I lifted my feetwillingly to step out of it.I was totally exposed, totally trapped, anyone couldhave walked into the museum and seen my naked cunt andI couldn’t have moved, but I didn’t want to stop.I heard a zip, then a rustling of material, then his handswere holding my hips as he stepped closer.I felt his cock against my bare arse, the tip hot, hard andsticky, and he used his knee to part my legs further, thenthrust deep inside me.He felt expert at it, filling me up then pulling outcompletely, made me feel like I was nothing but gapinghole and swollen clit. I wanted him to touch me so much,wished my hands were free so I could touch myself as hemoved so slowly inside me.But I was trapped completely.‘Touch me,’ I moaned, but instead of touching my clithis hands roughly pushed up my shirt, pushed up my braand rubbed my nipples roughly as he started to movefaster inside me.‘No,’ I moaned, wanting to protest more loudly, butknowing that someone could easily hear me and come toinvestigate. I tried to move away from him, tried to pullaway from his cock, but it was useless; I was completelyvulnerable like that and unable to move.The thought made the juices rush down my thighs, andit was his turn to sigh loudly as he felt it.‘Say sorry,’ he whispered, moving a hand away frommy breasts and finally sliding it between my slick andswollen lips.‘What?’ I asked, moving my hips desperately, trying tomake him touch me.‘Say you’re sorry for being such a moody bitch,’ hedemanded, fingers teasing my clit, cock thrusting deepinside me.I would have said anything then, anything to make mecome like that.‘I’m sorry,’ I apologized, but it wasn’t good enough.‘Say it all,’ he demanded, his fingers slowing. ‘Or youdon’t get to come.’His cock moved faster as his fingers moved furtheraway from my clit.‘I’m sorry for being such a moody bitch,’ I apologized,and at last he touched my clit. His fingers were firm andsteady, caressing my clit with long slow strokes, his cockbarely moving inside me then as I knew he was close.I heard the door open below us, and although I knew Ishould be insisting Shaun release me, let me tidy myselfup, I said nothing, the thought of someone being nearturning me on, and as Shaun rubbed harder, thrust harder,I knew he felt the same. Seconds later I came hard,grateful for Shaun still holding me up as my knees wentweak, and seconds later Shaun came hard, holding myhips so tightly his fingers left distinct bruises.But, right then, I felt nothing but excitement.He pulled away quickly and pulled my skirt down, butstill left me in the stocks.A middle-aged couple came wandering in, and pausedto read the information board.The man looked at Shaun, looked at me, then winkedbroadly at Shaun.‘This sure has some potential,’ he said, his Americanaccent strong.His wife swatted at him. ‘Not everyone thinks likeyou!’Shaun took another photo, pretending we were stillposing.And all the time spunk was dribbling down my thighs.‘Will you take a photo of us?’ he asked the couple,passing his camera over to the man as he stood by me.Afterwards they left, and Shaun at last released me.I rubbed at my neck and wrists, sore from having beenin bondage so long.‘Ow,’ I moaned. ‘That hurt.’‘Are you being cranky again already?’ he asked.I raised an eyebrow, thinking where being cranky hadjust got me.‘Maybe.’He smiledThe photo’s still on the mantelpiece now.And now you could never describe Shaun asvanilla…………

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