Morning quickie

“What should I have you wear for me?!?” I wrote. I added, “I’m psyched to feel you.”

“Hmmm…. Good question…” Isabel replied. “And me too ;)”

Some hours passed. She wrote again, the subject line, “Isabel’s suggestion….” The text of the e-mail read, “A light-weight tank top. No bra – with underwear. If N. wants that….”

“N. likes the sound of that. And wants.”

There was a subsequent exchange about Isabel’s paranoia. She wanted me to be sure to be quiet, lest her neighbors, or landlords, know that she (gasp) sometimes has sex. Sometimes, I enjoy playing with, teasing her about, her paranoia. In this instance, I wasn’t so inclined. She does have to live there.

The morning of, there was another exchange: “Would you find something I can use as a blindfold, please? A scarf, perhaps?”


“Thank you. I’ll be there in ten,” I wrote. “After buzzing me in, please unlock your door, lie on your bed, legs spread for me, and play with yourself. After you blindfold yourself. ;-)”

“Yes thank you,” Isabel replied. “I’m pretty sure I’m already wet with anticipation…. Please lock top and bottom lock when you enter,” she added.

“Will do,” I assured her.

Ten minutes later, I entered her bright, cozy apartment. To my right was the hall leading to her bathroom, kitchen, living room. To my left, her bedroom. The bedroom door was open, and she lay on her bed, legs spread, in a thin pink ribbed silk tank top, and black cotton bikini briefs. And a black scarf covering her eyes. As she writhed in pleasure, playing with her pussy.

Her body is something to behold. She’s slender, curvy. Her breasts are full, her hips are full, her ass is round. Her hair is dark, shiny, straight/wavy. Her flesh is creamy, but on the white bedspread, she looked darker than she is.

I took my belt off, looped it around her neck. Tightened it. Just a little too much, she said. I loosened it. Just a tiny bit.

I sat on the bed and touched her thighs, softly. I stroked the seams of her bikini bottom. I pressed against her pubis. I removed her hand from her cunt, and I licked her pussy’s juices off of her finger, all while holding the belt strap in my hand, keeping it taught, reminding her, constantly, that her neck was encircled by leather, that I was applying just a little pressure.

I dragged the bikini bottoms off of her, and I very lightly exhaled on her pussy. I teased her clit, her lips, with my tongue, oh so gently. And then I dove in. I lapped her up, tasting her clean, sweet pussy, savoring the flavor as I focused on devouring her pleasure. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before she was writhing and giggling, as she does, when she comes.

I had her kneel on the edge of the bed.

I lay back. We kissed some more. I pushed her head down, toward my cock, and she hungrily licked it, sucked it, gripped it, as I drew the belt tighter. There came a moment where we heard her landlord, in the hall, talking to a neighbor. Neither of us said anything. She kept up her ministrations, her tongue swirling around my cock as she kept it engulfed in her mouth.

Isabel doesn’t like me to come in her mouth. When I was about to come, I said, “Ok….” She didn’t move. Did she not understand what I was saying? “I’m gonna come,” I said. And she lifted her head, gripped my cock hard with her hand, and continued stroking, jerking, as I shot cum on my belly.

We kissed a bit. She asked if I’d remove the blindfold. I didn’t answer. She leaned forward. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making it easier for you to remove the blindfold….”

I did as she wanted. As hot as it would have been simply to stand up and leave, with her still blindfolded on her bed, it felt better to have a few minutes of connection. We sat and talked as I dressed. About dating. About my body. About sex. About work.

I noticed the time, and realized I had to go. I stood up, packed up my stuff, and left her, thanking her profusely as she thanked me.

I got to the street, took out my phone to send an e-mail, and noticed that it was nearly ten minutes earlier than I’d thought it was.

“I forgot your clock is fast!” I wrote her.

“You can come back for 7 min…” she wrote.

I didn’t. But next time, I’ll definitely stay seven minutes longer.

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