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The Position  

Coeus1967 57M
13 posts
4/16/2013 5:25 am
The Position


To date I have tended to use this blog to add opinion, vent and generally show off. Today I offer something different. For a couple of reasons I won't share (for now) I have been inspired to try a little contextual prose.

What do you think? Want to hear more?

The Position

Although not timid the knock is certainly tentative. Not surprising really considering the circumstances but it still makes him smile. He opens the door and there she stands. Dressed demurely – as he had requested – make up light but highlighting the deep blue eyes that had attracted him to her in the first place. He stands aside and she steps past him in to the room. With the door closed he leans towards her and kisses her on the cheek, his hand at first on her waist and then slipping downwards on to the top of her buttock. A gesture of possession that, although she instinctively tenses, she does not refute. His hand slides to the base of her back and he gently guides her in to the middle of the room.

Hotel rooms like this are a necessary evil. He had been in too many over the years – sometimes a place of rest, sometimes of solace, occasionally an escape and often, as this time, a location of convenience. This one isn’t too bad. It has that overly plush yet still crowded feel that a three figure a night price tag tends to entail. Before she arrived he had spent some time ensuring that the space available would be put to good use. The almost entirely useless “occasional table” and uncomfortable short chairs have been moved aside and the high backed chair from the desk moved in to their place in front of the window. Curtains open with bright sunlight as a backdrop.

Leaving her standing in the middle of the floor space at the foot of the bed he sits in the chair. He knows the visual effect this will create. In contrast to the sunlight he will be no more than a dark presence to her. She will need to open those wonderful eyes wide to try and focus on his features. She will be straining to observe him, trying to fathom his thoughts.

For the first time he speaks. “Take your dress off for me”. His voice is deep, sonorous, even, slightly hushed, again pulling her in to him, making her listen to his words attentively.

A brief moment of panic crosses her face. He suspects that she had thought he would uncover her and her choice of dress – with a high zip at the nape of her neck – will be difficult to open elegantly by herself. After a pause she reaches behind, a slight flush in her cheek, and manages the minor contortion required. She slips the dress off her shoulders, pauses and then, with a touch of self-consciousness allows the garment to slip to the floor.

He is pleased with what he sees. Again she has complied with his instructions well. Beneath the demure covering of the dress she wears what is obviously expensive lingerie. At its heart sheer black but covered in a trace of black floral pattern, the shape of the detail providing emphasis for her full breasts, the briefs providing their own emphasis. Her freshly shaved sex – another specific instruction – obvious yet still tantalisingly hidden.

She wears the lingerie well. He has a good impression of her physique from their previous meetings, has observed her grace, felt her firm, cared for body through summer dresses but he has never seen her this exposed before so his eyes linger. Taking in the rise of her breast, the gentle curves that define her femininity, her legs – encased in very sheer hold up stockings – rising from her once again expensive heels and giving her a borderline statuesque demeanour despite her relatively average height. The stockings were perhaps the one minor disappointment. His preference is for a more traditional form of hosiery management. As well as the obvious framing provided by a set of suspenders they avoid the pinching of the thighs that hold ups entail and also offer other, more prosaic, sensual options but this minor piece does not detract in any meaningful way from the whole presented to him.

He speaks again, this time a single word. “Exquisite”. The shy smile and almost<b> coquettish </font></b>glance this single word provokes almost makes him laugh out loud. By now she knows him fairly well. She knows what he appreciates. Her obvious pleasure in pleasing him is a joy but he refrains from breaking in to his suppressed grin – it wouldn't be appropriate.

He rises from the chair and takes the few steps required to walk past her, circling round to observe what he has not yet had the chance to see. Her generous, well-proportioned buttocks encased in the sheer black fabric, the graceful sweep of her spine, her bare neck, the downy hairs exposed by her pinned up hair. He trails his fingertips across her shoulder, the touch electric, visceral, proprietary. Turning his hand he follows the line of her back with the flat of his nails. Starting at the nape of her neck and oh so slowly moving down to her sacrum.

Again the word. “Exquisite”.

Moving closer to her, but still physically apart he speaks again. “Do you know what a stress position is?” Whether it is the incongruity of the question or simply the intensity of the moment the question seems to cause her some confusion. Her posture stiffens, her head begins to turn. He stops her with a touch on her chin.

“Stress positions are used by interrogators to create a sense of tension in their subjects that helps disorientate them and make them feel physically exposed. If used over a period of time they induce a high degree of discomfort and then pain but, for shorter periods they can – in my experience – have a very different effect that I enjoy.”

“Do you remember the word?” After a short pause she nods her affirmation. During their previous meetings they had discussed many things, found swathes of common ground and agreed the outline, though little of the detail, of what they are sharing. He had specified “the word”, a classical conceit – “Prometheus”, creator of man, thief, requiring sacrifice but still the champion of humanity.

“Good girl, now turn to me”.

Taking her gently by the hand he turns her to face a long, narrow mirror and encourages her to take a couple of steps towards it, stopping her about two feet away from the wall. Standing once again behind her he uses the toe of his shoe to indicate that she should open out her stance, gently cajoling her feet wider apart until she reaches a point where the position was quite unnatural but not in itself discomforting. Next he reaches down to take her hands, raising them up to above shoulder height and easing them towards the wall, either side of the mirror. As her body weight moves forward she naturally begins to move up on the balls of her feet, a position further amplified as he spreads her hands, now palms flat against the wall, higher and wider.

He steps back to admire his work to date. He looks with pleasure and the taut muscles in her calves, her impressively straight back, her splayed fingers and feels a sense of pride in her efforts. She isn’t taking any easy way out, she now understands and is committing herself to the act.

He begins to explore her body. Starting with his hands on the tense, dense muscles of her thighs he loses himself in the tactile pleasure of her form, moving up over her buttocks, testing their tensile strength that is accentuated by her unnatural position. When his hands move on to her waist and the base of her ribcage it is as if an electric charge shoots through her entire frame.

“Ticklish I presume”, he thinks, “that might be useful later”. Moving up he avoids her breasts and circles round her shoulder blades until he grasps the bunched muscles at the base of her neck. Slowly he begins to massage her straining form offering a minor relief from her increasing physical stress. In gratitude she begins to press her buttocks back in to him, craving more contact, yearning for things to come but the moment ends and again he moves away.

He speaks again, a calm, instructive tone. “With a female subject this particular position has some specific benefits. The first I suspect you may have already appreciated.” As the words come out of his mouth his hand slips between her legs, palm up, cupping her sex, feeling her warmth. Pulling back his hand he lets his fingers trace the shape of her, pushing gently through her briefs on the obvious gap engendered by the position she has adopted so willingly. She gasps, a moan percolated up from what seemed to be the depth of her soul but still she holds her stance.

“The other is less obvious”, he says. With these words he deftly unhooks her bra, its structure falling forward allowing her ample breasts to fall away from her ribcage. Reaching round he feels the full weight of her breasts with both hands, gently massaging and lifting them back in to her. Again a moan of pleasure, this time morphing in to something more guttural as he changes his grasp to allow him to apply equal and growing pressure to her full, erect nipples. This time the pelvic contact is initiated by him, pushing in to her, allowing her to feel is growing erection through her flimsy underwear and his suit trousers.

After what might have been seconds or could have been much longer he once again moves away this time sitting on the edge of the bed a few steps behind her. Again words, “you may relax and take off your bra properly but please continue to face the way you are”.

The release is obvious but, due to the length of time she has held the position there is some equally obvious residual tension – something else that can be attended to later.

From his position on the bed he looks her in the eye with the help of the mirrored glass. What he sees is a glint of pride that made his heart leap. She holds her head high, her hands loosely by her sides, no hint of self-consciousness now in being so exposed to him. He has always suspected she was special, now he knows his suspicions to be true.

Kicking off his formal shoes and removing his socks he stands again. “Do you know what comes next?”, again a nod of confirmation and consent. “Then come and assist me”. As she turns towards him he takes a cushion from the bed and drops it at his feet. As well as removing any uncertainty he now feels she deserves some consideration, the cushion serves both purposes.

She moves to him, her elegant fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt. Her eyes focussed on her task. He slips off his shirt and she, without bidding, drops to her knees on the cushion and kneels before him. She gazes up at him with those oh so beautiful eyes and releases his belt and suit trousers. With her fingers delicately looped in to the pockets she slides the trousers over his thighs and down his legs, her gaze still on his face, studiously avoiding what is directly in her line of sight.

As he steps out of the trousers she, almost sub consciously, gathers them up, stands – without requiring instruction – and turns to the chair in front of the window. She gently and neatly folds the trousers and bends forward at the waist to place them on the chair. As well as the natural act of service he is both amused and aroused by her rather obvious display of her firm buttocks and the now discoloured material enshrouding her sex. She may be compliant but she is also almost as carnal as he – something else to be exploited in time.

She returns to her place at his feet. Again no instruction is required, she slowly, very consciously pulls down his body hugging undershorts exposing his semi erect member, giving it no more than a passing glance despite its proximity to her face. She helps him step out of his underwear and then returns her gaze to his face, hands on her stocking clad thighs, shoulders relaxed, awaiting his will.

He smiles a patrician smile. “Take me in your mouth”, he instructs. Now the smile is hers, she lifts her hand towards him. “Stop! I did not ask you to touch me, I asked you to take me in your mouth”, his voice firmer with the barest hint of disappointment that she had made such an error.

Again a look of realisation of the task set her crosses her face. After a moment of contemplation she reaches her neck forwards and gently kisses the end of his penis. Tilting her head slightly she parts her lips and slides the tip of his manhood in to her moist, warm mouth. Straightening her head now that she has sufficient purchase she continues to slip his increasingly erect penis in to her mouth, gently using her teeth to hold back his foreskin, allowing the head of penis to push against the roof of her mouth, tasting his desire for her. Following instructions to the letter she continues until she can go no further and holds him in her mouth, waiting.

“Just think”, he says, his voice a touch huskier than before. “An hour ago you were awaiting my call, anticipating, and now here you are, almost naked and with my dick in your mouth. I too anticipated. You have behaved impeccably and look even more beautiful than I imagined. Perhaps we should see how many other ways there are that you can exceed my expectations”.

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