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Something for the Weekend: Wednesday on Thursday

This weekend, I’m tempting you with an extract from my sexy word based novella, Wednesday on Thursday 

#somethingfortheweekend 

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

Extract from Wednesday on Thursday

… Wednesday had selected her clothes with more care than usual. She told herself she was wearing her best underwear because it gave her more confidence. It was absolutely not because she’d spent a largely sleepless night dreaming of the coffee guy’s expression as he ran his shrewd gaze over her jet black satin bra with matching knickers.

With one extra button open on her shirt, Wednesday left her flat, raking her hand restlessly through her long chestnut hair. She kept telling herself that he was just a bloke who got off on the power of making her feel sexy. That was perfectly all right by her, because he clearly had no intention of doing anything beyond titillating her imagination.

Wednesday had experienced her fair share of relationships during her twenty-nine years, but no-one had ever managed to arouse her with a single glance before.

‘For goodness sake, woman, you don’t even know his name!’ Even though she kept trying to talk sense into herself, the four hours until lunchtime couldn’t pass fast enough.

By the time her break finally arrived, Wednesday thought her heart was going to thud right through her chest with nervous tension. Walking into the café, she was more than usually aware of the sound of her heels clattering across the wooden floor.

Wednesday forced herself not to look for him, to just queue up for her latte and toasted sandwich as she always did. Even though she managed to prevent herself from obviously surveying the busy room, she covertly hunted for him nonetheless.

He wasn’t there. A sensation of disappointment gripped her. She felt stupid; humiliated even. But only briefly.

There was an envelope on her regular table.

Sitting down with her food and drink, Wednesday gaped at the cream coloured envelope. Her name was written in clear script across its front.

Wednesday took a soothing sip of her drink as she wondered if the coffee guy was hidden nearby. She had an uneasy feeling that, if he was secretly observing her, he’d be getting off on watching her reactions. Struggling to steady her erratic breathing, Wednesday was more than a little aware that her tits were doing their best to burst through their satin holster.

Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope.

The words had an instant impact on her internal temperature gauge. Wednesday’s body began to alternate between flushing with heat and shivering with cold, as if she was getting a fever and a chill at the same time.

Dear Wednesday,

Forgive my rudeness for not having properly introduced myself before now.

My name is Lucas.

I will be blunt. I find you fascinating, and would like to make love to you. I would like to say my intentions are honourable, but they are not. They are lust-driven, and I feel it only fair you know that from the start.

If you are interested in knowing more, then please come to the address below once you have consumed your toasted sandwich. If you choose not to visit, then I will leave you in peace from this moment forward.

Whatever your decision, I would prevail upon you to keep this correspondence private.

Flat 1.

56 Chambers Way.

Regards,

L x

P.S. I apologise for the coffee incident. I trust I did not damage you. I will make the sincerity of my regret known to you should you decide to be my guest.

Wednesday didn’t finish her lunch.

Her legs had started taking her in the direction of Chambers Way without bothering to ask the rest of her if it was a good idea or not.

She knew the address.

The building, a private block of flats, was only two hundred metres from the office block where Wednesday had been employed as an administration clerk for the past two years.

Knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what was within Flat 1, with her pulse racing, Wednesday hovered outside a dark green front door.

A door that led to Lucas and whatever he planned to do by way of an apology.

Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Wednesday knocked twice…

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Happy reading,

Kay x

Something for the Weekend: Not Her Type

It’s time to enjoy some weekend smut.

This week I’m sharing the beginning of my hot delivery man erotica,

Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man

(copyright- Kay Jaybee and 1001NightsPress)Not Her Type

Tuesday – It Begins

What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.

“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him.

His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.

Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.

Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.

Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body.

As soon as their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke, “I’m sorry Jen. I don’t like just walking out on you, but I have to go. I’m behind with my rounds.” Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that he’d return the following week.

The living room seemed so large, so empty once John’s bulky frame had gone. Stunned and disheveled, Jenny stared at the space around her as delayed shock kicked in.

How the hell had that happened?

 It had been years since Jenny had had sex. Twelve years, in fact; if you discounted one brief and unsatisfactory encounter that occurred three years ago. That was four thousand, three hundred, and eighty days of a self-imposed embargo after one-too-many broken hearts. She had survived by surrounding herself with friends, reading hundreds of erotica books, and giving in to countless masturbation sessions. But now, out of nowhere, right in the middle of her lounge,  , when she should have been sitting at her little desk checking other peoples’ accounts, she’d been thoroughly and expertly fucked.

Standing perfectly motionless, and very aware of her pulse pounding against her chest in the eerie quiet, Jenny tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. How their usual coffee break, with each of them sitting on either side of her dining table, had developed into a semi-naked romp on the sofa.

John had been in her home for only thirty minutes, and twenty of those had been spent discussing the DVDs that he’d come to deliver, just as he did every Tuesday. Then, he’d said something about how much he enjoyed their weekly chats, how hers was the only home where he was received as a friend, and how he always felt strange leaving her without so much as a hug.

Thinking back, trying to make sense of it all, Jenny thought that perhaps she’d laughed nervously when he’d said that, and told him she’d liked their “putting the world to rights” time as well.

That was when he’d actually hugged her for real, and she’d looked up into his wide, dark brown eyes and, in all of her thirty-three years, she had never felt a twist of lust like the one she felt then. It had burnt into her like some sort of erotic radiation.

How did I not see that coming? How bloody naive have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.

Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.

She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.

As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.

Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?

“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!

***

If you want to know what happens next (and I can promise you one hell of a kinky ride), you can buy Not Her Type in either eBook or paperback form from….

Links-

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345730&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+TYpe+kay+jaybee 

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345892&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+Type+kay+jaybee

1001 NightsPress- http://1001nightspress.com/#!/page_KayJaybee

Happy reading!!

Kay

Something for the weekend: A Kink a Day Book Four

This week I’m sharing something from the final anthology in my #AKinkaDay #series-

A Kink a Day-Book Four.

Why not settle down for a sexy read with #somethingfortheweekend?

Here’s an extract from the first story in the collection – Brick Dust.

‘Tell me. What else did he want to do to you?’

‘He…’ A layer of dry dust landed on Liza’s lips, making it difficult to reply.

‘Come on girl. We’ve got you this far, and hell; you don’t half look good.’

Liza could sense Mick’s urgency. Before he’d tied her up his tone had been methodical and controlled. Now, as the quarry foreman towered over Liza, observing her as she discovered what it really meant to be spread-eagled, naked, exposed, and vulnerable, his Praetorian accent crackled with barely suppressed lust.

‘He…’ She licked her lips, tasting stone grit on her tongue, ‘…he wanted to force me into begging to be fucked.’

With her arms at right angles to her body, and her wrists and ankles roped to parallel winch shafts, Liza had the strangest idea that she must look like an open pair of scissors.

After accepting the temporary job as administrator at the South African sandstone brick quarry, Liza’s main worry had centred around coping with the extreme heat after years of living on the cool English coast.

Once she’d arrived however, Liza had moved on from considering how she would keep cool to how she’d manage to keep her hands off her boss. Within half an hour of meeting Mick, Liza had been fantasising about what it would be like to sit on his lap; slowly rising her arse up and down, as her body engulfed his thick, solid cock…

That afternoon, sat at office desks, Liza had been struggling to coat the back of her neck with sun cream, and Mick had offered to help.

If Mick had stopped applying the lotion once he’d covered her neck, then perhaps nothing would have happened. But Liza hadn’t wanted him to stop. She’d daydreamed so often about the site foreman giving her a more thorough lotioning than was strictly necessary, she hadn’t complained when Mick lifted her vest top over her head and began to anoint the rest of her back.

It was only when Mick moved to her front, that the reality of discovery had invaded Liza’s brain. The idea that someone could walk into their office had dragged her fantasy fuelled imaginings from the tug Mick was creating at her crotch, and caused her to defensively cover her white bra with her hands.

‘What is it with you?’ Mick sat back, more amused than annoyed. ‘One minute you’re asking me to run my hands all over that hot body of yours, and the next you’ve gone cold. Who you hiding from?’

‘What makes you think I’m hiding? I just don’t want anyone to walk in and see me with your paws all over my chest.’

‘Come off it. You’re hiding. Why else would you be working in the middle of nowhere for six months when you could be running some nice clean company back home.’ Mick winked at Liza, the fact she hadn’t complained about his hands being on her tits silently hung in the air between them.

‘Anyway, you’re not the first. Nearly everyone who takes your job is avoiding something somewhere else. What’s your excuse for turning up here? Not just to give me wank dreams surely?’

Perversely pleased that she’d been having as much an effect on Mick as he had on her, Liza gave him a half smile. ‘You wank about me?’

‘Believe it. You’ve done some unbelievable things in my head.’

It was no good pretending she didn’t fancy Mick. It was obvious. The white cotton of her bra was thin, and the poke of her nipples was undeniably visible. Letting her hands drop from her breasts, Liza asked, ‘Such as?’

‘You want to know what we do together in the privacy of my head.’ Mick’s lips curled at the edges, his chocolate eyes challenging. ‘Thirty seconds ago you were little miss shy?’

‘I want to know.’

‘Then you have to tell me why you’re here.’ The foreman took a step closer to his assistant, his half open shirt hinting at the dark work-honed chest beneath. ‘Do we have a deal?’

Taking a swig from her water bottle, Liza stared back at Mick. ‘Deal. But you have to talk first.’

Mick placed a calloused palm on Liza’s shoulder.  ‘How brave are you?’

Liza swallowed, ‘Oh I’m brave.’ She paused, before adding, ‘Although not as brave as my ex-boyfriend wanted me to be.’

‘Is that so? And is how brave he wanted you to be something to do with why you’re here?’

Perspiration began to dot the back of Liza’s neck. ‘The deal was that you’d go first.’

Liza’s pulse raced with a mix of fear and excitement. Her body badly wanted Mick, but suddenly he seemed potentially more dangerous than the man she’d left behind. The man who had become so relentless in his physical demands that he’d begun to bore her as well as disturb her; prompting her to take an impromptu overseas career break.

‘Alright.’ Mick pushed his chest against Liza’s as she perched on the edge of her desk. ‘For a start, you always appear in my imagination with no top on. Your tits are free. Naked. Tight.’

Liza felt as though she was being hypnotised by his words. She was watching his lips move, her own imagination miles ahead of him, picturing Mick’s fist around his cock, pleasuring himself as he contemplated her breasts. Breasts which he was now releasing from their bra holster.

‘Often your nipples are in my mouth. I lick them, bite them, and suck them.’

Liza could picture the scene he was creating so vividly that she had to stop herself from asking him to suck them there and then.

Keeping his eyes fixed on her ample chest, Mick’s hands caressed her bare arms as he went on. ‘Sometimes I imagine you begging for me to touch your breasts. I get off on your frustration. On making you wait. You’re longing for something that is only in my power to give as you lay, totally naked, spread eagled…’

Liza shivered as Mick stressed the last words. He spoke more deliberately now, and their eyes locked. ‘…and you are tied outside, to the sandy ground…’

She froze, whispering, ‘But that’s what he wanted.’

‘He?’…

***

If you enjoyed that, you can buy A Kink a Day- Book Four via…

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

You can find the other ebooks in the A Kink a Day series here – mybook.to/AKinkaDayTrilogy

Happy reading,

Kay x

Something for the Weekend: Knowing Her Place

This week, I’m sharing an extract from the third novel in my ‘The Perfect Submissive’ trilogy – Knowing Her Place.

Blurb:

Full of unanswered questions after her erotic fairytale experience at The Retreat in Scotland, Jess Sanders is desperate to return to her submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire.

Having been thwarted in his plans to keep Jess, The Retreat’s owner, David Proctor, isn’t willing to let her go without sending the so-called ‘perfect’ submissive on one final mission. Only if Jess succeeds in the task he sets her, will Proctor remove the collar of servitude he has locked around her neck.

With a list of five unfamiliar addresses to hand, Jess is placed in a car and driven away from The Retreat towards England. With no idea of what, or who, awaits her at each location, all Jess can hope for is that the journey will eventually take her back to where she belongs.

To the fifth floor of the Fables Hotel, where Miss Jess Sanders truly knows her place.

***

Here’s an extract from the very beginning of Chapter 1…

Miss Jess Sanders fingered the cream envelope she clutched between her fingers. The paper was damp, its previously crisp edges tattered and limp from where she’d been gripping it so tightly.

Her right hand came to her throat. Gingerly, Jess fingered the black leather collar that spanned her neck.

Every part of her ached.

Sitting in the rear of a very comfortable, chauffeur-driven BMW, Jess couldn’t even face glancing out of the window. The journey from the North East of Scotland to wherever it was she was being taken in England seemed to be taking forever.

Only a few hours earlier, Jess had been working at The Retreat, providing submissive services at a business launch party, where 150 delegates from the Fairtasia adult comic production company had explored every inch of her body. Reclining against the leather seat, she closed her eyes. She could still feel the imprint of each hand, tongue, breast and cock that had come her way. Her stomach churned with nerves, anger, fatigue, and her body’s treacherous and constant need for more sex.

Seven months ago, Jess had no idea she was a born submissive.

Six months ago, after becoming bored with a succession of temping jobs, she’d applied for the position of booking clerk at the Fables Hotel in Oxford, landed the post, and her life had changed beyond all recognition. From being a single girl, with a lacklustre sex life and no partner, Jess had become the resident submissive on Fables’ fifth floor. A place which, under the iron management of the very dominant Mrs Peters, provided a special service for adults who wished for their ultimate sexual fantasies to come true without fear of judgement, and in perfect safety.

Initially Jess had been horrified at how well, and how quickly, she’d adapted to this new subservient lifestyle. A lifestyle Mrs Peters had spotted she was suited to long before Jess herself had any idea. But just as she’d settled into her new life and work regime at the hotel, Jess had found herself uprooted.

One of Fables’ most demanding clients, Mr David Proctor, had persuaded Mrs Peters to lend him Jess, along with her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to help him and his manageress, Dr Ewen, set up his own Fables-style establishment in a remote part of Scotland – The Retreat.

Jess and Miss Sarah had been told they were being lent to Proctor to teach his staff the art of submissive behaviour. The reality of the situation, however, hadn’t been quite so straightforward.

Running her little finger along the outer edge of the collar for a second time, Jess fought back the constant reflex to choke. It was so tight. There was no way it could be cut free without damaging her skin.

David Proctor had forced Jess into his collar, declaring her his property unless she proved herself worthy of release. He was the only one with a key to the little silver padlock that held it together at the front of her neck. Even if she did manage to prise the leather free somehow, as the car left the never-ending A9 that tracks the east side of Scotland and joined the motorway, Jess could hear Proctor’s warning words echo in her ears when she’d threatened to call Mrs Peters …

“If you call her, that collar is never coming off. There is only one key and I have it. And before you think it can be cut off, it can’t be done. Not without hurting you. Anyway, if you did get it cut off, you’d have failed, and part of you would always remain mine. I can’t see Mrs Peters liking that very much; can you?”

Jess hated that he was right. Her boss wouldn’t have liked it all. She tried to tell herself that Mrs Peters would come to her rescue – but she physically and mentally shrank back from wondering what the cost of making such a request of the Fables’ mistress would be.

Unbidden, her mind slipped from thoughts of her boss to Miss Sarah. She tried to ignore the increase in her pulse rate, and the automatic swell of her breasts that the image of the tall, slim, demanding dominatrix always caused. For a split second, while they’d been together at The Retreat, Jess had begun to hope Miss Sarah cared for her a little beyond the requirements of work.

Jess knew, although she would never have been foolish enough to say so out loud, that she had formed a strong emotional attachment to the woman who dominated her body day after day in the pursuit of other people’s pleasure. Sometimes she trusted that her personal feelings towards her mistress were genuine but, on other occasions, logical thought took over. She told herself, for the umpteenth time, as she looked out in the night, that she’d probably adopted some sort of warped Stockholm Syndrome feeling to Miss Sarah; like a victim falling for her kidnapper.

It had been Miss Sarah who Mrs Peters had ordered to train Jess when she’d first joined the team at Fables. A training which had included a vigorously kinky, and highly effective, exercise routine that gave Jess immense stamina, teaching her how to remain motionless for prolonged periods of time, and how to delay an orgasm for as long as humanly possible.

At first, Jess had been terrified of Miss Sarah. She’d suspected the dominatrix resented her arrival, especially when Mrs Peters began to refer to Jess as her “perfect submissive.” This was a title Jess now understood had been designed precisely to provoke her, and force her to work even harder for fear of not living up to her requirements. It had nothing to do with Mrs Peters thinking Jess was good at her job –although Jess hoped she did.

But she sent you away … Jess shook her head sharply. Mrs Peters couldn’t have known Proctor had planned to keep her all along. She couldn’t possibly have been in on this from the start. Her boss had been conned by Proctor. They’d all been conned…

****

Knowing Her Place follows on from The Fifth Floor and The Retreat.

Available from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Smashwords

Happy weekend reading,

Kay x

Something for the Weekend: Equipment

For this week’s  #somethingfortheweekend, I thought I’d share a little from my erotic romance /BDSM romance collection: Equipment and other stories

Equipment

Blurb

To his lust driven delight, Lee Cooper’s opinion that his girlfriend simply doesn’t have the Equipment to take control in the bedroom is quickly and deliciously.

Meanwhile, Kim is sick of her gorgeous neighbour Jack bringing home a non-stop string of unsuitable women to screw, while completely failing to notice the girl right under his nose. Taking extreme measures she sets out to prove she is more than just The Girl Next Door.

Mark’s girlfriend is Searching For Her– the perfect woman to make her lover’s dreams come true. A quest which leads her into the path of more than one willing young lady…

****

Here’s an little snippet from Equipment to ease you into the weekend…

The moment I saw his naked arse, I knew that I wanted to fuck it, and I told him so. It was the first time I’d seen Lee Cooper unsure of himself. For a split second a veil of uncertainty, possibly even fear, had crossed his generally ultra-confident square features. It didn’t last though, and he was soon shrugging my statement off with a lad-ish laugh, ‘you ain’t got the equipment baby,’ as he eased his solid cock into my willing body.

I started working part-time at the garage, where Lee is employed as a mechanic, three months ago. The first thing he said to me, as his clear brown eyes appraised my slight frame and red plaited hair was, ‘I’m looking forward to pulling on those pigtails honey.’ From anybody else I wouldn’t have taken a comment like that, but somehow from Lee it was okay. He exuded a sort of sexual confidence, and the instant and silent knowledge that eventually we would fuck radiated from his every pore. It would have been foolish of me to deny that unspoken understanding, and I privately looked forward to the day I’d discover if the tattoos that adorned his muscular arms, extended to his chest and down his legs.

That was three flirtatious months ago, and it had been fun letting the erotic tension build between us, getting more intense as the weeks of inaction ticked by, but finally, Lee’s resolve had broken. He told me, as he hammered an impatient fist on my front door during his lunch hour, that he’d been changing the oil in a beat-up old motorcar, when he’d realised he couldn’t hold on another moment.

After the glorious frisson of the wait, there was always the risk that the reality wouldn’t live up to the expectation. I hadn’t been disappointed however, far from it.

I smiled to myself as Lee dragged his grubby boiler suit back on, and disappeared down my garden path at a run. His words echoed in my head, “You ain’t got the equipment baby.” A wicked twinkle began to shine in my eyes at the prospect of what lay ahead for the unsuspecting mechanic, and speaking across the empty room, I said, ‘Well actually Mr Lee Cooper, I have all the equipment we could possibly need…’

The thought of his tight arse, of claiming it as my own, of taking control of Lee for a while, and perhaps robbing him of a portion of his macho-attitude, grew within me, and I began to lay plans for the temporary domination of this alpha-male.

On Lee’s next visit, predictably the following lunchtime, I embarked on a mission to both enjoy myself, and to lull him into a false sense of security, neither mentioning how delicious I found his backside, nor my eventual intentions for it. As his calloused hands made their way over my naked chest, pinching my nipples with exquisitely painful squeezes, I groaned with genuine pleasure. Stroking the beautifully toned body that pushed against mine, I relished the sight of the tanned multi-tattooed chest I’d so recently discovered.

It was on Lee’s fourth visit that I kept my hands exclusively on his backside. Patting it gently, smoothing it, and caressing it, in a totally non-threatening way, as my new lover pumped himself swiftly in and out of me.

On the fifth visit Lee announced he’d had a dream about tying me up. His face, when I told him that he could do just that, was a picture. I’m not sure if he was more turned on by the fact he could do anything he liked to me, while my hands were secured behind my naked back, or by the feeling of power my helplessness gave him. I suspect the latter. As Lee’s warm tongue explored my stomach, and ducked skilfully between my spread legs, I wallowed submissively in the blissful feelings that engulfed me.

During visit number six, a rare after work encounter, while Lee was both fucking and smacking my arse with stingingly wonderful efficiency, the last few parts of my plan fell into place, and I knew that my need to take his firm neat backside was reaching the point of obsession.

A little over two weeks after Lee had first turned up on my doorstep, I decided the time had come to act. Laying out my sex toys in a neat row near my pillow, I hid them from view with my duvet. Removing the clutter of clothes from the battered old armchair I keep in the corner of my bedroom, I adjusted its position so that it was at the foot of the bed. Then I took off my regular jeans and t-shirt, and put on my tight black Lycra bodice and matching knickers. The caress of the clinging material against my flesh was enough to increase my pulse-rate, and boot-up the arousal I had been so carefully keeping in check.

Lee’s distinctive knock on the door came at almost exactly seven o’clock as we’d arranged. I smiled quietly to myself at his promptness and, wrapping myself in a black silk robe, descended the stairs to collect my unwitting victim.

‘Wow babe,’ his appreciative eyes ran over my robed frame, ‘like the silk.’ He reached forward, and I allowed Lee to engulf me briefly in his arms, his stubble scratching my cheeks as his mouth came to mine. Then, I broke away from his magnetic warmth, holding him at arms length.

‘You like what you see?’ I grinned at Lee, my green eyes reflecting into his brown ones, ‘you want to see more?’…

****

If you’d like to find out what happens to Lee next, you can buy Equipment from all good e-retailers- including…

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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