Sorry The Ending

He pushed her onto the bed and kissed her deeply. While she was distracted kissing him, he worked her shirt up her body. He groped her breasts roughly pulling her nipples.

She moaned into his mouth and arched her hips into him. "More," she muttered.

He stopped playing with her and pushed her hips down. Then he pulled back from her. "Stay."

She looked at him, her hands raised, arms framing her head. The shirt at her elbows holding them captive.

He disappeared from view. She closed her eyes, biting her bruised lips. Her breasts ached for more of the rough pleasure he had tormented them with. moments before.

She felt him climb back on the bed. She didn't bother opening her eyes. She waited quietly to feel what he was going to do next to her. Stupid word that "sorry" business. She was always saying sorry for something and he was always telling her to stop. But she never listened. And only occasionally did she pay for it.

He kissed her again, one hand twisting her wrists until they were crossed. She opened her eyes slightly and looked at him. Super close up, as he was biting her bottom lip.

She winced and pulled back. He let go slightly and kissed her again. She felt the rope wrap around her wrists, around and around. He stopped kissing her and pulled back to tie the loops he had made.

Standing up, he surveyed his handiwork. She judged from his smile that he was pleased with himself. She smiled back, her body trembling as she waited for his next move.

He pulled off her skirt, running his hands down her leg. He rubbed her pussy between her legs until she moaned and moved her hips against him.

"Now, I think we are ready."

She didn't say anything. She watched him cross the room and open the closet. He put the small suede flogger, bamboo cane, and the cat. The last implement he laid on her made her tremble.

He sat down beside her and fingered each as he watched her. She was chewed her bottom lip, trying to judge what he had planned.

Finally, seemingly hours later, he put the cat and cane to the side. He held the flogger above her, twisting it in his hands.

She swallowed hard and tensed her body, waiting.

Finally he brought the lashes down against her thigh, enough to sting, enough to make her wince a little. He hit her again and again, a little harder each time, making her wince. Up and down her thighs, until she was reddened a little all over her thighs.

Warmed up, she noted, shifting her body position.

She closed her eyes momentarily to keep them from drying up. She was pretty sure she hadn't closed them through the whole process. While she had them closed he brought the whip down against her breasts, over her nipples. She cried out, as her body convulsed and her eyes flew open.

He was smiling. She met his eyes, they danced with hers, as he brought it down again over her, with similar result.

"Count," he instructed.

The first five were easy to get out. Seven through ten left her gasping between hits. And by the time he was at twenty she was shouting the numbers and panting.

He put the flogger down on the bed and sat beside her. He stroked her lashed breasts, and she winced and tried to turn away from him.

He pulled her back and stroked her hair.

"I am."

"You are?"

"Sorry. Mostly."

He shook his head. "I think it's better if you didn't talk. You'll just incriminate yourself again." He picked up the flogger and rolled it against her stomach.

It Only Gets Better

This is from a longer piece I'm working on about a couple that has been together for 30 + years. Mainly told in flashback memories as they close on their 30 wedding anniversary.

Later that night when everyone was gone, they sat in silence for a while. He reached for the remote and turned the television on. "News time."

"I'll go to the bedroom and read for a bit."

When he came into the bedroom, she sat on her edge of the bed. She wore a strapless red nightgown. He knelt behind her on the bed and kissed her shoulder.

She reached behind her and touched his thighs. His chest and belly pressed into her back, strong all these years. His hands moved around her to cup her breasts.

Her body reacted to his hand, just like the first time. Her nipple came to attention under the gentle pull of his fingers.

They undressed, helping each other ease of their clothing. Then together they stretched out on the bed, skin to skin.

His fingers stroked the swell of her breasts. The swells had move lower with time. The skin was not as supple or smooth as it once was, but still stimulating.

She stretched up and kissed him, her mouth and tongue hot against him. She ran fingers down her back, grabbing his butt. Then up his chest, teasing his nipples.

He dipped his head to tongue her nipples. And his fingers dipped between her legs he found droplets of moisture gathering.

Her fingers stretched out, then closed around his sex. She stroked up and down his shaft. Her other hand stroked and squeezed his balls.

He moaned into her mouth, feeling the first stirrings of life between his legs.

He reached for the lube in the bedside table behind him, momentarily pulling from her.

She held her hand out. "Please?"

He squeezed some of the cool lubricant into her hand. She let it warm to her hand before lowering it to him again. His eyes closed with pleasure as she slicked it over him with her hand. His breath caught in his throat in a low moan.

She caught the moan in a deep kiss. He dropped the bottle and grabbed her breasts. She moved her hips into him, impatient as ever.

His hands slid down her body. He gripped her hips and pulled them back. "Wait," he said. She sighed, pulling away.

He was hard in her hand. She slowed her strokes, prolonging the pleasure.

He poured the lubrication into his fingers. He watched her eyes as he pushed one slick finger between her lips into her heat. He rubbed his slick thumb against her sensitive clit.

She dropped her hands away from him, as he thrust into her, rubbing her in the way he knew drove her crazy. She moaned and arched her back into him.

As he continued, she rocked her hips against his fingers. She murmured encouragement to him.

She closed her eyes and let out a squeal of enjoyment as she orgasmed on his fingers. Her body clenched tight around him. He nearly came himself at the sensation. But he longed to feel it squeezing him tighter, from the inside.

When she recovered she kissed him again. "Make love to me," she moaned against him. "I want to feel you inside me."

"Yes," he said, teeth gritted.

He moved over her. A hand fitted between them. He spread her, guiding himself into her welcoming body. It was a familiar and new feeling all at once. It was new every time he eased in. He let himself sink deeply into her, groaning with each inch he moved.

He thrust slowly. In and out. Not wanting to hurt her. Holding back was excruciating, as his body lurched wanting to find fulfillment inside of her.

She moved against him quickly, urging him forward. She opened her eyes, watching his face, as their hips met again and again. She put her hands on him, feeling his breath quicken with each movement.

It seemed like moments and forever later, when the world inside him exploded. He came inside her with a grunt and two last weak thrusts.

She sighed contentedly, rubbing his back, holding him tight to her. The love for him swelled in her chest.

His chest pounded into her as he heaved for air.

She worried sometimes about the heaving. But, she knew he kept in shape. And, they'd kept an active sex life all this time.

He moved his weight off her and laid next to her, almost caught his breath again. She felt her body expand into the space he'd left.

"Not bad for an old guy right?"

"You're not an old guy. You are as sexy as the day I met you."

He kissed her. "I love you, like the day I met you."

She smiled up at him. "I loved you before I met you."

"You did?"

She nodded.