She usually swam at the pool in her neighborhood, but on occasion, and on this occasion, she swam at the Hollywood Y, where the water was warmer and there was a Jacuzzi for a soak afterward.
The timing was perfect. Work had been annoying, moreso than usual, and she'd hurried to get done so she could leave the job behind and lose herself in water.
She felt refreshed by her laps and was glad to find the Jacuzzi deserted. She slipped in, the heat bringing her blood flashing to the surface. She laid back for a moment, then reached down to loosen the thong of her bathing suit and let the hot water swirl around her crotch. She and her boyfriend had given her a fresh shave on the weekend, and she gave her bald pussy lips a gentle brush with her fingers. It was still smooth and pink, and she liked that.
When she climbed out of the hot tub her body was enveloped in steam; wisps were still rising as she sat in front of her locker. She opened her gym bag and fished around for her clothes, a tee shirt and that short (not micro, just short) skirt she liked to wear. She glanced around once to make sure she was alone, and then pulled out something else, a pair of skimpy leather g-strings. They came out in a tangle; she smiled a little as she sorted them out. One had three chains of glittering polished links that hung a patch of leather to strap over the pussy; the other had slit down the middle of the crotch with a length of chain that laid right over the clit. She considered for a moment, then settled on the single chain. She knew it would be a while before she got home, and she liked the idea of that chain annoying her mons. Besides, she knew he liked it; it made chewing on her cunt kind of crazy, like chunks of heath bar in ice cream.
The g-strings were something she and her boyfriend had picked out at a sex shop -- they looked intriguing on the rack, but positively provocative when strapped around her cunt. Each seemed to serve more as a harness than for clothing, squeezing the flesh around her pussy, plumping her flesh. He'd found that when he pulled the g-string up from behind, up the crack of her ass, she'd squirm a little and the leather would squeeze the lips of her pussy until they fairly puckered. He liked that.
And he liked the way the leather looked on her, the way it looked like it must feel, kind of slick but warm and thick. With one of those g-strings reaching around her thighs to wrap her pussy, with maybe a simple link chain around her neck, it seemed to change the whole geography of her body, setting her pussy squarely in the center, a luscious triangle surrounded by her thighs and the lovely globe of her stomach.
He'd always liked pussy -- as much as the next guy, I suppose -- but in the months since they'd gotten serious, he had become seriously enamored of her cunt, insatiably, whimperingly, yearningly enamored of her cunt. Maybe it was simply because she gave it to him -- not as often as he'd like, but plenty, really. Maybe it was true that hers was a particularly sweet and juicy cunt, which he liked to point out. Or maybe it was true that it was because he loved her, which he also liked to point out. But there was no question he had found a new sexual focus. He told her time and again that he wanted to be her pussy slave. She hadn't quite taken him up on it, but she wasn't objecting.
She hadn't been planning anything, but she kept the g-strings in her bag so that she wouldn't have to. And after a day like today -- long hours, and her boss snapping at her for no apparent reason -- she decided she wanted some undivided attention. Some sheer adoration wouldn't hurt either.
She put on the g-string, with the crotch cut out and the single strand of chain stretched vertically across her slit, and took a moment to adjust it. She pulled the straps up over her hips and spread her feet a little, reached behind to pull it taut, and then reached down, two fingers splayed, and opened the lips of her pussy so the chain would slip in between. When she pulled her hand away her lips settled around the chain in a gentle embrace. For much of the length of her cunt, the chain fairly disappeared from view. That's right, she thought. She quickly pulled on her skirt and threw on a silky blouse -- no bothering with a bra. Then she kicked into a pair of black-leather sandals -- she was pleased to notice they kind of worked with the leather straps around her pussy -- grabbed her bag and headed out.
It was kind of fun to walk out into the early evening, her pussy bare to the cool air, framed in supple leather, the chain shifting as she walked. It wasn't particularly intense, but she could feel it, and she was plenty aware of what was going in under her plain skirt, and it made her feel excited.
She decided to stop for a drink on the way home. There was a dive bar nearby, just neighborhood type. There was parking right in front, and a stool where she usually sat. She ordered a greyhound.
She knew the bartender. They shared a couple of jokes. She laughed easily and infectiously. The place made her feel at home and she made everyone there feel the same. One of the regulars turned to her and made small talk about the latest Hollywood drama, a star who'd made yet another run from rehab. She settled back on her barstool and propped the heel of a sandal one rung off the floor. That spread her pussy and, she noticed, drew the chain a little taut across her cunt. She shifted her weight again and realized she might have to be careful that nobody noticed the charge she was getting off her clit. She took a deep swig off her drink.
She decided to drop a couple of quarters in the juke box. She lifted up off her stool and as she swung her leg around her pussy lips gave the chain a squeeze. She walked a little slower than usual across the floor and studied the Rolling Stones playlist. She picked a pair and returned to the bar.
The regular was getting a little friendlier -- his overtures were usually a pretty good measure of how many drinks she had. She was friendly right back. And she was getting a horny -- but not for him. She had plans, and she decided to quit screwing around. Besides, she had to be careful -- too much alcohol would spoil the sex. She drained her glass, said her goodbyes and split to the tune of Some Girls.
The freeway was jammed with the last of the evening rush, and she soon settled in for the 20 minutes on autopilot it would take to reach her exit. With the traffic setting the pace, she had little to do but stay patient. She lowered the window a bit to enjoy the cool air, lit a smoke and settled back. Rolling along with the stop-and-go, listening to a familiar CD, she thought about another time she'd been caught in traffic, this time on a drowsy summer day with her boyfriend. That day she was the passenger, and she'd decided to pass the time by leaning down into his lap, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. For 20 minutes she'd lost herself in slurping, gurgling and long, languid licks, leaving him to hang onto the wheel as best he could. She smiled at the memory -- it was fun to think how excited she could make him -- but then she noticed she was getting excited herself.
That didn't always happen. She was pretty widely experienced, and tended to think about sex with a healthy dose of humor, but tonight she was feeling a little randy, and she was headed home where she knew she had erotic attention on demand. Besides, the chain on that g-string was riding right on her clit.
She decided to help it along. She hitched up her skirt, letting her thighs and her ass rub against the sticky-slick vinyl of the car seat. It was a little cooler than the leather strapped around her pussy, and the combination had her shifting and squirming to get just the right feel.
When she hit the exit she accelerated. She had a hot little sports car -- her first, after a lifetime of clunkers -- and she enjoyed the still-new feeling of being able to beat the traffic. Besides, she was in something of a hurry. She liked the sexual thrill she'd been cultivating, and she didn't want to lose it.
She made the familiar turns through her downtown neighborhood, past the market, onto a side street, then up the twisting slope to the tall palm that stood in front of her home. She had expected her boyfriend would be home, but she was glad to see the lights on anyway. She was in no mood to be disappointed.
She pulled into the driveway, pulled her skirt back into place and headed in. As she entered the front door she was met by the familiar smell of the place, and by her old dog, who offered his usual tail-wagging greeting. Her boyfriend hollered from the rear office.
She went down a short hallway to find him at his keyboard. "Hello, darling." He lifted his face as she approached and offered his mouth for a kiss. She complied, and he was surprised when she lingered, her full lips soft and slightly parted.
"Ummmm," he said. Then he added a gentle kiss on her neck.
"Been to the pool?"
"You can tell?"
"Yeah, that chlorine doesn't wash off."
"Yes, the pool was great today." She swung her bag to the floor and strolled back toward the living room. "And now I could use a martini."
That got him out of his seat. She was always game for a drink after work, but straight gin was a little unusual. Still, he knew she liked his martinis, and he'd been looking forward to one of their few nights alone together. He headed to the kitchen and set about cracking ice and pouring liquor.
While he took care of business, she spotted the tin box where they liked to keep a ready stash of marijuana. She packed a fresh bowl, took a deep hit, and studied him. He was strong and tall -- much too big for her, you might think, but both liked to remark how in bed, their bodies seemed to meld together, as if they were made for each other. If love conquers all, they figured, that may as well include physics.
She crossed the room and took a seat on the couch. It was soft, smooth vinyl, like her car, and without missing a beat she hiked up her skirt the way she had on the freeway. The hemline crossed her torso just at the top of her thighs, exposing the leather patch of her g-string, and just a glint of the chain nestled between the lips of her pussy.
Her boyfriend approached with a frosty pitcher of gin and two glasses. He set them on the table in front of her, poured her drink, and looked up as he handed it to her. It was only then he noticed her pose.
"Wow," he said.
She reached for her drink, then leaned back deep into the sofa. "I'm trying to forget about my day," she said. Then she placed one foot off to the side, let her thighs fall open and took a deep sip of the drink.
She studied her boyfriend carefully over the rim of the glass. She felt a little strange about being so suggestive, but she was really in the mood, and he was always saying how much he enjoyed her pussy. Now seemed like a fine time to take him up on it.
She was right -- she hardly had to ask. Without a word, he dropped to his knees and lowered his head to her lap. He set about kissing her thighs and her belly, his lips moving in a slow circle around the g-string and its luscious contents. The shave from the weekend had left a vertical stripe of pubic fur with flanked by soft pink flesh. The whole package was set off by dark supple leather, and he paused to admire from a vantage point of about six inches.
She stroked his hair in response, and he nuzzled in closer, licking along the folds of her labia with his tongue, tasting the combination of salty flesh and pungent hide. Then he delved into the middle, running his tongue up the glistening chain link. As he reached the peak of her slit, she lifted her ass to shove her clit between his lips. He bit down gently, and she responded with a muffled grunt, and another shove. He liked that.
She tended to get excited slowly during their lovemaking, and he was happy to be patient, but when she started to come around, he tended to up the ante. That's what happened here, as he slipped an arm under her ass to lift her pussy higher, and with his other hand began to play with the chain strapped across her slit. As she started to rock gently, he wrapped his lips around hers, first strumming her clit with his tongue and then slipping down to dip into her gash. She was just starting to get wet, and he began to hum like the little elfs in the Campbell Soup ads. "Mmmmmmmmm."
She felt the same way. This was just what she'd been looking forward since she'd left the freakin' office. She adjusted herself slightly, drained her martini, then leaned all the way back and lifted and cocked one leg so that her heel rested on his shoulder. That opened her cunt wide to his lapping, lingering tongue. "That's right baby. You take care of my pussy." She didn't usually have much to say -- he certainly didn't need a lot of direction -- but she liked the idea of having him at her command. Hell, after today, she deserved it.
With all the attention, her pussy was beginning to respond in earnest. Moist was turning to positively juicy, and the flavor was morphing from a musty sort of spice thing to sheer honey, rich and viscous and strangely, incredibly sweet. He licked deeply and slowly to savor the flavor, then slid up once again to thrash her clitty again and keep the flow of honey coming.
He was reaching the sort of nirvana space that he had learned to adore in their lovemaking. He loved being surrounded by her flesh, by the feel of it all around him, by the sight of her soft undulation, by the rise of her belly and her breasts beyond it. It was time to pause, to slide up on her torso and cover her with kisses that ranged far from the juicy slit that he'd been focusing on. He didn't know exactly what body worship was supposed to be, but he figured it was something like this, where sexual excitement melds with unbridled love and affection into some kind of heady, altered state. He craved it, and he basked in it when he got there.
It also provoked a little bit of a crisis, one they'd both come to anticipate with as a comic as well as logistical hiatus, an intermission in their drama: the moment he moved to remove her g-string.
"You know I hate to do this baby," he said, not lying in the slightest, and shifting her hips to slide the leather off. This time, however, she surprised him. "Not yet, baby."
This was not how it usually went. After all, the g-string was more for his excitement than hers. And they both liked to finish with the easy, open intimacy of naked flesh. But this time, she had her own ideas.
"Lie down on your back. Over there." She pointed toward the end of the couch, over near the fireplace. As he did so she stood, lazily stripped off her top, and then picked up the pipe and took another lungful of smoke. Holding it in, she stepped over in front of him, her pussy still bound in its chain-and-leather strap. When she stepped over and straddled him, he immediately sat up and set about smooching with her wet slit. She let him for a moment, one hand twirling his hair and the other absently toying with one of her nipples, as erect and rubbery as a pencil eraser. Then she stopped.
"I said lie down."
He did so reluctantly, then turned his head to kiss and lick the instep of one of her feet between the straps of her sandals. She lifted her heel and again let him go for a moment.
"Do you need something to suck on?"
He answered with a murmur, and closed his teeth on the leather of the sandal.
"Here's something to suck on," she said, and she dropped to her knees, her elbows resting on the end of the couch, her pussy hanging down in his face. He responded immediately, grabbing the globes of her ass and probing with his tongue to find her clit. He lapped hungrily for a minute, and she began to squirm. He noticed that, as she got more excited, her pussy became engorged, and her labia pressed even further through the crotchless leather strap of her g-string. He wrapped his lips around hers, and his teeth around her clit as he lashed it with his tongue.
As she started to buck in response the chain across her pussy started to grind against her clit and gnash against his teeth. It was distinctly unfamiliar and a little strange and it got both of them more and more excited. He started to grunt. "Mmph, baby, fuck my face. Fuck my face, baby." Now she started to lose it, jerking her hips and grinding her pussy against the chain, against his lips, into his teeth, anything to get more traction. "Suck it baby." She was gasping now. "Unh. Suck it. Unh! Unh!"
Suddenly she froze as a wave of orgasm broke over her, rolling from her pussy up her belly and across her titties and back down to her clit. She grabbed his head, shoving her clit against his lips to revel in one last tremor, and at the same time to end the friction. She simply couldn't take any more.
Finally he relaxed, laying his head back and smiling up at his sexy, sweating queen. "Baby! I love being your sex slave."
"Good," she said, smiling down and nestling her ass onto his stomach. "What were you planning for dinner?"