Your erotic stories

1

There is something about heat that only we northern Celts can fully appreciate. I hadn’t been abroad since my childhood, and the minute I stepped off the plane I was consumed by a bright heat rising from the Cretan rocks that forced me to slow down and take in the quiet beauty of the place.

And what a place it was. As I drove across the island in my rental car, I had to spare a thought for my brother Alan who had pulled out of the trip at the last minute due to another work crisis. He would have been in his element here – straight to the beach with a book and a bottle of factor 45 to start the slow transformation from ghostly Scottish white to a more Mediterranean bronze. Not so me, – I’m just a little too body-conscious to want to race down to the water at the first opportunity.

When I reached the apartment complex, I was happily surprised to find that Alan had booked us into a more traditional type of Cretan house, miles away from the more modern developments. I checked in and got the key for 4A, and was the more delighted to find a beautifully converted, spacious interior. On entering the master bedroom, I couldn’t help but try the huge bed and, after a frustrating morning waiting around for airport security checks, I found myself melting into the soft sheets and soon drifted away.

When I awoke it was just after eight in the evening, and the light coming through the shutters had begun to fade. I freshened up and decided to take a walk down to the local restaurant for dinner. On the way I deliberately forced myself to slow down and take in the surroundings – I was beginning to wind down into holiday mode. This felt like a great opportunity to recharge my batteries after a difficult few months, and to make a dent in the pile of unopened books I had accumulated.

The restaurant was just beyond the pool where I saw an older couple folding up their towels and making their way past me with a polite nod. The smell of the pool changed to fresh coffee, bread and garlic as I got near the restaurant. Inside, I asked for a table over in a quiet corner, as I usually do when eating alone. I asked the owner, what he recommended, and he brought me a wonderful dish of tiny fried fish, followed by grilled lamb and salad. As I ate, I couldn’t help wondering why salad tastes so much better on holiday. Is it the ingredients, or just that ambient heat that brings out the flavour?

My thoughts were interrupted as I cast my eyes around the room and had a look at some of the other guests. Judging by the strands of conversation I could hear, there were two groups of Germans, a young family who sounded Danish, and the elderly couple that I’d just seen leaving the pool and whom I think were French. Besides these, there were myself, two young girls that were too far away to hear, and another solitary woman at the far side of the room. My mind wandered back to my own table as I finished the last of the main course.

I don’t take coffee very often, but it smelled wonderful and I asked for a cup. Niko brought it along with an ice cold shot of his homemade spirit that I later found out was called ‘tsikoudia’. I’ve not been much of a drinker for a few years now, not since I left university at any rate, and the tsikoudia, after burning my throat, went straight to my head. This wasn’t helped by the affable Niko, who kept bringing out more of the stuff and stood over me proudly as he watched me imbibe. I eventually managed to talk him into bringing the bill, and made my way back to the apartment. The effect of the coffee was drowned out by the tsikoudia, and once again I fell into a deep sleep within a few minutes of lying on the bed.

When I awoke, I was soaking. I realised I’d just kicked off my shoes and got into bed with my shirt and trousers on. The heat was unbearable. I could manage it earlier with a breeze blowing through the room, but I’d closed the windows and forgotten to open them when I got in. I dumped my clothes and headed for the shower to cool down. It was only half past two according to the bedside clock.

Back in bed and a little cooler, I was now wide awake. I decided to try and sleep in the nude, on top of the sheets, but even then I was too hot to really relax. I took the first book that came to hand from my case, and resolved to read until I fell asleep again.

The book, which I’m fairly sure was given to me by an old flatmate of mine, turned out to be set in northern India during the late nineteenth century. Presumably that’s why he’d bought it, knowing that I was very interested in that sort of thing. I’m pretty sure however that he didn’t realise he’d bought me what amounted to a ‘softcore’ erotic novel.

Now, I’m not sure whether it was the heat and the sweat, my uncovered body, the different air, or the tsikoudia, or perhaps all of these together, but by about page fifteen I was utterly compelled by this book. It had been nearly two years since I’d split from my last girlfriend, and I had begun to feel like a ‘born again virgin’. For some reason my body decided that tonight was the night of release, and I undertook one of the most intense moments of self pleasuring of my life. I managed to keep pumping my cock for about five minutes, before I collapsed down into the bed, utterly spent.

As my breathing eventually subsided, my eyes clouded over, and I was just re-entering the realm of sleep when I heard a very clear creak and the sound of a lamp being switched, as if in my own room. My eyes were instantly open, and my whole body became alert. I got up, and quickly looked around the room. No one was there.

I went into the ensuite bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath to think. My mind was in a state of panic, wondering where the hell that noise had come from. All of a sudden, as I sat there, I heard a door shut quietly, followed by soft footsteps. Next came a sound that could only have been piss hitting porcelain, followed by faint ripping of paper and running water.

I was utterly incredulous. How on earth, I asked myself, could someone split up this old house with what must have been paper-thin walls? There was absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Whoever was in that adjoining apartment must have had their bedroom right next to mine, and must surely have heard me jerking off for all I was worth not five minutes earlier. Perhaps they had even felt it.

My annoyance turned upon myself for not even considering the possibility of being overheard. How could I be so stupid? I was absolutely devastated, and started worrying about the next day. No doubt I would get a discrete visit from the manager of the place, asking me to consider the neighbours and then the rumours would spread like wildfire,

“Hey, there’s that creepy British wanker.”

I spent most of the rest of the night wondering whether to move to a hotel further down the coast, before finally falling asleep once more.

2

The light of morning brought some relief and perspective. I decided to keep a very low profile, and stick to my original plan of relaxing and reading (although I would avoid the erotic novel). I had a private balcony off the flat, and had seen a supermarket in the next village where I could get some supplies. As there was next to nothing in the kitchen, I made that my first priority.

By the afternoon of the second day, I was happily glued to a lounger with a detective novel and a bottle of water, being careful not to overdo the direct sun. Before I had left, my mother had given me a lecture about constantly re-applying sun cream. The fact that I was a few weeks short of thirty didn’t seem to affect her. To her I am obviously still a fair-skinned, eight year old boy with sunburn.

After a light lunch of feta and salad, I went for another lie down inside, away from the sun. I decided to spoil myself with a nice long bath. At home, I only have a shower, and the thought of a bath was tempting. I eased myself into the water, stinging a little from the sun, and fell into deep relaxation.

Not long after this, I heard a key in a lock, and what must have been my neighbours coming back in. It was incredible. I could clearly hear someone moving about the adjoining apartment. The next thing I knew, their steps got louder, and I guessed they must be right on the other side of the wall. It seemed that the apartments were a mirror image of each other, with the master bedrooms and bathrooms along the adjoining wall. Talk about poor design. I felt like I was invading their privacy.

At a loss for what to do, I made a few swishing sounds in the water in the hope that they would hear me and realise that I could also hear them. There was a very long silence. I made a few more noises in the water, and still there was nothing. After nearly a minute, I heard the sound of taps being turned on very close to me.

At first I thought they must have turned on the taps so as to drown out the sound of their pee, or perhaps of my water swishing. However, when the taps were eventually turned off, I was certain that I could hear the sound of someone slowly getting into the bath on the other side of the wall.

In my entire life, I had never been so alert to my surroundings. As I heard them moving in the water, I worked out that the bath in the next room must, like the one I was in, be lined up against the wall. Here I was, lying naked in a bath, inches away from another naked person about whom I knew nothing, and with nothing but paper thin plasterboard between us. The sounds stopped, and I guessed that, like me, they must be lying stock still, listening out.

The whole situation had somehow metamorphosed from embarrassment into an intense turn on. Eventually, for my own sanity, I made another noise with my arm through the water. After a few seconds, I heard a similar noise from next door. This was too much to take. Were they playing with me? I didn’t know who they were – young or old, male or female. I thought that if there was a family next door I would have heard them talking, but I couldn’t even be sure of that. Did they know who I was? Presumably they knew I was a man after the episode of the previous night.

I made another noise, and sure enough, the echo came again. I realised that I had by now an almost painful erection. Emboldened, I tapped three times on the wall with my fingernail. Sure enough, after a slight delay, three taps came back. I desperately needed to know what kind of person I was dealing with. I hummed three low notes. After some time I heard them echoed in the soprano register, followed by what I’m sure was a stifled giggle.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

There was no reply. All I heard was the sound of the plug being pulled and someone getting out of the bath.

Clearly then, this must be my neighbour’s revenge for the previous night: she was going to toy with me for her own amusement. The thing was, I had never been as turned on, never as in tune with my sexuality. It was unbearable – I couldn’t even relieve myself again for fear of being overheard and reported.

That evening I had begun to get cabin fever, and my stomach demanded satisfaction. I resolved I was not going to be kept inside for fear of embarrassment at an honest mistake. No one would toy with me. I decided to make my way down to the restaurant again and face the music.

“Good evening sir,” said the owner.

“Good evening Niko” I replied, as he showed me to the same seat as the previous night.

Once seated, I surveyed the room for accusatory glances, but was met with no more than polite smiles by those who caught my eye. The Germans were all in, now sharing the one large table, and the Danish family were there, but no sign of the French, or any of the others. I ordered a Greek salad, followed by calamari rings and chips. What with the state of my nerves, I gladly accepted the first tsikoudia that Niko brought me.

“Here sir. Drink this. It will make the fire of Crete inside you, and is very good for the digestion.”

“Thanks very much. Have all the other guests been in tonight?”

“No sir, just these. Are you looking for someone?” he asked with what I’m sure was a faint smile.

“Oh no, thanks. Niko”

I finished the meal and was again plied with several glasses of Niko’s moonshine. It almost seemed as if he was trying to get rid of the stuff. On my way back to the apartment I felt rather unsteady on my feet, but at the same time I felt euphoric. No one was going to mess with me any more.

Feeling a little burnt by the sun, I went to apply aftersun liberally. There’s something about aftersun – perhaps it’s the smell, and the feel of hands all over the body, but it got me aroused again. I lay down in my bed, in two minds whether to read the porn novel, but felt I needed to know if I had company.

“Hello.” I said. Nothing for a while, then quietly,

“Hallo.” An accent – not English.

“You are a very rude man,” she said in what sounded like German tones.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t know you were there.”

“You should have asked if you want to do rude things with me hearing them.”

“If I’d known you were there,” I started to explain, then, “Wait a minute. You’re saying I should have asked you?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you serious? You mean, I should have asked ‘do you mind if I have a hearty wank for a few minutes?'”

“What is this ‘hearty'”

“It means full on.”

“You should have asked me,” she repeated.

My mind was being pulled inside out. I wasn’t sure whether I was imagining the whole exchange under the influence of the tsikoudia. I went on,

“So what would you have said then, if I’d asked you?”

“You’ll never know now Mr Rude.”

Mr fucking Rude? This girl had some teutonic nerve on her. Time to call her bluff I thought.

“Okay then mystery woman. I’ll tell you what. Right now I’m all turned on after our little shared bath today, and I want to have another wank. What do you say about that? Is that okay with you?”

After a pause of a good few seconds she said,

“Okay. You can do it as long as it’s okay for me to have a wank too.”

I thought I would awake from the dream at any minute, and before I could think said,

“Fine. That’s fine by me.”

“Good.”

The next twenty minutes were more satisfying than any sex I had ever experienced before. After a few minutes of creaks and sharp breathing, I eventually heard soft moaning come from what seemed like inches away. I closed my eyes and took my aching cock in my hand while I listened to and almost felt her crescendo of pleasure. I couldn’t hold out for very long, and covered my stomach in cum a full ten minutes before her stifled shrieks of pleasure eventually subsided into silence.

For some reason, neither of us felt the need to continue with our brief conversation after the fact, and I fell into the deepest sleep I had had in months.

3

The next morning I was in a quandary. Here I was, having a sexual relationship, so to speak, with someone I’d never even seen. I didn’t know anything about her. I might not find her attractive. She might not want anything more to do with me. There was only one thing that I was sure of, and that was that I wanted these feelings to continue. Just as I was lying there, going round in circles in my mind, she spoke.

“Hallo. Are you awake?”

“Yes. Good morning.”

“Good morning. What are you thinking today Mr Rude?”

“First of all, it’s time we were introduced, my name is Richard from Scotland.”

A short laugh, then, “My name is Christina. I am from Norway.”

So not German after all. I said “Nice to meet you Christina.”

“Nice to meet you Mr Rude… I mean, Richard”

I fumbled around with some more pleasantries, until eventually she said,

“You look very handsome Richard. I was thinking of you last night.”

“How do you know what I look like?”

“I saw you coming in here two days ago.”

“Oh. I haven’t seen you.”

“Yes you have. I was eating in the restaurant alone, two nights ago.”

My mind raced back to the meal. She must have been the one in the opposite corner. Pretty damn fine I thought I remembered; perhaps a little older than me. Finally she said.

“I think you should come through with me now and I will make you breakfast if you want.”

I agreed. Finally we would be face to face. Like a teenager going to his first date, I put on some shorts and made my way across the hall to knock timidly on 4B. After about four minutes the door opened.

“Come in.”

I went in and saw her standing, wrapped in a bed sheet, next to the kitchen table. Neither of us said anything as I sat down opposite her. I drank her in completely. She was a darker Scandinavian, not the stereotypical blonde type, but with a vaguely Italian look. I put her in her mid-thirties. Our eyes wandered over each other, returning repeatedly to each other’s face, trying to work out where to go from here. She broke into a smile.

“Come through to the bedroom.”

“What about my breakfast?”

“Come through to the bedroom.”

“Okay.” Why the hell was I going on about breakfast? I followed her through and we sat down next to each other on the side of her bed.

Being this close was wonderful. I watched her eyes moving over my chest and drank in the smell of her: perfume mixed with sun cream and sweat. I took her hand and kissed her forearm, tasting salt.

“Well Mr Richard, you want some breakfast?”

I looked at her, not sure what she meant. She shifted over and gently took my head in her hands. She kissed me on the nose and then gently guided me down her body, steadily edging back until my head was between her legs. This lady certainly knew how to ask for something.

I repositioned myself until I was lying flat on my stomach with her above me on the bed, lying back with her feet resting on my back. I set about her with my tongue, licking her pussy slowly as she warmed up, gradually getting faster and varying the action. She tasted strong, presumably from the previous night’s efforts, and as I went on, she began to pull my head in, first with her hands on my hair, then with the full strength of her legs. After what seemed like an age, her body began to spasm violently, and her feet beat down on my back. As she reached her peak she gripped my head between her thighs so tightly that I thought my head might explode. Instead I received an explosion of liquid into my mouth, that I thought at first was pee, and then realised was her cum. She laid back, having presumably served me up my breakfast.

“That’s us even,” she said.

“What?”

“For the other night, when you didn’t ask me permission.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you might like me to serve you some breakfast now.”

“Not right now. Maybe later. Could you just get me a coffee please Richard.”

On auto-pilot, and with my head still reeling, I went back through to her kitchen and made a large cafetière of coffee. I wasn’t sure yet where this was going, but so far I had no complaints. She had given me the most intense sexual experiences of my life in the space of a few hours.

As we drank the coffee, she eventually said,

“I have a plan Richard.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

“Try me.”

“First, please tell me, did you like what we just did?”

“You mean this morning, or last night?”

“Well, I’m thinking more of this morning.”

“That was probably the greatest half hour of my life.”

“Are you serious? You enjoyed it that much?”

“Sure. What’s this plan then”

I wasn’t lying. Going down on a girl has always been high on my list of preferred activities.

“Well Richard…” she started, still not too sure of herself, “How long are you booked in here for.”

“A fortnight.”

“That’s great. Me too. How would you feel about staying here with me for the whole fortnight?”

“That sounds good. We can do all sorts of stuff together… there’s a nice little beach just down the coast…”

“I don’t think you understand Richard. How would you feel about staying in this apartment for the whole two weeks with me?”

“You mean, never leaving the apartment?”

“That’s right.”

“But what about food?”

“I could take care of all that.”

“But why? I’ve got the car sitting outside.”

She looked at the floor for a while, then raised her head and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Richard, have you ever heard of slaves?”

“You mean, in a sexual way?”

“That’s right.”

“Sure, I mean, I’ve read about it here and there.”

“And what do you think?”

“Are you asking me to be your slave, here, for a fortnight?”

She paused for a moment, then, “Yes.”

Looking back on this moment, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had said no. I’m pretty sure that that would have been the end of it. She did like me, but wanted to use me even more. Eventually I said, “I think we could give it a try.”

“No.” she said quickly, “You’re either in or out for the two weeks. That’s the deal.”

“In,” I said. There was no way I could turn her down; slave or no slave.

“And you agree to fulfil all my commands as your mistress.”

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

“Fine. Now go and pack all your things, and bring them through to me.”

“What? Why?”

“No questions. You have to do this to finish the agreement.”

I did think twice at this point. I mean, I still didn’t really know the woman, but she had cast such a spell over me that there was no turning back. I was in it for the long haul. I went back to my apartment. Packed all my stuff and brought it back through. She stood there beaming brightly as I put the case down in the kitchen.

“Now strip.”

“What.”

“Strip and put your shorts and shoes in the case with the rest of the stuff.”

She clearly didn’t want me to keep questioning every command, so I did as she asked, watching as her eyes widened slightly at the sight of my cock.

“Great.” She said. “Now, just wait here for a while. I’ll be back soon. Don’t touch anything while I’m gone”

“Oh. Okay.”

As she lifted my case out of the room, I saw a look in her eyes that clearly meant that I was not to question her actions, and should keep my mouth shut for now. I said nothing.

Three hours passed very slowly. I wondered if I’d taken on more than I could handle. I’d known the lady for a few hours and had agreed to let her leave me completely naked as she removed all my possessions, including my wallet, plane tickets and passport. I must have been mad. Yet something told me she would be back. She was acting out of some kind of inner compulsion rather than to deceive. I felt she genuinely wanted this to work. I lay down on her bed to await her return.

“Get up slave!”

I hadn’t heard her come in.

“Get up. What the hell are you doing lying down on my bed without my permission?”

“Huh?”

She had a new intensity about her now. Her whole demeanour spoke of an iron will that was not to be trifled with.

“Up.”

“Okay, I’m up, I’m up.”

“Look Richard, if this is going to work, there’s certain rules you’re going to have to learn.” She was back out of character now. “Let’s sit down in the kitchen and have a discussion.”

The discussion turned out to be more of a monologue. Christina informed me that my possessions were stored in a safe location known only to her. If I wanted them back I would have to keep to the agreement and play along with her for the rest of the two weeks.

She told me how she had come on holiday to try and get her head straight, talking for almost an hour about the ‘scene’ in Norway and how she was bored of it all. She explained that the whole scene had become dominated by violence and that that wasn’t really her thing. Thank God for that I thought. Rather, she was into her own sexual gratification at the expense of a ‘man-slave’. She was, she told me, less of a traditional dominatrix than an “insatiable sexual being”, who got off on making submissive men please her in all kinds of ways.

To be honest, she left me pretty much none the wiser about how I would be spending the next few days, other than that I was to obey her every command with the reply “Yes mistress,” and that if I thought something was too extreme, I should still try to do it, but as a last resort use the word “Halt.”

In my limited experience, I had never come across a ‘scene’ in Scotland. That said, I should make it clear that I have always had a taste for sexual adventure, and had been censured by both my previous long-term partners for trying to take things too far. However, I had no idea what lay ahead for me with Christina. Had I known, I think at that point in my life I would have thought twice, but then I would have missed out on so much.

4

Having laid out the ground rules, Christina seemed much more at ease, and decided to spend the late afternoon tanning on her balcony.

“Rub in lotion for me boy.”

“Yes mistress.”

Fortunately, the high walls around the balcony afforded privacy from the rest of apartments, as I was still naked. Christina lay on her front and after I had spent half an hour massaging her with sun lotion from neck to feet, she had me sit, out of her sun, with a newspaper and fan her down when she got too warm. The sight and feel of her glistening brown body had already started to have an effect on my cock. When she moved her head to the side she must have caught a glimpse.

“I see you’re getting excited again boy.”

“Yes mistress.”

“Does the sight of my bare ass excite you boy.”

“Yes mistress.”

“Rub some more lotion into my ass boy.”

I took a good squirt in one hand, warmed it up then began to gently massage her ass.

“Rub harder boy, get in deeper with your fingers.”

My cock throbbed as my hands set about her ass with increasing power and depth.

“Now, rub yourself onto my ass”

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant then. And she eventually looked around and made a wanking motion with her hand. I couldn’t believe my luck. So much for this hardcore dominatrix – I was going to cum all over her ass.

My hand was still covered in the lotion, and it felt wonderful as I took my cock and began pumping hard while standing over her sumptuous ass. It only took a couple of minutes before I kneeled down closer and spent my load on her cheeks.

“Good boy. Now put it all in the crack.”

Getting used to odd commands, I gathered up the cum with my hands and managed to arrange it along her ass crack.

“Oh yes. Now rub it in a bit”

I set to work with a couple of fingers, rubbing the cum down further into her crack.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I want you to kneel down and lick my crack clean with your tongue. ”

This was the first of several occasions where I thought about using the “Halt” command. But, to be honest, I had tasted my own cum before. A girl who had given me a blow job thought it would be fun to spit my cum out in my mouth without telling me first. It wasn’t too bad, and I thought I had better not fail at the first hurdle, so I obliged. She made me stay down there cleaning her for a good ten minutes as she writhed this way and that, clearly enjoying herself.

Finally, she let me up.

“There you go. That wasn’t so bad boy. Well done.”

I had a strong taste of cum in my mouth, along with something else that I didn’t quite recognise, but I managed a smile.

“Now I need to do my front.”

She had me massage her once more with the lotion, this time paying special attention to her tits, and for some reason, the soles of her feet. She then got me to bring her drinks and sandwiches before asking for a re-application. After a short while londer she had decided it was too hot, and made me prepare her bed for a siesta.

She slept for a good two hours, and allowed me a spot on the floor to rest. I was feeling a little sunburnt, despite having tried to keep under the shade whenever possible. When she awoke, she had me run her a bath, and arrange some scented candles for her around the bathroom.

“Leave me now.”

“Yes mistress.”

I waited outside for a while, before being called in again.

“Bring me a large gin and tonic.”

She had a plentiful supply of drinks in the fridge, and I made here her a ‘G and T’ as requested.

“Right. I need to re-hydrate. Bring me two bottles of Evian.”

“Yes mistress.”

I was amazed as, over the next half an hour, she finished her drink and the two very large bottles of Evian.

“I’m exhausted boy. Carry me back through now.”

I lifted her out of the bath, and laid her on top of some clean towels on her bed. I could see a massive bulge in her stomach, presumably containing four litres of water.

“May I ask a question mistress?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you drink so much water.”

“I need to re-hydrate from the sun.”

“Yes mistress.”

Still baffled, I was ordered to go and clean myself in the shower, and clean off the dried cum from my chin. I was just nearing the end of my shower, when the door opened, and Christina came in.

“Lie down. Shower off.”

“Yes mistress.”

I sensed that she was not to be messed with, and complied. I lowered myself down into the bath and lay out flat.

“You need to re-hydrate too”

“Yes mistress.”

I wasn’t sure what she had in mind until she climbed over the side of the bath and squatted over my face. Leaning forward, she put the plug into the plughole.

“Okay boy. You need to take a lot of liquid to help you hydrate. You won’t leave this room until I’m satisfied you’ve finished your whole allowance.”

She asked me, “Can you drink beer quickly?”

“Yes mistress, I can down a pint.”

“Well, you’ll need to do that now, because believe me, your liquid will taste better straight from the tap rather than in the bath.”

“Yes mistress.”

There was then a short silence, followed by a deep breath. I watched as her pussy opened up and let loose an extraordinary gush of pee on my face.

“Drink it boy, drink it.”

I centred my mouth around the stream and began swallowing as fast as I could, yet still it came too fast and much of it ran down my sides to gather at my feet. She looked down with a smile.

Rather than disgust or anger, I remember feeling a deep-seated kind of urgency and desperation to consume her waste. It was so diluted that the taste was very mild, and I only gagged when the spray moved slightly and filled my nose. I was, against all my better instincts, completely turned on.

When she had finished and climbed out, I set about the deep puddle at the bottom of the bath – sucking it all up as quickly as I could. I think she was quite taken with this. She sat open-mouthed on the toilet as I licked up the last drops greedily. She waited, silently watching me for some time, then a huge smile set upon her face and her eyes welled with tears. She got up, came over to me, and kissed me on my soaking head before making her way out.

“Take your time to clean yourself Richard.”

“Yes mistress.”

5

That night passed quietly, and I was allowed to sleep on the foot of her bed. Something about her had changed after the peeing incident. She looked at me differently now, with a kind of grateful affection. I could only guess that I was pleasing her by submitting to her whims.

“Good morning boy.”

“Good morning mistress.”

She got out of the bed.

“Stay there boy. I’m going for my morning run.”

I watched as she slipped on some jogging gear and left the room. The minute she was away I longed for her to return and found myself inhaling the scent she had just left on the sheets. This intense longing was something I had never experienced. One day in her company had transformed me into an obsessed devotee. She had become a goddess to me, and I could hardly bear to be separated from her.

After nearly an hour of staring at the clock she returned, breathing heavily.

“Boy, undress me.”

She collapsed in a heap upon the bed, and went limp as I slowly removed her damp outer garments. She was apparently not fond of deodorant as I found out while lifting her torso up to get her top off, and saw too that she obviously hadn’t shaved under her arms for a good while.

“Take the rest off too.”

I removed her socks, panties and sports bra, getting another whiff of her armpits. She lay there for a while with her eyes shut as I looked down at her in awe.

“Now, I want you to clean me off.”

I went to lift her up to take her to the shower.

“No. What are you doing? I mean here; with your tongue – clean up the sweat.”

She pointed to her armpits. She didn’t have to explain any more. I started on one side of her body and worked my way up to the pit with my tongue, slowly trying to clean every inch, then moving over to the other side.

“Now here.”

She lifted her breasts up towards her face, leaving the damp underside exposed. I carefully went over the area, being careful not to miss any sweat.

“Here.”

She waved her feet in the air and I moved down to the foot of the bed, sucking each toe and licking her feet clean. After several minutes my whole mouth and face were saturated in her sweat.

“Good boy,” she said. “Now clean in here please.”

She flipped over and went on all fours, before edging her knees apart and sticking her ass straight up in the air.

I had a full view of her anus and, as I got closer, I could clearly distinguish the smell from the rest of her body. Had I not been completely wrapped up in the moment, I might have thought twice. I cleaned off the outer ring of sweat, and as I progressed to the centre, the taste changed to something completely different, but somehow it only spurred me on harder. I began to try and poke my tongue into the centre of her anus, but couldn’t quite penetrate it.

After a few minutes, she gaspedsuddenly , and began shifting her weight from one knee to the other, as if straining, or in pain. I continued to lick away until suddenly my tongue managed to penetrate inwards. Instantly it was met by a warm pointed object coming the other way. I recoiled instinctively. Somewhere in the far reaches of my mind I heard a voice saying, “Halt, Halt!” but that was drowned out by a symphonic chorus of “YES!”

“Slave, put out your hands to receive my gift.”

“Yes mistress.”

As I put out my hands below her ass, my mistress pushed out a huge, soft pile of a shit – so big that I had to spread my hands fully, to stop it falling to the bed. The smell crashed into to my face like a tidal wave and overpowered me to the extent that I was aware of nothing but the huge, hot, heavy spiral of shit in my hands.

“Now, take it next door and get rid of it boy. Then clean your hands thoroughly.”

She collapsed down onto the bed. What a relief. I had been shaking at the thought she was going to tell me to eat the lot. With two flushes I managed to send it on its way, then spent a good minute scrubbing my hands clean.

“Now boy.”

“Yes mistress?”

“Come back through and clean me off.”

I looked around for some toilet paper or paper towels, but couldn’t see anything.

“What’s taking so long boy?”

“I can’t find any toilet paper mistress.”

“That’s because there isn’t any. Besides, I won’t need any while you’re here.”

I froze, then slowly made my way back through to the bedroom to see Christina, up on all fours again with her ass open wide enough for me to see a brownish patch covering her cleft. She didn’t need to explain any more. I shut my eyes and buried my face between her cheeks, lapping up the scum with my tongue. She pressed back harder and harder, bending my head right back as she forced me in deeper. Finally she sprung forward and off the bed, leaving me to collapse forward onto my rock hard cock.

She returned in a few seconds and pushed me on to my back.

“Here. Take some of this. I got it from Niko.”

She poured into my mouth a large measure of ice-cold tsikoudia.

“Swill it about a bit… now swallow. That’s right. Here, take some more.”

She refilled my mouth three times, after which my head was in a spin.

“Now, just one more bit of cleaning for you.”

Before I knew what was happening, she was kneeling forward over me with her hands on my stomach, and had planted her pussy right on my face. She was soaking, and she reacted to my tongue like a maniac, quickly driving herself into a frenzied explosion that left me drenched. I was so turned on by her that I accidentally came when her hair brushed against the tip of my cock, leaving one side of her face covered in cum. To finish, she had me lick my cum from her face as she lay back exhausted.

Epilogue

Over the rest of our fortnight together, we crossed many of my boundaries, and we may have even been to a few places that were new to her. But it was then, just after I had cleaned off her face, that I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. We grew closer over the days, and I learned quite a bit about her life, and she mine.

To cut a long story short, we married two years ago and now live in Oslo. What happened during the rest of the holiday and afterwards is another story, and one that I hope to share with you soon.