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You Are Mine

Category: Mature
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While it’s a fact that I had seen all of your movies, and envied all your co-stars in the past, particularly those who had acted with you in all your steamy scenes which are a de rigueur in almost all your movies, never had I thought that I would be one day so lucky to not only be considered for a role in a movie opposite you, but also get a chance to audition for a wet-dream-come-true role where I play a virgin who gets seduced by you.

Me, moi, who had always found it difficult to control himself at the mere sight of you in your movies, always dressed so provocatively, that it almost always gave me an instant hard-on. While I had not seen you in real person till very recently, I had always imagined that you would be exuding this sensuous, seductive and enticing perfume, just a whiff of which would get me excited.

Reading the script itself had me so aroused that I had trouble thinking straight. It was simply the most erotic script I had ever encountered in my life. And I almost smiled when I came to the part early on in the script when you call me on the phone and tell me that you are wearing nothing else but your diamonds, perfume and a sexy smile. How I almost ached to hear that voice of yours that rang in my ears from various movies of yours, mouthing these seductive words to me.

And when I rang your doorbell so tentatively, full of apprehensions about my ability to measure up, for the script demanded an almost 90 minutes of sexual build up between you and me, and I am already beginning to be worried about being able to restrain myself for so long. I am aware, after all, that rehearsing for a 90 minute foreplay scene would make it difficult for me to control myself. While I play a virgin, the script is such that after 90 minutes of sheer sexual agony, you show me the way to ecstasy not once but 6 times in a span of the next 60 minutes.

Needless to say, I am trembling in desire already and my heart’s aflutter when you open the door dressed in a sleeveless, low-cut black satin top, more than anything else, the first things my senses take in is your spicy perfume, emanating as if from deep within your deep and distracting cleavage that I had trouble averting my surreptitious gaze from. You have obviously just had a bath, because your creamy skin is all aglow, your hair is wet, and the sheer scarlet lace of a thin bra strap is peeking provocatively out of your halter top, contrasting vividly against the smooth, scented skin of your shoulders.

And as my eyes glide down those shoulders, I notice a long pendant that you are have around your neck that is nestling deep within your cleavage inside that black satin top that seems to be just around 9 inches long in all, outlining your ripe and firm breasts encased in scarlet lace. You raise your arms and your breasts thrust out provocatively. I have an irresistible urge to reach out and cup them reverentially, to breathe in those perfumed, perfectly rounded hemispheres. I know I am in dangerous territory.

You smile, with a mischievous twinkle in your sparkling green eyes. “Glad to see me, are you?” you ask me, as you raise your arms to brush back your wet falling hair on your face. As you raise your arms, I stare transfixed, as if hypnotized, in a trance at this sheer sensuous vision in front of me. I am actually in the presence of the one that I have always imagined teaching me the art of love, the one I have imagined making me climb the very heights of sexual ecstasy. The vision that always dances around in my head when I pleasure myself. I remember how when I was in school, and first saw an adult movie, it always used to a rewind of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, Madonna in Body of Evidence, or Demi Moore in Disclosure. But that was before I saw you in Naked Desire… And here I am, to audition for the part of a virgin 17 year old in You Are Mine…

And I smile as I realize that you are actually dressed for the opening scene that we are supposed to rehearse, and as desired by you on the phone to me, this is the way it would be. We would not just do anything else but play out the script, from the moment I ring the bell. And I realize that my reactions are very much in keeping with the script, without any effort really on my part. I love this. This is going to be easy. I won’t really have to act. For I am this 17 year old virgin who’s actually staring transfixed at this voluptuous vixen, this ripe, mature, but fit and toned 45 year old who’s making it difficult for me to decide whether to concentrate on her heaving, almost exposed breasts with that hypnotizing pendant nestling so provocatively inside that perfumed cleavage or to lean back and drink in the sheer sensuality of the vision in front of me.

“Glad to see me, are you?” you had asked, some part of my brain reminds me. I smile shyly. You know what I am there for. I am this new actor hankering for a part in your new movie, the one you have gone to some trouble to choose. Being a method actress, you actually wanted someone totally innocent, totally virginal, someone who’s never been alone with a naked woman, whose lips have never kissed a woman’s lips. “And I do not just mean the nether lips,” you had said seductively licking your lips.

“Would you like to kiss my lips, boy?” you say, tousling my hair by way of a greeting. I almost gasp, aware that my tight jeans is bulging obscenely. My young manhood is standing at attention, hard and throbbing, hurting, making me uncomfortable in my tight Jockey and jeans. “And I do not just mean these lips,” you say suggestively, as I notice your scarlet red lips that your tongue is licking.

I gasp. Wondering what you might be alluding to. She couldn’t possibly mean, like, er, down there, I muse. I know that it is a dialogue straight from out of the script, but you seem to be so much in character. And you look good enough to eat. But I tremble as I suddenly am aware of your spicy, sensuous perfume almost oozing into my senses, making me dizzy with desire.

You are aware of the effect you have on me. Your eyes have drunk in the sight of my tenting jeans. You smile wickedly. As I am aware of your other hand on my chest. Just brushing against my nipples. My eyes are riveted on yours. And your other hand has wandered its way into my ear. Your fingers trace the outlines of my ear. I moan audibly. Surprised myself at the effect the touch of your fingers on my chest and ears has. You smile. “Like it, do you? Wait till I get my lips on them,” you murmur in my ears, your warm breath fragrant against my face.

Now I had read these words in the script, but somehow coming from your luscious red lips, these words have an immediately arousing effect on me. I can see a tingle begin in my nipples, and that is not helped by the feel and sight of your scarlet red nails on my crisp cotton shirt. I almost moan out loud as I find that it is tracing circles around my aureole. I had never thought of my nipples as an erogenous zone, but the very touch of your finger is electrifying. I can feel jolts of electricity carouse through my body, traveling south, to the very core of my manhood that is now spasmodically throbbing, and throbbing violently.

You pointedly gaze at my obscenely bulging jeans, and assuming a Mae West posture, you say, “So you sure seem glad to see me, boy, wait till my lips touch your skin, and then my tongue, and then my bare breasts, my toes, my clit, my pussy,” you smile, knowing fully well that your use of these words is driving me wild. And as you say this, you lean forward to kiss me through my linen shirt exactly over my right nipple. I moan, feeling your warm breath through the thin fabric. I gasp as you raise your head, and there is a perfect lipstick mark there. “And I am going to leave these lipstick marks all over your body,” you say, while you kiss me on my other nipple through my shirt, the symmetrical lipstick marks on both sides of my chest seem like a pattern, and I am so aroused that I could come were it not for a superhuman effort to control myself by trying to think of other things.

But my body is responding differently. I am moaning out loud by now. I am already in heaven, as you seductively brush your breasts against me, your tongue darts out teasingly, and as I wonder with longing whether it is going to reach out and touch my lips, you pause mischievously to only lick your luscious lips. I instinctively pull back a bit, aware that my hard throbbing manhood is rubbing against your navel, your belly button is bare, as your halter top leaves enough space between your low-waisted skirt and the bottom of it, while I am getting dizzy under the unfamiliar scents of a mature, ripe woman in a low-cut halter-top.

Your other hand has now left my hair and begun to caress my neck with the most neutral of touches, while you moan suggestively to me, mouthing, “O, baby” again and again, as if stroking a pet, now almost moving to my earlobe. “So, do you think you would be able to save yourself from me, virgin boy?” you ask. Your wandering fingers meanwhile are now playing with the base of my throat, exposed in my open-necked shirt, as you move your head down to my shirt and, in one violent but incredibly sexy stroke, rip the top button off with your teeth, looking up to smile at me wantonly. You raise your head, as your hand slips inside my shirt, finds my right nipple and begins to circle it with one finger. Your other hand, I notice, is repeating the motion on your own breast through your halter-top, “Ssshhhh,” you tell me. “Not a word, and not a move, else I’d stop what I am doing, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” I groan aloud and you drink in the sound like a true gourmandise – my first groan as a man, you conclude, feeling my nipple harden, as I can almost visibly see the change in yours through satin and lace.

“Ah, little man, you are now beginning to understand my power over you. I am going to make you mine,” you whisper, as I struggle with the assault on my various senses. “I am already yours,” I manage to mumble, while my hands struggle towards your breasts. You brush them aside sternly. “If you try and touch me, I will stop whatever I am doing to you. I could tie you up, but what I want to see if you have it in you to control yourself and obey simple instructions such as this,” you say. “You will not get to touch me till I want you to, whereas I will touch you wherever I want,” you say, while your hand makes its way south towards my thick, throbbing bulge, brushing against it, like a feather, fleetingly, not lingeringly at all, making me sigh, moan, groan.

You pause. Your hands rip open the rest of my buttons, the top one of which was torn off so suddenly by your teeth, revealing my strong chest. You lean towards me, throw back my shirt, yanking it out of my jeans roughly, and run the fingers of both your hands down my half-naked, well-muscled and toned arms. “Mmmm, how very grown up you are, Holden,” you murmur. “I am going to make you a man, soon. I am going to enjoy this body of yours, making it mine, with my lips, with my tongue, with my teeth,” you whisper seductively, while your hands caress me all over, moving to brush against my underarms, fingering the scant hair that has recently sprouted there. I so want to reach out and touch you, but I know that true to your threat, you just might stop. And I don’t want you to.

Then you unbuckle my belt and unzip my fly. My manhood, feeling the possibilities of release, and with my jeans unbuttoned, throbs freely against my black Jockey. I am aware that the full outline of my thick and throbbing circumcised cock can be seen in all its glory. You slide to the thick carpet and look up at me as I sit on the edge of the couch you had thrown me on earlier. You reach forward and clasp my cock through my Jockey, caressing it between both your palms. Through the bottoms of my undershorts, the thick jutting head of my cock is now peeking out. You take it between your thumb and index finger for a moment, but pause, “Get up, stud,” your voice has a sudden authority in it.

“Pull it down for me,” you order, moving to the couch and making me stand in front of you, hesitant, putty in your hands, trembling, watching you fascinatedly, as you casually raise your arms to adjust your hair. Your breasts heave up. You smile, your plump, ripe, perfumed inner arms raise your breasts through them, bringing them up to your ruby red lips, making them almost spill out of the satin and lace of your top and bra. I watch riveted, as your tongue reaches out to lick the top of your spilling breasts. I gasp, watching as if in a spell, as the pinks of your aureoles are clearly visible, and your tongue is licking it, while your hands cup your breasts, raising them upwards. “Mmmm,” you say, watching me, “Pull it down, boy, I want to see you now.”

I obey instantly. My young cock, freed from its confines finally, aroused as it has never been before, and in the presence of the woman it has always dreamed of, with so much of her scented skin showing, throbs, and points towards the ceiling, as I, suddenly shyly, try to cover it. So caught up am I in my own nakedness in front of this goddess of desire, that I almost miss your moan. “Mmmm, wow, this is scrumptious,” you whisper seductively, your one hand going towards your skirt, my eyes following the movements of your hands, as you with absolute lack of inhibition, and total abandon, slip your hand in from under your short skirt, but as I imagine caressing your clit, you tell me about what I am trying to hide: my thick, hard, throbbing cock.

“I am going to love playing with it, fondling it, caressing it, teasing it, with my hands, my dry lips first, then my tongue, gentle, soft, seductive licks all around it, before I clasp it in my luscious lips, and leave red lipstick marks all over its thick diameter, and then, and then, I am going to suck it, and take it between my breasts, make its tip rub against my nipples, then tease my clitoris over it, with it, making its tip part my juicy pussy lips…” I am so riveted and mesmerised by and caught up in your graphic description that I do not even realize how close you have snuggled up to me, your eyes never leaving my violently jerking virgin cock that seems to be reacting to the words emanating out of your mouth.

My hands as if instinctively reach for your sumptuous breasts that are struggling against the sheer satin of your top. “Don’t touch me, Holden, or I am going to stop what I am going to do to you. I am in charge, and you will play by my rules, okay, young boy?”

I find my tongue licking my parched lips, my throat suddenly dry. I don’t want you to stop. I love your words. The very sound of those words is so arousing that I can’t even begin to imagine what they describe. I lose myself in just admiring the vision in front of me. You raise your arms and pull off the top sensuously, slowly. I stare transfixed as your black satin top is raised up to first reveal the perfect hemispheres of your breasts encased in, gasp, scarlet lace. I realize that it is the same colour as that on your lips and your nails. Suddenly, you are now only in that scarlet bra, and you cup each one of them, leaning over me so that I can see how heavy, ripe, and perfumed they are. I am hypnotized by and envious of your pendant that dangles so tantalizingly in the perfumed valley of your cleavage, nestling so snugly between those two breasts that I just so want to devour, at least with my eyes.

You pose seductively, watching me intently, “Now, move your hands away boy, you are not to touch your cock. Not yet. Let me see it,” you order. Your use of the word “cock” is so arousoing, that it makes it twitch automatically.

“Tell me: do I match up to your fantasy? Am I still the stuff of your dreams in real life?” you ask rhetorically, for sure as hell you are aware of the effect you have on me. My raging hardon is a dead give away, and I am afraid the loud, frenetic beating of my heart in its ribcage would be audible to you.

“Mmmm, ma’m, you are too good to be true”

“Good is the last thing I am, boy. I am gonna be bad, very, very bad,” you say as you move towards the couch, lightly tugging me by my throbbing cock behind you, as if on a leash. I pinch myself to check if I am dreaming it all up. Or have I died and gone to heaven? You throw me on the couch, and I lay down, not daring to arch my back, and thrust my agonisingly hard manhood upwards, towards the ceiling. You smile and brush your nipples teasingly over my parched lips. “Don’t move,” you warn again, sternly, as I moan, my lips involuntarily want to just take your nipples between them, and my tongue so badly yearns to slip out and lick them. “Don’t even move your lips, no quivering, though your cock can twitch,” you laugh, adoring the sensation of my virgin mouth on your flesh. “Ah, no, I’ve only just begun,” you croon.

Very deliberately, very delicately, with the lightest of the possible touches, you move your succulent mouth down my body which has just reached manhood, stopping to annoint each of my nipples with your pointed, flicking tongue. Your warm, scented breath is intoxicating, as your mouth hovers over my manhood for a long, langurous time. But you don’t touch it, going further south, licking the insides of my strong, toned thighs.

As you kneel on the sofa, I realise that you have slipped out of your top and skirt, and you are now clad only in your bra and thong, your full body, with its rich bounty of ripe perfumed flesh is almost entirely, enticingly, exposed but I cannot see it from where I am without raising my head. You have not touched me with anything but your nipples through your bra, and your mouth, though your hands did briefly tug me through my Jockey. I grind my teeth, clench my fists in frantic frustration, as you let out a low, satisfied laugh. The laugh of a true gourmet.

“Oh, yes, indeed, you are making progress. You are beginning to appreciate the extent of my power over you. You are almost prepared for the end of the lesson”.

Your tongue travels leisurly from my thighs back to my testicles. You warm perfumed breath blows on my pubic hair so lightly, and again, a moan escapes my compressed lips. Like a line of fire, the tip of your experienced tongue runs up on the base of my straining penis and then rests for one whirring, brief moment on its tip…

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