Author's Note:

My darlings, as I was editing this chapter to post, I decided it might need a small disclaimed, namely a reminder that this story is of the mature nature. I'm also posting a DOUBLE update today, and these two chapters are the most risqué of this whole story. Also, there is a signature Katya Kolmakov KA-BOOM! at the end of the second part of today's update, and I can almost hear your screams of indignation regarding my love for cliff hangers.

Hope you enjoy!

Love,

Katya xx

***

"So how is it?" she asks, settling more comfortably on his raging erection. Straining length? Organ of pleasure? Shag rod?

She giggles at her own mental antics. This word game in her head isn't her - often unwanted - obligatory narration. It's her being giddily happy and having lashings of fun.

"How's fulfilling my long time sex fantasy, with a gorgeous woman sitting on my cock? Quite good, thank you very much."

He's grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you enjoying the design?" She points at the black fur on the handcuffs around his wrists. "I have light purple ones too, but thought you'd like to go for something more macho."

"I'm quite comfortable in my masculinity, thank you very much."

His rightful indignation is almost convincing, and then he snorts, ruining the illusion. She smiles so widely that her cheeks hurt. That was a cliché. Olivia's beaming? Her loving smile is radiant?

"Liv, are you writing in your head when I'm all spread to your consumption here?"

He makes big eyes in fake terror, and she laughs out loud.

"I can share the narration if you want. How's 'she could feel his member swell under her yearning centre?'"

He starts shaking with laughter.

"Liv, I'm in handcuffs, we are both almost naked. Shouldn't we be shagging, passionately, with all possible determination, maybe even with somber faces?"

"Why? We do that anyway. And right now it's somehow funny. Is it bad?" She has a moment of doubt, but his grin is indeed mischievous, sparks dancing in his glacial eyes.

"OK, tell me more." He probably wanted to wave his hand in an inviting gesture, but all he managed was to wiggle his fingers.

She places her hands on the insides of his wrists and rakes her nails gently along his forearms, onto his biceps, and then she presses her right palm into his pectoral muscle, supporting herself on a straight arm, while her other hand splays on his stomach.

She leans, and her eyes are right in front of his. She sincerely hopes they're burning with greedy lust.

"I can do whatever I want with you right now. Bring you to the brink of ecstasy and leave you craving completion. There are so many ways of doing it. It's called edging, or surfing, or peaking."

She's whispering, he's not smiling anymore. She doesn't know how about her eyes, but his are definitely burning.

"And when you finally reach the peak of pleasure, you might experience a pleasurable, almost euphoric state, and if I do it right, such a climax can create changes within an individual's perceived consciousness."

He gulps. Like a cartoon character. The way his throat moves makes her shift on his cock. Her knickers are wet, and she thinks his underwear underneath her probably is too. She considers taking off her soft Myla bralette. She might be feeling like a goddess of sex right now, and not a skinny ginger shy about her physique.

"And how is it done?" Rasp, his voice is nothing but a rasp.

"Well, you see, John..." She sits up straighter and looks at him down her nose, hopefully in a haughty manner. "I've learnt your tells by now. I can guess when you're close. Your breathing changes, and you start biting your lip. Your shoulders tense. And at that moment I will probably take off whatever I have around your cock."

His eyes widen, and she smirks. She's so turned on that she doesn't even question where this ballsiness comes from. Writing this is one thing; saying it to a real life person at nine o'clock on a real life bed with jolly stripy sheets is quite a different thing. It's not even dark yet!

"And then I'd push you again, and you'd be very close..." Her hand slides into his pants, and his hips jump up. She wraps her fingers around the base of his cock. "And then I'll stop."

In direct contrast to her words, she starts moving her hand. He takes a large gulp of air with an open mouth.

"And then I'll start again..." Her fingers freeze on him, and he makes a low humming noise. "And stop..." she says and moves her hand while carefully sliding down.

And then she quickly jerks her hand out of his underwear and presses her cheek over his erection through his pants.

"God, Liv..."

"Yes?" she asks in an innocent tone, but judging by how he's panting, he's not going to answer.

She hooks her fingers at the waist of his pants and pulls down, careful not to jerk. His breathing is loud and laboured.

While pulling his underwear along his legs - and those are very long legs - she ponders what exactly it'll be that she's going to 'have around him.'

And then she crawls up and hovers over him, her face level to his. She's just had the most delightful idea.

"Choose your torture, John. What's it going to be? Hands? Mouth?" Seriously, the way his throat moves does things to Olivia. Wonderful, wonderful things. "Feet?"

He gives out a low, lustful groan. He's already slightly cross-eyed and clearly has trouble concentrating. Liv is doing very well, isn't she?

"Sit... Can you, please... sit?" He sounds choked.

"Sit?"

She sits on his cock and then gives it a gentle rub. Her knickers are in the way and feel a bit too rough, so she lifts her bum and takes them off. Although he's hardly capable of forgetting what the two of them are doing here, she makes sure her hand keeps him occupied while she shakes off her happy smalls with the pattern of little penguins on them.

And then she presses onto him. It feels bloody amazing! She's so wet she slides easily, and his cock is hot and smooth. She moans loudly.

"Not there... Sit..."

It seems John has lost all his vocabulary. She continues moving gently up and down the length.

"Where then?" she asks.

And then she understands what he's all about. And then she finds out that a wave of heat licking her nape isn't just an expression either. Her whole body flushes, as if she just jumped into a scorching shower.

He's almost lying down, his shoulders are only slightly propped up on a pillow, and his arms are straight and spread. So, what he's just suggested - if she got him right, of course - is possible. It's also something she's never done before.

She has described it. Once. In Heal My Soul, her most risqué novel, where both protagonists were experienced lovers, none of the sappy introducing her to the world of carnal pleasures. The book was unpopular. Just as her editor predicted, people didn't want to read about a bit more of a 'real' shag. They wanted fairy tales.

Putting it in simple words, this position is no fairy tale. It's the next level of realness. And the next level of trust. For both sides. She's studying his expression. Let's face it - damn his contagious love for puns! - she's tempted. She's never tried it, which makes her additionally aroused. And both of them are clearly enjoying his submissive, helpless position.

On the other hand, there are so many elements to it. Interestingly enough, though not the kinkiest of mild erotic practices, this position causes a radical, almost even split in attitudes. Half of the population discussing it on forums claims it's all about the man and his pleasure, and how they should feel rewarded when it is allowed to them. Another half claims it's the best oral a woman can receive, and they encourage every woman to cajole their partners into it.

There are so many things that can go wrong, of course. It might become plain awkward. One wouldn't want to suffocate one's wonderful boyfriend!

Also, many women state they hate the position. It's very exposing. And, after all, oral sex is about receiving pleasure, and not doing all the work! Although, there is this convenient headboard here, and she can hold on to it...

She chews her bottom lip, and then she sees his eyes sober up a bit.

"Liv, we don't have to– I mean–"

He's being John, considerate, understanding, all for consent - someone she loves and wants and trusts. She pulls off her bra and stands on all four over him.

"You do realise you'll have to work twice as hard? You don't even have hands to help you out."

She hopes her salacious tone delegates her consent and the mad arousal that makes her whole body shake.

"I'll do my best..."

He raises an eyebrow, and for a moment she's reminded that all his submissiveness is just a part of a game. There's a hard bloke somewhere there, the one who'd taken control and stuck it to her parents. Also, someone's self-esteem is clearly growing these days. Just look at this predatorial smirk! What a beast!

Well, let's see then.