Aftermath

You’ve yet to take your belt to her. So far that’s just reserved for me. But not for long.

I make sure the door closes quietly behind me. The hotel is quiet at this time, even in a city like this that never really sleeps. I catch sight of myself in the mirrored lift lobby. My eyeliner smudged across my cheeks, lips bitten red and raw. Your shirt pulled hastily over my slip dress, crumpled - a bright red streak of lipstick at the collar which I turn up as the lift arrives. I rake my hands through my hair again and pull the volume of blonde waves into a knot at the nape of my neck. The bruises from your teeth and and hands threatening to develop, the ghostly outlines of our play. I dig through my hand bag and apply a slick of lip gloss, lick my thumb and run the worst of the mascara from my cheek bones. I look like I have been fucked. Well. And hard.

You were both asleep so soundly. I couldn’t bear to wake you. A tangle of sheets and sweat and skin.

The cab is quick and quiet. The lights of the early morning flicker past, and the blanket of a winter means I am blessed with the cover of night awhile longer. The frost makes the stairs up to our flat treacherous, especially in these heels. They’re not meant to be walked in. They look so much better dangling off my feet, thrust over your shoulders, as you push my thighs against my body, knees high, stretching, opening.…

I slip them off as I push my key through my door, the relief is enough to make me groan. The soft glow of the hallway light illuminates my reflection in the entrance way mirror, a kinder view of my dishevelment. I pin a polaroid from last night carefully in the space next to the others. Her mouth wide, and wet. I loved this. From a week ago. Just before you pushed your cock between her lips. Another, the silhouette of my back as I unzip my dress. You took that I think, or was it her? And then the one from last night. Her fingers in your mouth, the nail polish a pop of pink against your stubble, chipped a little from where you’ve bitten it. Close up always. So intimate. And almost anonymous. Our mementos

I run the shower hot as I can take it. Step out of my dress, your shirt discarded into the laundry too. My underwear is still at the hotel. You had used my thong to tie her hands above her head, not that you needed to restrain her. Her body was so flush against mine, my legs framing her sides, her head resting on my shoulder, me toying with her nipples as you made her come, your face wet with her every time you locked your eyes with mine. You made her shake, I tightened my thighs to hold her steady as she sobbed your name. Waves and tremors through us both

I hadn’t worn a bra, had I? No… You like the way my tits move in this dress. The way you can trace the outline of my nipples. You made her bite them. She was so nervous. Like she might go too far. I had to coax her, as she slipped the straps of my dress over my shoulders. Her pink tongue so hesitant at first, and then hungry, my hands in her hair as she tried her teeth out for the first time. Baby steps, darling. But what a quick study.

My cunt aches as the water rushes over my skin. The memory of us, just hours before rushing back. The stickiness between my thighs, the aftermath of your cum, inside me too. The bright red welts across my thighs from your belt. Her eyes so wide as she watched. Her fingers slipping into her underwear but still flinching every time it made contact with my bare skin. Her breath hot and fast. You’ve yet to take your belt to her. So far that’s just reserved for me. But not for long.

Pace is the trick, you say. As we open ourselves up more. As she climbs in

We met her just a few months ago. A bar late at night. She had cancelled once before and I was sure she wasn’t going to follow through. The coy suggestive pics on the app we had met on, her wobbly inability to commit to dates. Her first time playing with a couple. Her naivety is alluring. But when she arrives we know.

I want to watch you make her cum.

I say this just loud enough so she can hear as she gets up to get a drink. Only a few hours later I get my wish. Your cock buried inside her, her eyes glazed, skin flushed, the small whine she made and you circle her clit and I cover her mouth with mine. She tastes like tequila and a sweetness that is only her. We see each other every week now. Less tequila, but that sweetness remains. The first time I taste her cunt too, her clit already so swollen, her hips squirming as I slip my fingers inside her. Before I follow with my tongue, wide and firm. I can almost still taste her now, the steam clouding my vision as I towel my skin down and slip on my robe. An hour until I need to be at work.

You left early?

A message pings up as I jump onto the train. The sliding door reflection catches my pinned hair and red lip. Your message seems to come from another world entirely. An attached picture of her sleeping face on your chest, the picture of peace.

Early meeting, but enjoy her. For me? Don’t forget the polaroids x

The day passes in a blur. I catch myself adjusting the collar on my short to cover your teeth marks. A message pings through and I excuse myself to the washroom, and lock the door. The fullness of her breasts just cropped. A close up of her skin, slick. One of your hands wrapped around her hair. I know then she’s gagging on your cock, just out of shot. The kick in my cunt is almost to much to bear. I tug my underwear down my thighs and slip my fingers between my legs. I am soaked. I bite my lip as I type

Baby. Let me see, I want to watch you?

A video then of her perfect ass bent over for you, your cock in your hand as your slick up the tip, her cunt so wet, so ready. I bite on my hand to stifle a groan as I watch you push into her. Your hand on the small of her back, the way her back arches up so you can can thrust deeper, as my fingers find their way inside me too. I watch it three times and make myself cum. Hot and fast. Before I pull up my underwear, unlock the door, wash my hands and return to my meetings. Not even a smudge.

When I unlock the door to our flat I see the polaroids scattered on the floor. All the way to our bedroom. Pictures of her. Of me. Of us. I pull my dress over my head, step out of my underwear and follow the trail.

To you. My love. Always you.