I once told a beautiful escort, with whom I was lucky enough to be playing kinky games, that, of all her wonderful atributes, it was her back I found most enticing. Her shoulders slumped a little, perhaps disappointed that I seemed to have passed over her beautiful face, her outrageously spankable bottom and her sparky intelligence. But these attributes were all self evident when we first met, while her beautiful, perfectly sculpted back had been revealed to me slowly; unwrapped, touched, stroked, carefully explored one vertebrae at a time.
I enjoy a beautiful face like a bon vivant enjoys a glass of wine, drinking it all in at once. A beautiful back I appreciate like a connoisseur with an aging Bordeaux; I savour it slowly, delighting in its complex layers of character as they disclose themselves.
Backs are all so wonderfully different and they trigger correspondingly varying chains of thought, ranging from the sensual to the violent.
You, with your mature, richly featured back; perhaps slightly too covered in flesh for your liking, but perfect for the deep massage I have in store for you. You, I want to lay on clean towels on a firm bed, soft music playing. I am going to rub your back with scented oil, messaging it deep into your flesh, moving your skin around over your ribs, working your spine along its full length, delving, defining, outlining, pushing. Finally, hand newly coated with oil, I shall start at your neck, fingers pointing south, and make a single smooth journey along the valley of your spine into the deep cleft between your buttocks. Without pause for consent I’ll push a long finger into your arse, ignoring the gasp of surprise that turns to a sigh of pleasure as I work it in and out, slipping my other hand under you to stroke your clitoris until the shuddering release of your orgasm.
And as for you, with your still youthful back revealed by your deeply cut ball gown; slim but not skinny, shoulder blades barely suggested beneath lightly muscled flesh. You, I shall follow across the ball room and, as you find yourself briefly alone, I’ll remove the champagne glass from your willing fingers, grasp your hands and place them against the wall as I whisper the command “Still” in your ear. My hands will move smoothly over the beautiful contours of your back, stroking the cool, silky skin before sliding them, one each side, beneath the fabric of your dress and around your body, cupping your bra-less breasts, squeezing firmly as I lean my body against you, letting you feel the pressure of my stiff cock. I’ll suck and then bite your ear lobes, relishing your answering pressure against me. I’ll leave you then with just a soft kiss at the top of your spine; leave you uncertain what just happened or why you let it happen; knowing only that you wanted my exploration to continue.
And what of you? Do you play tennis; swim maybe? Perhaps you are a rower. Strong shoulders, bronzed skin stretched tight over ridges of long muscle; the back of someone who trains, trains hard. What can I have in mind for you? Prepare yourself because yours is a back for flogging. I’ll start with a soft flogger and whip you all over with it, back, thighs and chest, offering you not pain but sensation, wakening the nerve endings, making you feel alive. I’ll switch to my heavier whip, the leather tails moving the air across your already sensitive skin before striking. My flogger will roam freely over the whole of your beautiful back; now one side, now the other; now higher up across your shoulders, now lower, allowing the tails to wrap around, biting at the side of your breasts. Stroke after stroke. I will be relentless, making you gasp, as you try to process one blow before the next arrives. I want to mark you; mark you enough for you to relive my flogging when you glimpse your back in the mirror tomorrow. When it’s over, as your breathing calms, I will take a long drink of cold wine and transfer it from my mouth to yours, lingering for a prolonged Gavi di Gavi flavoured kiss of appreciation and awe at your beauty.
And of course there will be other backs that will trigger other thoughts; sensual, sexual thoughts of touching and stroking, of pain and pleasure, of appreciation and wonder.
For a beautiful back is truly, a wonderful, wonderful thing.
More, though perhaps less punished, backs here: