I look up as she arrives for our hotel room assignation. God, she’s lovely. She wears a swaying flowery skirt with a cardigan and I can just make out the straps of the skimpy swimsuit I asked her to wear. Her outfit is part 50’s glamour, part girl next door, part sex kitten which makes it 100% @MissLillyWatson and I’m struck by a surge of pleasure at the sight of her. She’s a bit floaty from the spa treatment and massage I arranged and her soft hug of gratitude makes me melt.
Ever since I saw this image of Lilly, taken by the talented Mistress Elita, I knew I had to have this session. My mild (well, mildish) fetish for swimsuits first showed itself on a beach-side camping trip with an early girlfriend. Every time she tried to get dressed for the beach I’d drag her back onto the camp bed. It took hours to get out of the tent each day.
What is it that drives this fetish? Maybe it’s the way a swimsuit shapes the body, both highlighting and hiding the key areas; maybe it’s the stretchy, silky feel of the material as it moves between my skin and hers.
Within moments of Lilly arriving, the swimsuit from the picture was all she was wearing. OK, I admit it wouldn’t be much use for swimming, but I loved what it was doing to her already beautiful curves. I was in a dark, newly pressed suit, a good shirt and a tie. Yes, I wanted to see how it felt to be “that guy”, the guy in all the monochrome DomlyDom/SubbySub images that pervade Twitter and Instagram. It’s an overused trope but the truth is, it felt good. I held her close, her body against my shirt, my suit jacket half round her, admiring the image we had created in the full length mirror as we kissed.
I had her kneel in front of me, arms holding tight round my suited thighs as I leant down to spank her with a leather strap. Her grip on me tightened with each blow until she was clinging to me like a drowning person to a rock, both the source of her pain and her refuge from it.
That felt good too.
I pushed her back on the bed and smoothed my hands over her swimsuit, spreading her legs and softly massaging her clitoris though the stretchy material. The old fetish, awakened by the sight of her wearing the suit, blossomed at its touch. She smiled at me conspiratorially and we kissed again.
I find writing about sex much harder than writing about BDSM. Our time together was full of both; I spanked her over my knee through the swimsuit, then pulled it up and spanked her bare bottom. Then I pulled it aside and took her from behind. The whole scene: the sight of Lilly, the feel of her, my own hardness too, was so coruscatingly erotic and her reactions to me were so natural and strong that I orgasmed deep inside her, a really rare and beautiful thing for me to do. It was wonderful.
It was her turn, so I played sensory overload games I’ve learnt from Mistress Elita, layering pain and pleasure on different parts of Lilly’s body until she gasped out a shuddering orgasm. That was wonderful too.
God, she’s lovely.
I could cheerfully have spent the rest of our time together just enjoying Lilly’s company, but somehow our attention turned to her strappy leather harness, unworn since the dungeon session for which I purchased it. With less than half an hour of our time remaining, I buckled her into it, my dominance and her submission strongly re-asserted with every tightened strap. She looked amazing, exuding erotic appeal
The sex that followed was almost savage, primal even, me thrusting myself into her deep and hard, twisting the harness straps even tighter and using them to pull her back onto me. I don’t think I’ve been like this before; so dominant, so unrelenting, so forceful. She orgasmed twice, noisily and hard, juices flowing. To be part of that; more still, to have caused it, was one of the hottest experiences I’ve ever had.
Afterwards Lilly was soft-eyed and tender and we lay on the bed together for a while. She expressed delighted surprise at the strength of her orgasm, at the way she’d squirted onto the sheets. I tried not to be smug at having caused such a strong reaction in her.
I failed, obviously.
It’s possible I’ve had better, more fulfilling, sex but if I have it was a long time ago. A very long time ago.
God, she’ s lovely.
The only part of this session I got wrong was arranging for it to finish just an hour or so before I was going to take a no-words thrashing from an unknown, unseen Mistress on the same bed where we had just been playing. It transpires that hot, dreamy sex is not the best preparation for such a hard beating. I can’t think why that would have come as such a surprise to me, really!
I wrote about it that very intense experience here