Finally for your viewing (and other kinds of) pleasure; the second half of the story I co-authored with Alex Sturman.

Before you start, make sure to read Beauty, Part 1.

Beauty, Part 2

I always know how to make you lose control. In the bedroom at least. I am a fairly confident bitch most of the time, but there’s something about the way you saunter, and the stories you tell, and the way I always talk a little too loud in public that makes me fidget, makes me feel like a little girl when I’m with you. Often when I’m talking to you, I end up leaning over the table, my head in my hands like an adoring fan. This pisses me off. With most men I am an elusive vixen, a siren. With most men, I walk all over them. Then again, there’s a reason I’m not with most men.

Anyway, in the bedroom it’s different. Don’t get me wrong, by the end of the night I am always the one shivering, shaking, my eyes glazed over and a stunned smile plastered across my face while you snicker quietly to yourself. But usually I can level the playing field.. if only for a little while. I just have to get my tongue on your cock.

It took me a while to learn to swallow you. It was only after many nights of practice, patiently on your end and impatiently on my end, that I learned to open my mouth and throat completely to you. The first time I took you all the way into my throat, and I felt my nose against your stomach, my tongue licking your balls, I came immediately.

Tonight wasn’t much different. The combination of physical exertion, lack of air, the thrill of having your hand on my head still holding me against you and your slowly shrinking sticky cock in the back of my throat was making me so wet and throbbing I knew the instant you touched me I would cry out.

Eventually you begin to pull out of my mouth. Slowly, slowly, and just as I feel the head of your shaft slide up to the opening at the back of my mouth I feel a twitch and you stop. I look up at your eyes, my mouth and jaw slack, still full with you, the taste of your cum coating my lips and tongue. Your eyes twinkle and suddenly I know why. You begin growing hard again, still in my throat. I can’t believe it and the thrill of your rapidly growing erection as you grab my head and resume throat fucking me, coupled with the fear and excitement that you might fuck my mouth for hour upon hour without stopping makes me cum instantly. I am trembling, a pool between my knees and my mouth full of you ramming into me as the tremors overtake my body.

You pull out suddenly, leaving my mouth empty and a look of confusion and shock on my face as my orgasm shudders to an abrupt halt. You laugh. “You wanted to cum didn’t you?” You ask me, smiling and wiping a drop of cum from the side of my mouth. “You wanted me to fuck you rough, right?” you smile more softly and kiss a tear from my cheek. I’m so turned on I can’t speak, but only nod. The yes means more than just “yes I wanted that.” You know it also means “yes” to whatever you have planned for tonight. “Ok,” I think, “ you caught my attention. What the hell are we doing next?”

“Lay down,” you command me gently. I flop forward on the bed as you get up to clean yourself off and grab some water. You come back to the room and laugh gently at me. “No no,” you command, “on your back.” I flip over, aroused and surprised. “Ah, here we go,” I think. Despite our incredibly kinky sex life, you often like to finish in missionary. It gives you the most control and lets you watch my face. Plus usually by the end I can’t hold myself up anymore. This is a little quicker than normal, but you already came once so I’m not disappointed. You spread my legs but instead of climbing on top of me you kneel between my them. I’m a little surprised when you slip two fingers in me, but this is quickly overtaken by the orgasms you bring, one right after another. I love your hands – they are strong and confident and steady. Having them inside me makes me feel safe and held by a strong man. God, I love your hands.

Three fingers now and I am beginning to buck against you. Four fingers and I sit up in surprise. You grin and push me back against the bed. “Relax,” you say, fucking me with four fingers until I cum against you. When I stop contracting, you say “now don’t cum, no matter how much you want to. You’ve cum plenty tonight, so this shouldn’t be too torturous, just relax and don’t cum until I say so, ok?” “uh-huh” I moan back, trying to breath steady and staring at the ceiling so I don’t cum.

You pull out the four fingers you have in me slightly. There is a pop and I feel you coat your hand in lube and then reposition your hand and slowly begin inserting your thumb. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I think to myself. Fisting has been a fantasy of mine for a long time and I can’t believe we are doing this now. “Don’t cum,” you remind me. “ok, ok, ok,” I rattle off in rapid response. There is a pull, almost burning, but not bad, almost tearing but not quite, just an intense stretching that I never thought my cunt could do and then with one final push, you are in me.  I can feel your knuckles against the wall of my cunt like a studded dildo, but it’s different because it’s your bones, your skin, your flesh I have taken into me. You look at my face, frozen, I’m unable to move and afraid any motion will hurt. You lean your face over mine, searching my eyes. “It’s ok baby, shhh” you smile at me and bring me back to you. “Just stay with me, ok?” your voice is so calm and so gentle, the perfect soothing counterweight to the mind bending sensation happening between my legs.

You smile and twist your wrist slightly inside me. I try not to, but I can’t help arching my back. You grab me, an arm around my waist and kiss the notch of my sternum. “Relax, baby, relax. I’ve got you,” you whisper to me and I feel my body surrender to you.

You feel it too and you smile with a tenderness I haven’t seen often. You like it when I trust you this much. You are exceedingly trustworthy, but so many women have had so many bad experiences with men, most can’t let go all the way. You can push most women farther than they’ve ever gone, but there is always a moment where they fight you for control – as if they didn’t have it. Most women don’t realize the way to control is through surrender. Then again, there’s a reason you aren’t with most women.

We lock eyes and I begin to give myself over to you. You turn your hand slowly inside me, pausing when you see a minute flash of pain cross my face. You breathe slowly and intentionally, a reminder to me to follow suit. Slowly, microscopicly, glacially, you begin to move your now clenched fist back and forth, bumping up against my cervix and pressing against the flesh on the inside of my opening, flesh that never gets pushed from this angle. You can feel me getting wetter as I open to you.

My eyes start to roll back in my head with the pleasure. “No, no – stay with me,” you say. I turn my eyes back to you searching. This isn’t how it normally goes with us. We are present yes, but we let ourselves surrender to the heat and passion of the moment. Rarely is there this unbreaking connection. I look at you, a little confused, vulnerable, uncertain.

“Tonight I want all of you,” you say. “Even the piece you hide when you close your eyes in the moment of orgasm.” I am shocked you know this. “Yes,” you smile. “Even that piece. Tonight I want to see you – the real you and all of you.” You look at me, asking without asking if that’s ok, if I’m ready for what would be a fairly monumental step in our relationship. “Can I let go that much with this man?” I wonder to myself. “Does he really know what he’s asking of me?”

Still a little uncertain, but intrigued and captivated and caught completely off guard I go slack in your embrace. You are pumping your arm with more confidence, taking my opening to you as your cue to push a little farther. “I know what I’m asking,” you smile at me. “I told you when we met I would ruin you for other men. You thought I meant with my cock, or my stamina, or my skilled hands,” you say flashing a grin as you twist your hand a little to make a point. I groan in response. “And while that has certainly done it for a number of women,” you continue, “I always knew that wouldn’t be enough for you.” We both smile, knowing that my insatiable sexual appetite, whisper trigger orgasms, and adventurous nature means that I will find a way to get what I want, one way or another – be it cock, dildo, hand or as my friend and ex-lover Julie was fond of – baseball bat. Your cock, glorious as it is, would never be enough to keep me all by itself.

“The thing you want most,” you say, “ is to be seen. You perform, you even tell all your dirty secrets on stage, in public, but, you don’t think anyone really sees you. Oh, you show yourself, but you distract from it with sparkles and your dirty mouth and your too loud laugh. No one notices those off center moments. The lines of poetry that don’t sit well, that don’t match the rest of the poem. Those are the real you. And I want you to know that I. See. You. And that I want that you. The real you. All of you.” I can hardly feel my body as you say these things to me, my brain is buzzing, and my body is fighting what you are saying. “Come back,” you say. “Stay with me.”

My eyes are big with terror and worry and a flood of affection I won’t call love. Words choke in my throat and you are fucking me with your hand and a wave of sensation sweeps across my body. We start to find a rhythm, me pressing into you, my mouth open in an unconscious pout. You kiss me and ride me, gently letting go of my waist and stroking your still hard cock with your free hand. I feel a huge orgasm starting to build, waves of pleasure overtaking each other and crashing on the shore of my body. You feel it too and move slightly faster and faster until I am on the edge. “Breath and push,” you whisper in my ear, you are almost laying on top of me. I push and with a gasp I feel your hand slip out of me and in the same sharp inhale your hard cock slip in. All the way to the hilt.

You are propped up on your elbows, millimeters above me. My skin goosepimpling with the sweat and heat, as if it is trying to get closer to you. Slowly you move in and out, stroking my face, kissing my eyelids, and then my mouth – fully. Your tongue is warm and wet and full, and you pull out a “oh!” from my mouth that I had been holding on to. The orgasm that has been building continues and begins to crest. You thrust all the way in, wrap an arm around my waist and pull me down on to you so I can’t escape.

“Cum on me,” you say, your voice raspy and deep. “Only if you cum too,” I manage to whisper back in between gasps of air. You grunt and kiss me again, your cock throbbing as cum pumps from your tight balls up the shaft and as your head engorges, and you fill me completely, I feel a full body spasm over take me. You look at me and I cum harder than I ever remember cuming. I don’t break eye contact for a second and I see you cumming in me and watching me cum and you are momentarily surprised with the intensity of what I am giving you, of what you asked for.

Afterwards we lie there, cum and sweat and spit drying on our bodies. You run your hand along one rib and smooth the hair back from my face. “It’s ok,” you say. “I’ll be careful with your heart. You aren’t the first woman to fall in love with me.” You smile, perhaps a little too knowingly and kiss me.

I sigh and smile too, rolling into your chest, your strong arms around me. You are right of course. I crave realness above all else, the real you, the real me, the real connection. And I crave being really seen, really known. Of the handful of men I’ve been in love with, this has been a consistent theme. I wonder if you know the other half of the story though, and debate about whether or not to warn you, though you’ve already set the wheels in motion, so it’s too late. A warning would be useless, I decide. So I hold my tongue. We have been locked in some half playful, half serious chess match. You smile a checkmate to yourself, not realizing that my Queen comes with a deadman switch. Boom! I hear the explosion in the distance.

Most people don’t believe in sirens, seductresses, vixens. They think we are mythical creatures, out of date, even sexist. Those that do believe in us think we are dangerous, or in a few rare cases, think the challenge of taming us is exciting. For most men, I can wink and smile and get inside their heads in a matter of minutes. For men like you, though, I have to use my ultimate weapon – my heart. Because here’s the thing with us sirens. It’s not that I don’t fall in love, it’s that it’s impossible to make me fall in love with you without falling in love with me too. No one can hold two hearts in their chest. When you reach for my heart, you have to let go of yours. The thing that makes me so damn dangerous, and so damn powerful is that I can surrender my heart completely.

You didn’t even notice the switch, you were so busy watching for my surrender, and though it feels a little different in your chest, there is the same familiar beat and warmth of a heart there. “Soon enough you will discover it,” I think. “Soon enough,” and I sigh blissfully and sink into you as you stroke my head, comforting me, holding me to you as I nuzzle my head against your tender, tender chest.