Free Erotica - Tying Up Loose Ends

"You've been dating over a month," Carla said with a tone that struck Aimee as far more suited to a barrister than a best friend.

Aimee sighed, "Still no closer to the bedroom, however."

"Maybe he's just not that in to you—or maybe you're not really into him." Her friend adjusted the soaring heights of her backcombed bob in the café window. "Have you really thought about it?"

Aimee laughed. "I think about it all the time."

Carla gave her the look. "I didn't mean sex. I meant your interest in him. Maybe you're just going through the motions because there's nothing else on the horizon."

Stifling a desire to strangle her friend—who it must be said, never found herself without a brace of men to choose from come the weekend—Aimee shook her head.

"No, definitely interested. Trust me." Her thighs tingled even now as Aimee recalled the daydream she'd had that morning as she lay in her bath, picturing Marshall slipping through the door to offer to scrub her back. Mmmm, those big hands of his would feel awfully good on her soapy skin.

Carla snorted. "Well, then you need to find out if he's just too polite or he's treading water with you. If so, it's well time to give him the push. Plenty of trout in the river as they say."

"You idiot." Aimee laughed but she had begun to wonder. She knew Marshall was very reserved when they started going out. They'd known each other sort of, friends of friends, but the day Aimee had finally realized that he ran a local bakery she frequented, things changed. She'd asked him out for coffee on the spot as he put the finishing touches on those white chocolate wonders with consummate skill. His artistry amazed her.

Marshall must have enjoyed their impromptu date because he phoned her up and asked her out for dinner that weekend—and each week since. But no closer to the bedroom, indeed. Maybe it was just platonic for him.

Yet she noticed the way his eyes swept her body, the way his hand traced her spine before settling in the small of her back as Marshall let her precede him into a restaurant. Aimee sighed again.

"Be direct," Carla said, getting up to shrug into her sleek leather coat. "You owe it to yourself."

Aimee kissed her friend's cheek in farewell and smiled, but she knew that her normal directness wasn't what the situation called for. If there was a key to Marshall's heart, she would have to unlock it carefully, not try to jimmy the lock.

She had offered to make dinner for the baker that night. Aimee saw it as a chance to impress Marshall in the arena he knew best. While not a brilliant cook, Aimee knew how to make a few surefire dishes that were both simple and pleasing. Surely Marshall would appreciate the rosemary chicken and roasted artichokes her own mother swore by.

"That smells wonderful!" Marshall announced when Aimee greeted him at the door to her flat. They exchanged kisses on both cheeks—warm and friendly, but no more than that. Aimee admired again his warm face and broad shoulders. How great it would feel to have those arms around her! Let's see how the evening goes, she scolded herself. As they stepped into the kitchen she held out an amber-coloured drink for him. "Salut!"

Marshall sniffed it and then drank. He grimaced. "What's that? It's awfully strong."

Aimee laughed. "It's an old Italian recipe. Goes with the dinner." Never mind that I made it up of vodka, gin, lime and bitters.

Marshall took another sip. "I don't think I can have more than one of these," he chuckled. "You might have me dancing on the table."

"Don't worry, there's just wine with dinner." But Aimee made sure to keep pouring the montepulciano whenever Marshall's glass seemed low. Not that she wanted him drunk—just a little more relaxed than usual. Aimee kept up a lively banter during dinner that hid her nerves well, she thought.

"That was fantastic," Marshall said, leaning back and groaning as he put down his fork after a last bite. "I don't think I can move."

"I guess dessert's out of the question then." Aimee laughed. "We can just sit and relax for a bit." She poured a little more wine in his glass.

"Oh, I think I've had enough wine, too. You've been a good hostess, Aimee. Thank you so much."

"You're too kind. It's one of the old family recipes. It always reminds me of childhood." Aimee laughed again. "We used to play games after dinner then. Truth or Dare was always the favorite."

"I don't think I've ever played that," Marshall said. "With us it was just football with anything resembling a ball. Usually ended with us breaking something and my dad yelling at us." They both laughed.

Aimee felt a curious prickling sensation at the back of her neck that spurred her on to follow her impulse. "Truth or dare?"

Marshall looked at her, grinning. "Ha, um—let's say, truth."

"Have you ever…dropped something unpleasant in a customer's cake batter on purpose?"

He laughed out loud. "What makes you ask that?"

"Truth," she reminded him. He grinned and Aimee had a moment to reflect again how much she enjoyed seeing Marshall's warm smile.

"Well, okay there was this one time." Aimee clapped her hands in delight. "It was this awful woman from that snooty advertising company across the street. Just a little too much salt, not enough to ruin it, but enough to make her clients unhappy."

"Oh, you evil mastermind!" Aimee laughed. "James Bond better watch out."

Marshall narrowed his eyes at her. "All right, clever clogs. Truth or dare?"

"Truth!"

"Have you ever…stolen something valuable?"

"Oh sure," Aimee answered at once. "My brother's Action Man doll."

"It's not a doll, it's an Action Man figure." Marshall scolded. "And it's not that valuable."

"It was to him! He cried." Aimee countered, pouring more wine in their glasses. "Truth or dare?"

"If I take a dare am I going to have to sing naked on the terrace?"

"Is this something you've been dying to do?" Aimee laughed.

"Is that the question?" Marshall's face was a little pink. Aimee couldn’t be sure if it were the wine or the slightly salacious suggestion.

"No, but let me turn it into one: is there a sexual fantasy that you've never had the courage to try?"

If Marshall's face had been pink before, it had become scarlet. "Oh, I—ha, that's silly…"

"Truth or dare," Aimee repeated, feeling the warmth in her own cheeks as they flushed, too. The anticipation titillated deliciously. "What's it going to be?"

"Well," Marshall bit his lip and looked down at the table. "There was this fascination I had since I was little, one that somehow never went away, from playing, you know."

"Action Man?" Aimee giggled, feeling the wine warming her blood.

"Cowboys and Indians," Marshall said, blushing furiously.

"Does this have anything to do with tomahawks?"

"No, um…with, um, tying someone up."

"Someone?" Aimee grinned.

"All right, a girl." Marshall covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe I'm telling you this!"

"So you could have your way with her?" Aimee poured more wine into his glass. "Sounds kind of hot."

Marshall toyed with his glass for moment. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to let me tie you up." He seemed afraid to look up.

"All right." Aimee got up. "I'll be right back." She ran down the hall to her bedroom and started pulling out drawers. Grabbing every scarf she could find, Aimee headed back to the dining room and tossed them on the table. Then she settled back into the chair slowly, resting her arms on the chair's arms.

"Ready." Marshall's expression was both eager and a little apprehensive, as if she might change her mind any second, but Aimee shivered in anticipation of his touch. He picked up the blue silk scarf her aunt had bought in Paris and walked behind her chair.

"You're my prisoner," he said, his voice much huskier than normal, "So you have to be blindfolded." Marshall wrapped the soft folds around her head and tied them snugly. He plunged his hands into her hair below the scarf and Aimee enjoyed the feel of his fingers as Marshall pulled her hair out of the way, tucking it into the scarf. The whisper of his breath on her neck made her long to feel his lips brush her skin.

He moved away and then returned to begin wrapping one of the wool scarves around her left wrist. The scratchy yarn made her flesh tingle—or perhaps it was the suspense of wondering what Marshall would do. The unaccustomed immobility caused her skin to prickle all over.

"Is that too tight?" he asked, his voice soft as he lashed her other wrist to the chair.

"No, it's fine," Aimee answered, her own voice husky now. God, she was wet already. The warmth of arousal coursed through her flesh. The anticipation grew. I wonder if it's making him hard? She licked her lips.

Marshall moved behind her again, dropping another scarf around her waist and tying it tightly, though it had to be the Irish woolen one and it wouldn't stay that tight. But he grabbed another one and wrapped it higher, gradually tightening it until the fibre sat taut against the bottom of her breasts, raising them slightly. Her nipples hardened. Aimee could hear Marshall's ragged breath behind her. His fingers were warm when they slipped down the front of her blouse unbuttoning it to reveal her best lacy bra.

She groaned as he sought out her nipples, circling them with his thick fingers before roughly grabbing her whole breasts with each hand, kneading them and he leaned down to kiss and bite her neck. Aimee gasped with delight, her breaths coming quick and shallow. "Oh god, that feels fantastic!"

Marshall suddenly stopped and pulled away. Aimee whimpered with disappointment, then felt the chair move under her. Without warning, Marshall pushed up her skirt and Aimee gave a brief prayer of thanks that she had gone barelegged this warm summer night. Tights would have been such an inconvenience!

His hands rested on her thighs, sending shocks of delight through her body. Aimee yelped with surprise when she felt him nip first one leg, then the other. The cold air told her that her knickers must be soaked and the caress of his finger along the lacy edge of the fabric made her shiver.

Marshall slipped a finger under the elastic and into the wet warmth of her cunt. Aimee nearly sobbed with delight. He slid the finger out and replaced it with two and Aimee groaned and tried not to come right then. It was too soon. But her body throbbed with the urge as he reached up to tug down her panties.

Aimee obediently lifted herself to help him slide the wet fabric off her legs, but next moment Marshall tied her ankle tightly to the leg of the chair before lifting her other leg to rest it on his shoulder.

"Time for dessert," he murmured. Aimee braced herself, but when his lips enclosed her clit, she knew she couldn't last long. She let out a low moan as he sucked at her tender skin. When he jammed his strong fingers inside her again, she cried out as her flesh spasmed around him and her body jerked against the restraints. He kept his mouth glued to her hard little bud as her thighs shook with powerful tremors and she came, gasping.

Marshall finally let his fingers slip from her warm depths and touched their tips to her lips as he rose. "I think I will need some more dessert," he said as Aimee took his slick fingers into her mouth. He pressed his rigid cock against her bound hand and she caressed its heat with her fingertips.

"Truth or dare," Marshall said, leaning down to kiss her slowly, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, holding her bound arms tightly. It wasn't possible to answer him just then, but Aimee figured either choice was bound to lead to sheer bliss. As Marshall pulled away from the kiss, she heard his zipper descend and Aimee opened her mouth for a treat.

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