The Role Player

Roleplaying was Victoria’s speciality. If you had a fantasy, she could reach into the wanton recesses of your imagination and bring it to life. No matter how filthy. No matter how sensual. It was her gift. One she was all too happy to fulfil when the young man had requested her a week prior.

Kristof. Such a lovely name to match his chiselled, handsome face. The moment Victoria saw him, she knew she had to have him. Light brown hair, blue eyes that leaned more towards a stormy grey, a strong brow, and cheekbones to die for. The look of him alone was enough to make her ache.

His fantasy was a common one—an older woman—but the intriguing deliciousness came from his request to play up a 1930s angle and to also photograph her. Now, there, some fun could unfold. Her mind had been buzzing all week over it. Sex wasn’t merely about getting off for her; it was a cerebral experience. Portraying characters. Dressing the part. Fulfilling desires. It was all a play and one where she would always have the starring role. What could be more exquisite?

And now their time had come.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said, smiling softly and sliding a hand over his thigh as they sat on a sofa. “Relax.”

He sighed and gave a little chuckle. It was endearing and sexy all at once. He didn’t look like a boy who lacked experience, but she could tell this particular situation was a first for him. How wonderful.

He struck a match against the small box and she leaned in; the flame taking to the cigarillo perched between her lips. The air was heavy with jazz and now the subtle, sweet hint of vanilla and tobacco. The smoke wafted around her in tendrils. Lingerie hugged her every curve as a long set of pearls dangled between her breasts. Her hair was swept up neatly in the fashion of the period. She knew she looked straight out of his fantasies. That was entirely the purpose. She’d worked hard to craft the room and take them both back in time.

Kristof rose and stood before her, his long, lithe fingers caressing the vintage camera as he began to snap photo after photo of his dream girl. A naughty little voyeur he was. But that’s okay. She liked to be watched. All eyes on her and no one else. Worshipped. Revered. Just as every woman should be.

The leather of the couch squeaked as she posed on her knees. Other than the music and the click of the shutter, it was the only sound in the room. She loved that, loved the way it made intimacy tangible and unspoken. Nothing existed except the two of them.

Her skin hummed as he drank her in. She smirked as she dropped the pale pink peignoir from her shoulders, revelling in the fact he couldn’t touch her. Not yet. The fantasy might be all his, but the control was all hers.

“This is for an art project, you said?” she asked, playing the role they’d discussed.

He licked his lips as their eyes met. “Yes, ma’am.”

Oh. How lovely that sounded on his lips. The ache in her core intensified. His voice was deep and melodic. How would he sound when she wrapped her cunt around his cock? Was he vocal? Or did he swallow his pleasure down?

“Your teacher must be very progressive.” She arched her back to show more of her barely covered backside and took another draw of the cigarillo. “Allowing for such risqué subject matter.”

The sweater he wore covered so much, but she could still see the outline of lean, taut muscle hidden beneath. She shifted position to sitting. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her corset. The faint outline of his cock was becoming more visible. She itched to touch him, taste him, discover the sounds he made in the throes of a skilled mouth.

Once her curiosity was brimming over, Victoria opened her legs. The air became slightly cooler as it brushed against the wetness between them. Would he perhaps be able to detect her scent along with the smoke? She hoped. He swallowed, taking her in as his lips slightly parted.

“He’s very modern, ma’am.”

That’s it, pretty boy. Look at me.

Victoria was well-aware the sheer panties hid nothing from him. She didn’t want to hide. Few things made her as aroused as being watched, being lusted for. His finger pressed the button again, capturing her lewd pose and forever committing it to memory. She’d let him keep them. Perhaps the panties, too. If he earned it. If he made her come.

“My husband won’t be home for hours, you know.” She tucked her lip between her teeth and abandoned her cigarillo in the nearby ashtray.

Teasing was over. She needed him.

Crawling over, she fetched the camera and pulled him onto the sofa. He was all too eager to let it go. His excitement was palpable, stretching between their bodies like an aura.

“What if he comes home?”

Victoria grazed a finger down his cheek and leaned in close. “Let me worry about that.”

Their lips met. His cologne was a heavy but not overbearing woodsiness that enveloped her senses. Tongues slid against each other. Kristof kissed like a man who recognised the value of who he held, knew how to treat a woman.

She pulled away slightly and trailed a hand down his chest. The desire and curiosity to touch and feel him was becoming overwhelming. In the absence of a kiss, Kristof busied his mouth against her neck as his hands traversed her breasts. He moaned so exquisitely when she cupped his hardened cock through the fabric.

“Is this for me?” she asked.

He exhaled audibly. “All for you, ma’am.” He gazed up at her, the softness of submission all over his graceful face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Smiling, she kissed him again, her hand never leaving his thick, warm cock. Time melted away as they explored one another. The music, the atmosphere, putting a spell on her, too. She straddled his lap.

“You’ve been so good,” she said, grinding herself atop him. “Do you want more?”

He gripped and massaged her ass, urging her on. “Please, Miss Victoria.”

His voice was so sensual and breathy. Who could deny it? “Touch me.” She lifted his hands to her breasts.

His eyes sparkled. Victoria continued to rock atop him as he pulled the cups of her lingerie down. Those lips around her nipples were nothing short of inspired. The way he caressed with his tongue and sucked … She had to bite her lip and stand to stay in control. Their silence added to the thrill of the moment.

Swaying, she worked her panties off. Being a tease felt so powerful, so heady. He reached out and touched her appreciatively, but otherwise was a good boy. She would allow it. She was in charge. He knew that. He’d wanted that. The look of eagerness was written all over his handsome face. It made her want to slow down, take her time, and make him squirm. A younger man begging for her attention had a power all its own, unique and intoxicating.

With another kiss, she unbuckled his belt, lowered the zipper, and pulled his trousers off. His cheeks blushed as if he was ashamed to be so hard. Delicious. As their lips met again as she straddled a leg. They were both exposed.

“It’s so nice to have a little pet to play with,” she mused with a smirk.

Impatience won out as he reached around her thigh to fondle her cunt. His mouth found her breasts once more, supping and nibbling. She moaned. She knew the type—a good, decent boy until you get him naked and then he’s insatiable. They were some of her favourite clients. Cocky was overrated. She liked obedience and worship. Men who knew their place and longed to be in it.

Her folds slipped against the muscle of his thigh. His cock was thick, heavy against her palm. So gorgeous and uncut. Even his sac was beautiful. She raked her nails through his trimmed hair and grabbed his cock. “Why me and not some young, blonde co-ed?” she questioned.

“None of the girls at my school know what they’re doing.” He smiled up at her, his lips parting in a silent moan. “Not like you.”

Satisfied with his answer, she smirked and lowered her head, sucking him in immediately. Stiff and fleshy, she worked her tongue around him. Yes, she was the one bent over, but his pleasure was at her mercy. Her hand moved in tandem with her mouth. Strands of saliva followed her mouth as she lifted off to tease him. His hips rose ever so slightly. This was why she enjoyed blowjobs so much.

The sounds Kristof made as she worked him were nothing less than rewarding. The sheer need he had for sensations only she could provide. A hand would be so imperfect, so unsatisfying after the hot cavern of her mouth. The slick motions of her tongue. She brought him to the edge and backed off.

He whined in need, moving to kiss her the moment it was allowed. “Let me taste you. Please,” he begged.

How could she ever deny him? Gingerly, they swapped places as he knelt before her. He wasted no time in pulling her forward and lapping at her slit. He drew his tongue up the middle part and down the sides. Over and over. It was as if he was tracing the shape of her pussy to his memory, locked away to be enjoyed once again later.

“That’s it,” she praised, stroking her fingers through his hair. She closed her eyes and let him devour her however he wanted.

A finger slipped slowly into her. He sucked her folds and then her clit between his ever greedy lips like a hungry slut. He was better than her best vibrator. Lust burned in her belly. Her cheeks and cunt flushed with heat. He knew what he was doing, and that knowledge was beyond sexy. Every woman deserved this. It was our birthright to be so exalted, to be enjoyed by a man who truly loved to give.

Nails raked against his scalp. Moans suffused the air around them. Her sounds spurred him on as his hand gripped her breast, massaging and pulling at her nipple. She whimpered at the edge of pain. Another finger joined the first inside her, opening her tightness even more.

She held his head. He pumped faster, deeper. What would it be like to play with him further? To blindfold him. To spank him. To mark his pretty skin. To pin him down with her knees and suffocate him with her pussy. Ideas and visions danced through her mind, her pleasure amped up by his thrusting. Her cries grew louder until her cunt clenched around his touch. Dripping, pulsing, her desire leaked from her spent hole.

She barely had a second’s pause before Kristof was sliding his bare cock against her drenched folds and teasing her entrance with its girth. Veins bulged in his hand as he gripped the base of his dick. Oh God. The moment he slipped in was pure bliss. His fingers had opened her up wonderfully, but this was something else entirely. This was divine.

Never taking his gaze from hers, his fingers busied themselves on his button-down as his hips pistoned slowly into her. His body was a masterpiece. Lean. Athletic. Chiselled. Reminiscent of a Roman statue. What woman wouldn’t want him between her opened thighs? He was a trophy, the deserved spoils of everyday life.

He leaned, taking her mouth once again. Her taste was briny on his lips and tongue as he fed it back to her before pulling away to play with her breasts. He caressed them like sweet peaches, then braced himself against the leather to push further into her. Victoria held her leg back, allowing deeper access.

“There you go. Show me how much you want it,” she whispered. Her hand slipped down to touch herself, snaking through the small strip of hair before circling her swollen clit.

This excited him and he fucked quicker, desperate to please her. He lifted her onto the arm of the sofa, then grabbed her ankles and began again. Slower now as they drank one another in. His hands soon found purchase on her abdomen and his pace hastened.

She loved how her breasts shook as he drove faster into her, reminding her what a whore she was. Even if she was in charge of the scene, even if this was her chosen profession in life, she still adored being the vessel for a man’s fantasy. Being the playground on which he explored his desires. Sexuality was multifaceted, and hers was no different.

His cock hit every sweet spot inside her. His mouth was humid against the tips of her breasts. Her cunt was so slick beneath her fingers. She wondered if he was watching. The sofa squeaked under her grip. She hoped he was. Heat blossomed in her stomach once again, melting down to her core as moans dripped from her lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His hips never slowed as he leaned in, his tongue hot against her nipple. “Ah fuck, I’m so close,” he rasped.

She chuckled, opening her eyes. “Sit on the sofa, baby.”

He obeyed, slowly pulling out to switch positions. Victoria knelt before him. Expertly, she bobbed up and down between his gorgeous thighs, molesting his cock with her mouth. She loved the way her taste melted on her tongue.

But this just wouldn’t do. She needed more.

Abandoning his cock, she mounted and enveloped him completely. The look on his face was soul achingly erotic. His mouth opened into the perfect wanton O. Eyes clamped shut. His thighs shook under her. His hands roamed over her body, caressing every curve, dip, and hollow.

“You like that, don’t you?” Her teeth raked across her lip, then she licked the seam of his mouth. “Having an older woman use you for her pleasure?”

He smirked, and she got a deeper glance at the bad boy under his good boy exterior.

“Use your words.” She undulated atop him.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He sighed, hands roaming over her hips and ass. “I love it.” His touch found her clit, never abandoning it even when she began to bounce and grind, using him as a toy.

Their bodies met when he pulled her closer, enclosing her in his arms. “Please. Please give it to me,” he whispered, gripping his ass to goad her on.

The air around them once again became a mess of her moans. He placed a kiss between her breasts as she rode out her climax, coating his cock in her wetness. Lifting up, she moved back to the floor. She went straight to work, cleaning her lust from him and urging his own orgasm forth.

Her eyes met his. “You want to come for me, baby?”

He nodded, his chest rising and falling with each stroke of her hand. That’s it. His head fell back as he gripped her arm. She was so hungry for his come. Shuddering, his climax spilled into her waiting mouth, and she swallowed every drop of it.

“Good boy.”

His eyes looked sated and happy, sparkling as he smiled down at her. Once he was composed, Kristof fetched the camera from the coffee table. “One last shot?” he asked, the hint of hope thick on his voice.

She placed a kiss on his spent cock, then stood and donned her peignoir once more. A little bit of come still remained on her lips, and she played it up to the camera whilst posing seductively. He’d done so well; he deserved a parting gift.

After snapping a couple shots, he held the camera out. “Thanks for everything.”

“Keep it.” She kissed him one last time and slipped away into the adjoining room, visions of him masturbating to the photos he’d taken swimming through her still-buzzing mind. She hoped she’d be seeing him again.