Squaring my body to the mirror, I let my eyes start at my shoulders and trailed them down my body. I examined the swells of my breasts and the pink of my nipples, noticing how they had hardened slightly in the cool air of the cottage. My eyes moved slightly lower and I turned, tilting enough to see the ridges of my ribs become visible under my skin. This led into the dip of my waist, then the curve of my hip. I had always felt somewhat self-conscious about the soft swells of my body, but as I looked at them this way I started to see them as feminine and attractive. My eyes slipped lower to the wisps of fine hair nestled at the apex of my thighs. Heat rose to my cheeks, but before I was able to look away, the man stepped up behind me and I felt him wrap his arms around me. I drew in a breath, expecting him to touch me. Instead, he rested his hands to the back of mine so that he could pick them up and bring them up to my breasts.
I allowed the man to guide my hands to rest on my breasts and felt him give a slight, leading squeeze. His hands fell away, but I left mine in place, massaging into my breasts and running them across my nipples. I felt the peaks tighten even more in response to the touch and an unexpected sensation rush through my body. My ex had never spent much time focusing on my body, giving any time or attention to giving me pleasure he didn’t think would benefit him. Now I was discovering that even that slight touch was enough to cause anticipation to build in my belly.
I traced my body with my hands in the same way that I had with my eyes, feeling the texture of my skin and the contrast of the bones beneath in some areas and the softness in others.
“Sit down.”
I had nearly forgotten that the man was in the room with me and I glanced over my shoulder in my reflection to look at him. He was standing beside the purple chair, smoothing what looked like a silky blanket over it. I took the few steps over to the chair, aware of the tingling between my thighs that had started under my touch and increased by the thought of the man there with me. I sat on the chair and felt the smooth fabric of the blanket tease my skin. As soon as I had settled into place, the man walked around to the back of the chair and reached down on either side of me to tuck his hands between my thighs. He applied pressure until I complied with it and allowed him to part my legs. I felt a twinge of nervousness and resisted the pressure. He responded my pressing a little harder. I didn’t feel forced, more encouraged, as though he wasn’t going to give me the chance to give up on what I had started.
When my legs were open, my feet curved so that just my toes touched the floor in front of the chair, he brought his mouth close to my ear.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered.
I did as he said, bringing my focus down between my parted thighs. I had never looked at myself that way and though there was a hint of discomfort in the newness of it, the longer I looked, the more intrigued I became by my own body. I tried to remember what it felt like when my ex had touched me, trying to link those sensations to what I was seeing now, but I couldn’t bring any memories forward.
“Are you wet?” he asked.
I drew in a shuddering breath.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He walked around the chair until he was in front of me and lowered back down to his knees the way that he had when he was helping me undress. Without warning, he leaned forward and drew his tongue up my core. I gasped at the intense, unknown feeling and watched him climb back to his feet.
“You are now,” he said. “Feel.”
I brought my hand down between my thighs, hesitating for only a moment before I let my fingertip slip down into my folds. I felt the wetness there, the combination of his incredibly sexy lick and my body’s own fluids. I touched the swollen pearl at the peak of my core and nearly cried out at the intensity of the sensation.
“Watch,” the man said to me. “Watch yourself.”
Feeling bolder, I looked into the mirror and watched as I explored myself. I felt the curves and dips of my petals, intoxicated by the combination of feeling intricacies of my body that I had never known were there while watching myself create the powerful pleasure. The more I touched, the more my body responded, offering up more of the silky fluids. I gathered them with my fingertips to allow them to move more easily as I experimented with different patterns and pressures to create different sensations. I was learning myself, finding things that I enjoyed that I had never known, and stirring feelings within myself that were beyond anything that I had ever experienced. A compulsion washed over me and I brought two fingers down to press them inside me. I felt the heat and wetness of my walls around my fingers and I plunged them deeper, enjoying the slight stretch they caused.
I could feel tingling heat sweeping over my skin as my breath grew faster and more shallow. I wanted to close my eyes and give myself over completely to the sensations that I was feeling, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to miss watching for even a second. Pressure was building through my hips and stomach, and I pressed my thighs further apart, opening myself more and allowing my fingers to go deeper. I turned my hand slightly so that I could touch the pad of my thumb to my clit. It took only seconds of stroking for all of the pressure within my body to surge up until it was almost unbearable and then it crashed. I screamed at the powerful explosion of sensation and pressed my fingers as hard into myself as I could, feeling my walls spasming frantically around them.
This was something that I had never felt, an all-encompassing, breathtaking experience that seemed to bring me out of myself yet connected me more with my body than I had ever been. As my body relaxed and I felt the contractions slow and stop, I let my fingers slip out and my hand rest against my thigh. My eyes drifted closed and I concentrated on the rhythm of my heart and my breaths evening out again.
I didn’t know how long I reclined there, but when I opened my eyes again, there was a warm damp cloth and a fresh towel beside me and the man was gone. I took my time to freshen up and get dressed, then started back down the path toward the main cottage at a faster pace. Fawn was sitting beside the vegetable garden, slowly watering the pumpkin vine. She looked up as I approached.
“I’m in,” I said breathlessly.
A smile came to Fawn’s lips and she stood.
“Do you know your fantasies yet?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “But I want to know.”
“Alright. Then we’ll try a little of everything. How many men would you like me to find for you?”
I thought about her question for a moment. My mind felt clear but also like it was rushing, spinning as I contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead of me. I remembered what Robin told me and felt a smile come to my lips. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.
“Seven.”
Chapter Nine
Snow
“Seven?” Fawn asked. “I arrange dates every two weeks. Are you prepared for that type of investment?”
She sounded surprised at the declaration, and I had to admit, I was a bit surprised at myself. The answer had just come out of me without me thinking through what it really meant for me to commit to three months of going down the road of being truly dirty. Now that I had said it, though, and heard Fawn repeat it to me, I knew that I was making the right decision. The thought of what I had experienced in the other cottage sent another thrill of arousal and desire through me and I felt my body starting to heat up again. If I could create this type of feeling in myself, I wanted to know what it was like to let a man explore my body the same way and nurture it beyond what I could accomplish on my own. The realization was powerful, finally helping me to understand exactly what Fawn had meant when she insisted that this experience was all about me.
“Yes,” I told her. “Is that alright?”
“That is more than alright. I always appreciate when my guests are truly committed to the experience and what they can achieve here.”