Liaisons in Venice - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Aphrodite

Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,
‘Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there.”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again.

Mary Howitt


First Taste of Dessert

He seemed nervous, but I was very aroused as we walked towards the lift. Light-headed too. The conversation over dinner had taken so many unexpected turns. Imagine him being a sex researcher! Would that make him particularly good in bed? Knowledgeable, responsive? Or would it make him clinical and rational, out of touch with feelings, desires and needs – his and mine?

I was already stimulated by the thought of picking up a stranger and taking him up to his own room for a night of sex. It built up more when he agreed so readily to join me for dinner. But when he started talking about orgasm research, I could hardly contain myself. I was pretty sure he was responding to my heightened erotic state – my pheromones perhaps – even if he was impervious to other cues. He didn’t seem to talk readily about his own feelings, but the bulge in his crotch gave him away. It showed that his subconscious was working!

We reached the 5th floor and the lift doors opened.

“Room 1069? Really!” I said. “Is that significant?” I was hoping to draw him out on the ‘69’, to bring oral sex into his subconscious, if not into the conversation.

“No,” he replied, “that's 1066 you are thinking of – the Battle of Hastings. I still remember the book we had at school: 1066 And All That. Did you have it too? A memorable way to learn about the conquest of Britain.”

Incorrigible, I thought, I don’t believe this! Is he for real?

“I’m just talking about the 69 part of it," I interjected. "And after tonight, all going well, I’m going to write a book entitled '1069 And All That'. It will be a memorable way for readers to find out about the conquest of Doctor Robert King. The sub-title will be: 'The good Doctor King à la carte!

I thought for a moment that he might notice I’d used his name, and wonder how I knew it. We hadn’t introduced each other by name – I’d avoided that deliberately to add to my stranger fantasy – but I’d seen his signature when he paid for the drinks.

He started to fumble with the swipe key, and I couldn’t restrain myself any longer. I turned him round, pushed his back against the door, and kissed him hard. He moaned, and returned the kiss with great fervour, dropping the swipe card as he put his arms round me in a strong embrace. We kissed for ages, hardly breathing, tongues flicking, probing, entwined, and exploring, lips barely touching, then crushing hard together. His hands were all over my body; on the sides of my head; round behind my neck; on my breasts; round my back; cupping my bum drawing my hips into him. And then I jumped as one hand slid between my thighs and up to my crotch. I pushed down against his warm hand as he encircled my waist with his other arm, almost lifting me off the floor in his passion.

My pulse was racing. I'd read somewhere that some people can faint when they have a long-anticipated, passionate kiss. Now I knew that could be true. I broke off and bent down to pick up the swipe and put it in the lock. I was still breathless as I opened the door. If I’d had any breath left, the sight of the room that greeted me would have taken it away. It was a foyer, or a reception room; or what I’d call a parlour.

Will you come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly?” I mis-quoted. “Are you the cunning spider, Dr Robert King. Are you out to ensnare a naïve, defenceless fly using seduction and flattery?”

“Oh, I very much doubt that you are defenceless,” he retorted. “Or naïve! And the cunning one is you. I was caught up in your web the moment I saw you sitting up at the bar. To struggle is futile, I told myself, when you came over to pick me up in the bar.”

“Wait a minute!” he exclaimed as we moved through the sitting room and into an enormous bedroom. “What’s happened here... this isn’t as I left it.”

There was a fire flickering merrily away on one wall, and the table in front of the fire was adorned with a dripping champagne bucket filled with ice and a bottle of Dom Pérignon, champagne glasses, a single red rose, and lit candles on the table in front of the fireplace. The bed was turned down invitingly, with liqueur-filled chocolates on the pillow.

“This is the honeymoon package all right,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

What struck me was the size of the bed. It dominated the room. And it was a 4-poster... with a canopy. Very classy, not a tacky, flimsy one.

“Were you planning all along to pick someone up tonight?” I asked him teasingly. “Did I ruin your plans? Who did you have designs on? Was it a sultry sex researcher at the conference? Or maybe the reception girl at the front desk? I heard her flirting with you when you were checking in and I’ll bet she’d have been up for it.”

He was so easy to tease. He blushed. “No, no…" he stammered. "It honestly wasn’t my doing. This must just be standard service for the honeymoon suite. Housekeeping probably didn't know that my stay was an upgrade, not a honeymoon.”

I changed the subject. “Ahhhhh! Dom,” I said as I popped the champagne and poured us both a glass. “I like Dom... a lot. Do you?”

I emphasised the ‘Dom’ meaningfully, but it didn’t draw any obvious reaction. I was already feeling the warming, liberating effects of half a bottle of wine and the fire, perhaps enhanced by the stimulating topics of conversation, but I felt that another glass might help me to keep my resolve if I was to see my plan through... to complete the enactment of my seduction fantasy.

He didn’t know it yet, but he was going to take me, ravage me, fuck me. But I wanted him to go down on me first. I needed him to. I desperately wanted to feel his tongue sliding up the inside of my thighs and flicking my clitoris, and then continuing, rhythmically, in just the right places. Just like I’d described to him over dinner. I hoped that my subliminal messages, my NLP techniques, had been effective: relating my fantasies, joking about 1069, emphasising the double entendre of ‘Dom’ in Pérignon.

Was he sufficiently primed to do everything I wanted, everything I had planned... while believing it was what he wanted?


Come in my Parlour

I kicked off my shoes and slipped out of my jacket, looking around for somewhere to hang it. Why are there never enough hooks in hotel rooms? There was one behind the door. As I reached up to hang my jacket, I felt his hands circle me from behind and his lips and tongue on the back of my neck. He was nibbling my ear lobe. Frozen to the spot, I closed my eyes and moaned with pleasure. His hands were cupping my breasts, his fingers delicately exploring for where my nipples were starting to stand upright beneath my bra.

I exhaled and moaned again as his hands started undoing the buttons of my blouse from behind. His whole body was pressed against me, his mouth on the nape of my neck, his chest on my back and the hard bulge of his erection pressing against my buttocks.

One hand went up the back of my now loosened blouse and expertly unhooked my bra, while his other hand continued to play with my erect left nipple. My bra was strapless, so it dropped to the floor, releasing my breasts. With instinctive modesty, I covered them with my hands! The irony of that didn’t escape me, after immodestly telling him so many personal, intimate details over dinner; even a detailed description of the fantasy and orgasm I’d had that afternoon.

He put his hands on mine, held them and lifted them up above my head, in a diving pose. I could feel his hot breath brushing the hairs on the back of my neck. God it was stimulating, and I could feel a warm wetness developing in my crotch, and an aching desire deep inside me.

Then I felt him slip a soft loop of some soft material over my hands and around my wrists. He quickly added three or four turns, and tied it off in the middle. Very deftly. What was he doing? This wasn’t part of my fantasy!

“Come in to my parlour…” he whispered in my ear, repeating my own words. You are in my web now. You can struggle, or you can submit and let the experience take you. It will be the same outcome.”

A shiver of excitement and nervous anticipation shot through me. OK, this wasn’t part of the fantasy I had so carefully planned to replicate tonight, but this had been another, frequent fantasy of mine. To be tethered and taken – by a sexually voracious stranger.

He turned me round to face him, back against the door where I’d hooked my jacket, and he looped the end of cord tying my wrists over the hook on the door. I felt very exposed with my arms over my head like this. My blouse was unbuttoned and bra gone. He cupped my breasts with his hands and leant forward to kiss me long and hard on my lips. He grabbed my buttocks and pulled himself in towards me. I could feel his erection pressing against my pubic bone, pinning me between the weight of his body and the door behind me. He moaned through the kiss, as he rotated his hips so as to put more pressure on his cock. My pelvis responded automatically.

Then he let me go and moved away, leaving me sort-of suspended on the back of the door. He went over to the bedside drawer, from which he produced a blindfold, matching the colour of the satin rope he's tied my hands with. He slipped the blindfold over my head, and everything went dark. He kissed me again, and as we were kissing I could feel his hands at the waist of my skirt, searching for the button and the zip, undoing them and letting my skirt slide to the floor. Then my panties. I was naked, but for the blouse – which was open and certainly wasn’t hiding much!

He unhooked my wrists from the door and used the loose end of the rope to lead me over towards the bed. He turned me round, and sat me down. “Lie down,” he ordered, as he gently pushed my shoulders back. I was lying back on the bed, with my legs over the edge. I felt very exposed and vulnerable, but so turned on by the anticipation of his cock sliding slowly into me.

There was silence, except for the fire crackling. What could he be doing? Was he just staring silently at my naked body? That thought aroused me still more. Maybe he was stripping off himself and the next thing I’d feel was his naked body lowered onto mine, his erect cock pushing its way between my legs. I shuddered. I was really, really ready for that. I wondered fleetingly what his cock looked like. I hadn’t seen it, just felt it though his pants, pressing against my body though his and my clothing.

Then, suddenly, it was as if an electric shock had struck my left nipple and, immediately after, my right. It was freezing cold liquid dripping on my breasts and chest and running down into my belly button. “Ahhhh!” I cried out. “What’s that?”

“Champagne,” he replied. "Cheers!"

My nipples went rock hard from the shock and the cold, but they were immediately enveloped, one after the other, by his hot, moist mouth and tongue, as he licked the champagne off my front; starting at the nipples and working down to my belly, to my hips, to my pubes.

I had meant to keep my legs tightly together, as my only remaining form of modesty, but I found them involuntarily parting slightly as his tongue and mouth came nearer to my vulva. “Keep going, keep going” was what my subconscious was saying. But he stopped after that tantalising introduction.

The next sensation was what I guessed to be a silk rope slithering over my body. The tasselled end was teasing my nipples, dragging over my face and neck, trailing down my torso, and tickling between my legs. When it got to my feet, it stopped. I could feel several loops going loosely round my ankles and then tightening up as he tied it in the middle.

“Wriggle back on to the bed,” he commanded. When I did, he stretched my tethered hands above my head again and tied them to the bed head, and pulled my legs around onto the bed.

“Now,” he said. “I have a foot fetish, and you have very erotic feet. I’m going to satisfy my fetish. Are you ready?” He didn’t really expect an answer. He was going to do it, whatever it was, whether I was ready or not.

Then I felt his moist lips around my big toe and his tongue between my toes and under my feet. Licking, tickling, licking. It was an amazing sensation. He worked round to the ankle and the sensitive sides of my feet. I could feel a tingling sensation in my clitoris. Was it the power of suggestion, from his dinner-table talk, or is this the basis of foot reflexology? If every organ in the body has a location on the foot, I can now map my clitoris – it’s on the side of my ankle.

I held my breath as he started working up my calves and then thighs with his tongue. Right up to the tops of my thighs, to that sensitive crease where my legs meet my pubes. I wanted to open my legs to let him go down further, but they were tied together. I did not really feel stimulated by being completely tethered like this. Maybe my level of excitement was already too great to get and further stimulation from the sensation of being restrained. I wanted more freedom. I wanted to open my legs wide. I wanted to wrap them round his head and squeeze him into my sex. I wanted his cock to plunge into me.

Perhaps he sensed something, because I felt the rope loosening on my ankles, as he pulled at a bow to release my legs. His fingers trailed up from my ankles to my vulva, outlining it and ever-so-gently moving over the surface, over my crack. I groaned and squirmed. Then he was kneeling down between my legs and his hot breath hit the inside of my thigh. And then his tongue.

“Ohhhh,” he groaned. “You cannot possibly imagine what a erotic experience this is for me. What I can see. Your swollen lips, your erect clitoris pushing out between your lips. The darkening of your lips. And your smell, and the taste of you. Incredible! I am so erect, so hard.”

Immediately his tongue was back again, his head pressing against my inner thighs and his hands under my buttocks. He was just holding a firm position, allowing me to push against him, to get the level of stimulation I wanted and in just the right position. And I did. It was automatic. I pushed my bum down onto his hands so as to position his flickering tongue on one sweet point on the shaft of my clitoris after another, and then pushed my hips up hard to press my sex against his lips, his tongue, his nose. And then I started rocking; a sort of pelvic tilt, up and down, up and down against his mouth and nose. Rhythmically; repeatedly.

I could feel my nipples tightening and hardening. My clitoris was tingling at the same time. Swelling even more, popping out of its protective hood. I could feel it; and the spread of warmth and wetness into my labia and vagina. It was as if that whole part of my body was swelling and would burst. I could sense my heart beating faster and faster. I kept the rocking motion of my pelvis going as the muscles in my calves and thighs tensed up, an my stomach muscles and buttocks, and my hands clenched into fists. I held my breath and squeezed down on the pelvic floor, directing every bit of my energy into my building orgasm.

My face was starting to flush and my neck muscles straining. The warmth of the flush was spreading to my neck and chest. A couple of twitches deep inside me and then a fast, rhythmic contraction in my vagina stimulated a fantastic rush of released tension. Indescribable, actually.

I could feel his tongue still there and heard him groan with ecstasy at his experience. How intimate can a man get with a woman’s orgasm! I was sweating and still panting, amazed at the intensity and how long my intense contractions had gone on.

He removed my blindfold. I blinked with the brightness of the firelight. He was definitely naked and definitely very, very aroused. His erection was straining, almost purple at the end, with spider-web-like trails of sticky pre-cum draping down onto the bed.

My hands were still tied above my head. He hitched up my body so he was sitting astride me, cock between my breasts and pointing at my face. He squeezed some lube into his hand and slowly and deliberately smeared it over his cock. He was looking at me in a sort of defiant way, but his eyes weren’t really focused and he was obviously deeply experiencing every movement of his hand.

“He’s going to make me watch him ejaculate,” I thought. That would have been a very erotic prospect, but not now. That would be better when I was just starting to be aroused, as a turn-on for me. I didn’t need a turn-on at all, right now!

I had another thought. Perhaps this move was for his excitement. Surely he’s being getting an extra kick out of masturbating right in front of me. Forcing me to watch. But this was not the time or place for deep analysis of motives, so I followed my own desire.

“Stop! Don’t come yet.” I ordered. “Untie me.”


Now Who’s the Fly?

He did as I asked, crawling even further up my body to reach the bed-head. The long threads of honey now dripped from the tip of his cock over my breasts, face and hair. I put my tongue out and licked. Warm, slippery, sweetish, and salty – all at once. Another aphrodisiac.I flexed my tired arms. I'd thought of a plan.

“You’re not going to make me watch you ejaculate,” I said. “No - you are going to watch as I make you come. No blindfold for you!”

“I’m so stimulated,” he said, pleading. “Honest! I’m ready. Make me come now.”

“You may be ready… but I’m not!” I snapped.

I ordered him to sit at the end of the bed with his back propped up against the bedpost. Now it was my turn with the ropes. I tied his hands behind his back and to the post. In this position, he could look down on his erection, but he couldn’t touch it. It was so erect that it was nearly touching his stomach as he sat there.

I just had him tied tightly when I thought I heard a noise that seemed to come from just outside the bedroom. I stopped, listening: “What was that?” I whispered. “That’d be right,” I thought to myself. “Housekeeping comes just when I’ve got him where I want him, and he’s got an enormous erection!”

“What was what?” he responded, a note of concern in his voice. A hint of panic, perhaps.

“Oh, I think it is just Housekeeping come to check on the bar fridge and see that we have everything we want,” I said. “I’m just going to let them in.”

“WHAT? No!”

I seriously contemplated continuing the pretence by walking over to the half-open door to the sitting room and having a conversation with a mythical person, asking them to come on in, just to see what that might do to his erection!

Instead I took pity on him and said: “Oh, relax. It’s OK. It’s just logs settling in the fire.”

I got down from the bed and went over to my bag. I found my little pocket vibrator and turned it on. I positioned myself on the bed in front of him, one pillow under my bum and my head on the other. I stared deeply into his eyes. He held my gaze for a long time, but it was drawn away as I slowly parted my legs to expose my already engorged lips and swollen clitoris. It was turning me on again, exposing myself to him like this. I slid the vibrator along the side of my erection… boy, was I still sensitive. Maybe too sensitive to be able to come again.

Knowing that I was being watched was helping though, especially as he couldn’t move to touch me, or even himself. His eyes were glued to my sex as I started to pleasure myself with the vibrator. His cock swelled even more and the head turned an even deeper shade of purple. It was bright and shiny with lube, and it was straining; tumescent.

I wanted to give myself another orgasm, so I closed my eyes and started verbalising the responses I was feeling as the tension started to grow again in me: “I can feel swelling; I’m twitching inside; my face is flushing; my thighs are tensing; it’s building up; more; more…”

My eyes flicked open again to glance at him. His eyelids were drooping over his eyes, which were still glued to the movements of my hips, my hand and the vibrator. He was breathing heavily, and started groaning a little when my descriptions were interrupted by my own brief holdings of breath, moans and panting.

Then he started tensing up, and a red flush spread from his face to his neck and chest. His nipples were really standing up, rock hard. His engorged, purple-tipped cock twitched a bit and I could see his balls contracting and his scrotum clenching and folding together, and pulling up. It was the most exciting sexual thing I think I’ve ever seen, and it brought me over the edge of my own orgasm. I continued my commentary: “I’m twitching inside; I can feel pumping; it’s a rush; I’m coming... I’m coming... oh God, I'm coming!”

Seemingly in response, his cock suddenly started twitching back and forward rhythmically. It appeared to be controlled by some force deep within him, and spurts of cum jumped from the tip onto his belly for five or six contractions. He released his breath and cried out in time with the spurts. I watched intently as the twitching become more sporadic and slighter, and the extreme tumescence of his cock started to abate. Dribbles of spunk still came out with each after-shock contraction, dribbling slowly down his cock and into his pubes.

He looked at me with a wondrous, puzzled expression, his pupils dilated. “What just happened to me?” he asked.

“You came – with just your brain! You could see and hear, and probably smell what was happening with my build-up and responses. This went straight to your brain, which activated your nipples and cock just as if they were being physically stimulated. You have proved your own theory!"

"We have just shared an orgasm. My physical stimulation caused both of our orgasms. That’s complete intimacy. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!”


To be continued...