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Interracial Erotica - http://www.interracialerotica.net/erotica
Toyed With
http://www.interracialerotica.net/erotica/articles/324/1/Toyed-With/Page1.html
By BJ Thornton
Published on March 31, 2011
 
Though he calls her a cougar, a younger man finds that he is an overeager cub, after his older lover takes command of their kinky first night together in Cairo.

Toyed With

















Sitting in the stodgy bar of the Four Seasons Nile Plaza, Abe began to feel as insignificant as he looked in a cheap pair of khaki pants and a blue polo. Middle class casual fare was appropriate to his mission, but having shaved, he looked even more like a youngster than usual, despite his twenty nine years. The Four Seasons bar was full of rich tourists and even richer locals who were indulging in a martini lunch with their foreign friends. He overheard an Arabic play on words that made a patronizing joke of something crass that the foreigners said. Abe might have laughed, had he not felt sure that Dr. Sharpe was playing a similar joke on him.

She kept him waiting half an hour, then Samira walked in wearing a sleek white dress that nipped and tucked every curve that her bus outfit had hidden. The silk dress had a sweeping skirt and a brooch closure like something from Grace Kelly’s closet. Samira held her shorn head high and wore that dress like God himself had poured it on her.

Several heads turned to see if her breasts, though just small lumps of coal, would fall out of the dress’ v-neck. Anyway, Abe jealously imagined that to be what the other men were thinking, while he slumped in his cheap clothes and fought off a scowl.

Samira smiled at him. “Hello there.” She laughed at the obvious effort that he made to straighten his jealous expression. With his hair cut up to his neck and off of his face, she noticed that he had a cleft chin and gorgeous long lashes. His wavy hair was tamed into a neat, matinee idol pompadour. She appreciated his effort to look good for her, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “You look cute.”

Abe brushed his lips against her plum cheek, and felt her merlot lipstick staining his. His eyes ogled every step that she took to a high legged chair at his small table. “Sorry, I should have gotten your chair,” he realized too late. Abe tore his eyes from her decolletage, and shook his head at himself. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Maybe later, with dinner.”

He frowned. “I have to meet my cousin in half an hour. You’re late.”

Samira arched a brow. “Is that so?”

“Didn’t you get my message? I said that I’d be here at four.”

Though she was flattered that he’d waited, Samira pointed out, “Did I leave a message saying that I would be here at four?”

“No, you didn’t.” He flushed and sat up straighter in his chair, studying her like a chess board. “You were busy today?”

“A little, but I rearranged a few things so that I could spend my evening with you.”

Frustrated, Abe swallowed the last of his cognac. “I’m sorry that I made other plans, but can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“I didn’t think you’d show. I asked you to come out every day this week, but you never said yes.”

“To ‘hanging out’ with a bunch of your twenty something cousins? While you hover protectively over me like you did on the train from Khartoum?” Samira scoffed. “No, thank you.”

He couldn’t look Dr. Sharpe in the eye when she laughed at him. Though calling her a cougar on their trip to Cairo had made him feel like a prize, being an inexperienced cub didn’t feel so sexy. “I thought you wanted me to show you around.”

”I didn’t ask you for a tour; I asked if you knew your way around.” She crossed her legs coquettishly.

Hot under the collar, Abe reached for his empty drink to wet his throat, then signaled for another. “I’m sorry.”

“You seemed to grasp my intentions on the bus, but apparently not how to execute them.” Samira shrugged her smooth round shoulders. “A young man’s mistake.”

“Looks like I could do with some schooling.”

“If only you had the time.” She glanced at her wristwatch and pursed her lips.

Abe blew out a breath. “My cousin’s on the way and I can’t call him. No cell phone. Can I come back in an hour and a half?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“May I, Dr. Sharpe?”

She reached across the table for his glass, and when she withdrew her hand, a plastic card key lay on the table.

Abe pocketed it as smoothly as she’d delivered it.

Samira sucked a piece of ice into her mouth, and toyed with it just as she as toying with him. Smiling, she stared at him until she could see in his eyes that he understood just who was seducing whom. “It might do for you to dress a little less conspicuously when you come back,” she said of his juvenile attire. “Grown men go unquestioned up and down the elevator. If you can’t pass for one, just tell them that you’re delivering some paperwork from the WHO office to my room.”

He scrubbed a hand over his chin and laughed, at himself because she was no joke. He measured her with a stare that she returned with interest, and the intelligence in her eyes made his dick hard. “May I have two hours then?”

“If you need them. With the shave and the haircut, you already look a little like Gene Kelly.”

Abe scoffed.

“I said a little.” The bartender came over, and Samira said, “A glass of Aida please, and a menu. He was just leaving.” She arched a brow to indicate that even though he was a rookie, he’d better return with his A game or not at all.

Abe stood up, took her hand, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Message received. Enjoy your dinner.”

“I will. I’m starving.” Samira felt the delicious rasp of his five o’clock shadow when he smiled against her cheek.


*****


Though Dr. Sharpe had given him two hours, Abe anxiously returned to the Four Seasons twenty minutes early, and hurried up the front steps. A checked vest dressed up his plain white shirt and simple slacks, so that the hotel staff didn’t pay attention to his passing as they had before. He looked more like a rich man’s lazy son than a student on a hostel vacation. Abe had played both in his time since he was a professional liar, for the US government on that occasion. Crossing Dr. Sharpe’s path had been the icing on the cake of a successful mission in Darfur.

“Samira.” Abe breathed her name, but it didn’t pack the same punch that Dr. Sharpe did in his fantasies. The elevator opened, and he walked in with a nervous smile at the prospect of calling such a powerful woman by her first name. Nervous anticipation was not a pleasure that came into Abe’s life very often, and he savored it all the way to her door. He forgot the key card in his pocket and knocked.

Frowning, Samira quickly rose from bed to let him in. She’d lived too long in places where it didn’t pay to draw attention to one’s liasons. She opened the door and ushered him in with a hasty,”Abe.”

“Dr. Sharpe.”

She laughed as she locked the door. “At this point, there is no need for formalities.”

“And I was so looking forward to earning the use of your first name.” He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her wearing a pale blue slip and leaning on the hotel door. Against the white wood, Dr. Sharpe was stunningly dark. Her skin didn’t shine in the pale yellow light from a nearby lamp. She was plush velvet, so much so that he tired of looking and wanted to touch.

Samira raised a brow as soon as he took a step. “I thought you wanted to earn your way.”

“Will it be a Herculean feat?”

“You don’t look like you could endure that much.”

He laughed, thinking of the bullet scars in his back. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Just a few feet apart, electricity charged the space between them. Samira grinned at his love of staring matches. He obviously expected her to crack beneath the hot glow of his ocher eyes, and for a moment, she thought of letting herself go to that kind of romance. Though young, he had the self-possession of a seasoned man, and a body that no doubt would take her thoroughly.

On second thought, that body would look amazing beneath her.

Anticipation bubbled in their eye contact, but neither made a move.

Eventually, Abe gave in to the urge to look down at her nipples. Under her slip, they stood up like pearls. His hands itched to pinch them.

“They’re pierced,” Samira teased. “Show me and I’ll show you.”

Abe quickly unbuttoned his vest and stripped off his shirt and undershirt.

She took a moment to enjoy his lithe swimmer’s figure, then Samira shook her head and glanced at his pants.

Abe removed his shoes, belt, and pants so fast that he didn’t consider what to do after he was standing naked before her scrutiny.

She prompted him with a rotating finger to show her the goods.

He put up his hands and did a slow turn. Simmering nervous delight turned into a crooked smile.

When he faced her again, Samira beckoned him with one finger, then pointed to the ground. “On your knees, please.”

Abe’s dick twitched. He got on the floor on all fours, crawled to her, and sat back on his haunches. From below, she looked ethereal while she hiked up her hem. He was riveted by her pale blue slip rising like a stage curtain. Underneath, she wasn’t wearing any panties, and the ripe scent of wet pussy ricocheted through his nose and throat with each breath. Abe wanted to taste, but he didn’t; steeping in his longing was a delicious little torture that he savored.

She asked, “What are you thinking?”

“About this one time at band camp—” When she laughed, a thrill burst inside him to have given her that pleasure. “I think I’m under your spell, Dr. Sharpe. Where do you want me to start earning that first name?”

“I like a man who can work his way up from the bottom.” Samira put her foot on his chest, and he held it there. His mouth made a wet trail up the inside of her leg. She loved the little rasp of his five o’clock shadow on her knee, and the ticklish pucker of his lips on her thigh. When he made it to her mound, she grabbed his hair and yanked his eyes up. “Stick your nose in it.”

Abe rubbed the tip and bridge of his nose against her clit. Soon his forehead pressed to her pelvis, so eager was he to please her. Spit coated his hungry tongue, which soon hung out like a dog’s since he felt like one. Over eager, he licked her.

Samira smacked the back of his head, then pushed him away. “Did I say that you could?”

Abe tried to look apologetic, but he wasn’t. Her foot on his chest pushed him to the floor, and he fell on his back, half laughing and half catching his breath.

She pulled off her nightgown, threw it in his face, and watched him sniff her clothes. Samira stepped on him, and his stomach tensed into a plank. “You’re in good shape.”

He flashed a winning smile. “You have no idea how much I can endure.”

“Really?” She put her foot on his throat, and a fire ignited behind Abe’s eyes. Samira stepped on his chest and over his head. “Stay.” She retrieved his belt, then returned and looped it around his neck. With a good yank, she urged him to a sitting position.

Eyes on his, she widened her stance and fingered herself. “Look at me, and don’t speak until you’re spoken to.”

Abe tried, but the gushy sticky sound of her playing with herself was too enticing. His gaze dropped from her face to her crotch.

Samira pulled out her fingers and slapped him. She rubbed her stickiness all over his nose. “Look at me, or you won’t get a taste.” Her manicured fingertips crowded his nostrils. “Just the smell, all night, of what you want and can’t have, unless I say that you can. Understand?”

The prospect of denial shot tension through him. “Yes, Dr. Sharpe.”

Samira resumed touching herself, as she’d been doing before he arrived. Her thighs soon grew wet, and she kept stirring up her juice until it dripped down her thigh in a mix with sweat. “I’m so close. I could use a stiff one right now.”

Abe whined like a puppy. His cock was throbbing.

“Would you like to clean up my thighs?”

“Please.”

She invited him with a nod, and gloried in the hungry scrub of his grainy tongue on her skin. “Only up to the hairs,” she instructed him. “Your nose should just brush me. Lick out the seams, and get a good whiff, pet.”

Abe drew in a big delirious breath that went straight to his head. He reeled a little.

She turned and presented him with her ass.

He understood then how desire really worked. Longing drove his tongue lovingly into her, like he used to kiss his girlfriends when he came home on leave from the military. He wasn’t pleasuring a hole but her, satisfying a need of hers, enjoying the taste and feel of her. Abe felt her legs shake when she came. He trembled similarly, after he sat back on his haunches and waited for her next instructions.

Contented, Samira patted his head. She pulled him by his leash to the bed, where she sat down, flopped on her back, and spread her legs. “Clean me up, please. Do it thoroughly, and I’ll let you make a mess of me next.”

Abe applied himself to lapping up every bit of custard from between her thighs. The taste reminded him of Persian desserts that his mother used to leave on the table for company, and that he’d been forbidden to touch. He tasted tart tamarind, juicy blood oranges, and rose water nougat with pistachios. Her cleaned pussy was a pitless plum that Abe tried to climb inside, like that boy who lived in a giant peach.

Samira pulled his makeshift leash. “Come up here.” She scooted back on the bed, and he climbed over her. She kissed his lips and smiled. “Wonderful. That was exactly what I wanted.” Samira removed the belt from around his neck, and stroked her fingers across the red marks on his throat.

His eyes drifted shut, while her soothing touch massaged his neck. Contentment flooded Abe, when she drew him down to her breast and rubbed the back of his head. He doubted that heroin was more potent than her approval.

Toying with his silky hair, Samira asked, “What would you like, pet? I’m open to suggestions.”

Abe laughed. “I don’t know anymore. I came in expecting something like this, but I underestimated how I would feel about it. I’m a little bit overwhelmed right now.”

“Don’t over think it. Be a boy toy. Enjoy it.” She smiled when he chuckled. “If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind test driving that pretty dick of yours.”

He grinned. “Let me oil up the engine.” Abe kissed a path back down to her pussy to make that mess that she’d mentioned.





© 2011