Eleven by Karen Rodgers Page A

the music to set the right mood. It was time for me to touch
him.
    As the song began, I walked behind him
again. He could feel the cool metal studs of my bra against the
back of his neck as I leaned over and moved my satiny gloved hands
over his shoulders and down his chest.
    Then I moved around and straddled his
chair, placing a leg on each side of him; managing not to touch
him. Slowly, very slowly, I leaned toward his face. I pointed my
tongue and lightly traced it around the outside edge of his lips. A
deep groan escaped his mouth.
    I backed away, going down on my knees
between his legs. I ran a single gloved finger along the inside
edge of both his feet, then slid my hands up the legs of his pants,
caressing his calves and trailing my fingers along the side of his
shins. I pulled my hands from under his pants and ran them firmly
up the inside of his thighs.
    I instructed him to stand up. As he
did, I tugged on the waist of his pants with clenched teeth and
pulled them down to his knees using only my mouth. I looked up as
his massively engorged manhood that had sprung free from its
confinement.
    My tongue gradually snaked up the
inside of his thighs. When I reached his heavy balls, I lingered
for a moment with my mouth open allowing my hot breath to warm
them. I found a soft, sweet spot in the middle, underside of his
sack and began to lightly flick my tongue against it. This elicited
another groan.
    I smiled while dancing my tongue up the
midline to the base of his cock. Its heaviness was straining toward
me. My tongue flicked up the underside.
    I looked up into his eyes as I took him
into my mouth and began working my lips back and forth, sucking,
opening up my jaws to take him in deeper and deeper with each
stroke.
    We both began to groan with the rhythm
of my movements.
    I looked up again and saw he had
somehow managed to free himself from his restraint. Overcome with
lust, he looked down at me with a wicked gaze and ran his fingers
through my hair. He pulled my face away from him and lifted me up
and into his arms.
    “ Damn, girl! You’re the most
beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a low, deep tone as he
kicked off his pajama pants and swept my up in his arms.
    He carried me down the hallway then
stood me on my feet at the side of the bed. He began feverishly
kissing me while undoing the clasp on my bra. My breasts sprang
free. He reached up with one hand and traced the choker on my neck,
leaving it intact. His mouth hungrily moved from my neck down to my
breasts and belly. I ran my gloved fingers through his hair as he
devoured my body.
    He positioned me on the edge of the bed
and pulled my thong down and off over the boots. He looked down at
my body that was draped with my legs dangling over the side of the
bed. He coaxed my knees apart and kneeled in front of
me.
    The way he pleasured me with his tongue
was exquisite. He lightly teased me with intermittent licks and
light suction on my swollen, throbbing rosebud—building me up into
a frenzy. By the time he was done working his magic on me, I had
easily climaxed three times.
    He stood up and moved me to the center
of the bed. Tenderly removing the choker and long leather boots, he
climbed on top of me. Our bodies melded with entwined limbs as we
engaged in passionate, needy kisses. He placed the bend of his arms
against the bend behind my knees and pressed against me.
    With a gasp, a sigh, and a moan, he
entered me. We became one.
    It was more significant than love. It
was more tangible than lust. It was a searing, breathing, palpable
existence that only those who are lucky enough to experience can
fathom. It was recognizing your soul for the first time in the
reflection of your lover’s eyes. There are no words that can be
expressed. There is no troth or vow to be taken. It is pure
knowledge—knowing you are in the arms of the one for which you were
created. It can only happen once in a lifetime, if at
all.
    We said nothing to acknowledge what