Submitted by Nicolae Parx
"Come to me," Roxana spoke clearly but softly.
Nicolae looked up from the carpet and caught her steely glare with his surprisingly clear eyes. Even though his body rebelled at the idea of moving from the comfort he had found, his mind propelled him toward the voice that beckoned him. Slowly, he rose to his knees and almost without comprehending his movements, crawled the few feet toward her chair.
She took his face in her hands and drew it toward her own.
"You are a sweet boy," she began, "and I will answer all of your lunchtime questions now." She stared into his eyes and held them so strongly that Nicolae felt unable to avert her gaze.
"You asked if you were 'just crazy,' and the answer is no, my sweet boy." Roxana allowed his smile to cover his face and realized that she was smiling, too. "But you are crazed."
His smile faded and his eyes welled with the threat of tears.
"Passion, my sweet boy, that's what crazes you." Roxana allowed her words to soothe his soul before continuing. "You overflow with passion. It can't seem to find a way out, until now. It's the dance, your dance." Nicolae seemed unable to comprehend, but allowed his face to be drawn closer to her own and seek comfort from the comforting power in which she enveloped him.
"You are unique," she continued after a few intense moments of silence. "You pretend you control your passion, but it controls you."
Nicolae nodded after her words melted into his brain.
"Let me take your passion," she insisted but with a slight question, "let me tear it from your soul and own it for a while. Let me take the burden of controlling it off your shoulders for just a few minutes. Feel what it is like not to have to wrap your 'self' in such tight control." Roxana paused while tears fell from his eyes into her hands that still held his face inches from her own.
Bending her face toward his, she kissed his tears.
Wrapping her arms around him, she drew him into the chair with her and pressed his face to her neck. The two sat there for time that had no measure as he breathed warmly against her skin. Roxana inhaled his hair and drank in his contentment while she allowed her tongue to dance against his balmy cheeks, eyes, lips and chin. Nicolae's soft moan told her it was time.
Taking his wrist in her hand, she moved his fingers toward her throat.
"Touch me," she instructed, "allow your hand to be guided."
Slowly, she drew his hand toward her skin and encouraged him to feel her chest, face, and neck and then moved cautiously toward her breasts. His tiny gasps spurred her onward and she moved under her blouse, allowing him to discover the soft leather that touched her skin. His fingers lay still, afraid to explore on their own. With care coupled with intent, she drew his fingers under the bustier and insisted they touch her breasts.
Nicolae gasped softly against her neck.
His hand refused to move without her guidance and she smiled as she pressed his fingers into her with slightly more force. At last, his hands found their own life and she kissed his tightly closed eyes gently. He explored as she gripped his wrist and led him onward. Nicolae's rhythmic breathing warmed her neck.
Slowly, she manipulated his hand and wrapped it around her own wrist.
"If my hand touches you where you are uncomfortable," she warned him soothingly, "just pull my hand away. Do you understand?"
If his face hadn't been pressed so closely against her neck, she would never had felt his nod.
Nicolae's face, wet with perspiration and tears, was her first goal. Her fingers explored his forehead, eyes, cheeks, nose and lips, but she lingered on his square jaw. Satisfied, she drew her fingers toward his neck and petted him, before running her nails under the open collar of his shirt. Agonizingly slowly, Roxana's fingers reached for the buttons and she was gratified he offered no resistance. In fact, she believed she felt an almost indiscernible shift, as he pressed closer to her fingers.
One button, then another. His shirt, drenched with sweat still warm to her touch, was open to her exploration. Her fingers danced against his upper chest and she traced the striations of his muscles with her nails.
As her fingers delved downward, he pressed against her hand. His chest was strong and rose and fell with his now calm breathing. His skin was clear and smooth. Lost in thought, she explored him, like an owner inspecting her beloved new addition. As her hand dove deeper into his shirt, her fingers pressed against his heart. Then her fingers walked a few inches down, and he surprised her with a guttural groan that exploded against her neck.
Roxana waited for his hand, still wrapped tightly around her wrist, to pull her hand from its exploration. Nicolae offered no resistance or did he attempt to stop her. Instead, she felt him wrestle with himself inside the comfort of her arms. As she rested her hand on the spot that caused his instinctive outburst, Nicolae struggled to find his voice.
Finally, the words came.
"No, no, it's OK," he fought to speak clearly with his lips pressed against her neck, "it's just that … that spot … that's where …" His voice trailed off and Roxana waited until he could continue. She knew he would continue.
"I can't explain it," he mumbled and stopped.
"I can," Roxana finished the thought for him. His head never moved from her neck and his lips never left her skin.
"That's your passion," she said succinctly, "your energy lives there." She felt his nod against her neck.
"Let me touch it," she spoke plainly. It was not a question. Nicolae's face never moved from her neck except to deliver another tiny nod against her skin.
With excruciating effort, she sat him upright and kissed his closed eyes. Then quietly and quickly, she pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it behind her onto the thick taupe carpet. His naked chest gleamed in the sunlight and filled her eyes with a sense of stunning beauty and great pain.
The wide chair afforded her the access she wanted to Nicolae's chest while he reclined gracefully against the fabric. His arms were at his sides and his legs were unconsciously spread apart. With his head tilted back against the chair, he was both physically comfortable and completely exposed to her journeying.
"Close your eyes, sweet boy," she suggested and Nicolae complied with eagerness. His eyelids dropped and she was pleased he hadn't forced them shut. His graceful movements reinforced his comfort with her and with what she was about to do. Only his rapid breathing and heaving chest confirmed his trepidation.
Her hands danced as artfully on his skin as he had done on the carpet. Tracing his muscles, circling his nipples, drawing invisible lines with her nails down the length of his abdomen, Roxana greeted his skin with constrained excitement. Her fingers gripped his nipples and twisted them gently, an action that evoked a small moan from between his lips. As she grasped them tighter, his moans increased and his body fell deeper into the chair.
Her exploration had a goal.
By now, Nicolae had been lifted into a place where his existence was defined by her gentle touch and intermittent firmer clutches. His body was reactive and as Roxana pulled his nipple, his back arched toward her, as if to comply with her unspoken wishes. As she loosened her grip, his body knew that it was time to relax into the chair. There silent communication deepened as Roxana took ownership of his chest, save for one particular area.
Staring at his closed eyes and peaceful countenance, she positioned her fingers a few inches above his waist, just below his heart and rib cage. With her free hand, she rested her forearm against his square chin. Then, without warning, she pressed her fingers into him with controlled strength, certainly not nearly enough to cause pain.
She had something else on her mind.
Nicolae's back arched almost violently toward her and her arms, placed strategically across his chin prevented his head from jerking forward suddenly and possibly injuring his neck. His eyes shot open and his mouth fell.
"What?" was all he could manage and his uncomprehending eyes drank in her reassuring smile.
"Energy," she began. "Passion. It lives … here," she concluded as she pressed her fingers into the same spot and felt him tremble. His brain couldn't comprehend her words, but his body, which he always trusted, knew she was right. The idea of an emotion living in a certain spot seemed, well, foreign to him, but Nicolae felt the explosion twice and had to succumb to that reality.
"Would you like me to take you somewhere new?" she asked his perplexed face.
The energy she had touched so overwhelmed him that all Nicolae could think about was the need to touch it again. If she could bring him that amazing experience, then there was really only one response to her question.
Unhesitatingly, he replied with the most plaintive, honest and passionate syllable she could hope to hear. "Please," he uttered and the sound echoed inside her head.
With that single word uttered in the depth of his passion, Roxana was undone.
Pas de deux
With a simple, "Stand up for me," she instructed and Nicolae struggled to remove himself from the comfort of the chair. As he stood in front of her, he realized that his slacks were the only barrier between his abject nakedness and the woman who could help him answer his most profound and introspective questions.
Roxana stood within inches of his perspiring skin and let her own jacket fall to the floor. Face to face with her leather bustier against his naked chest, Nicolae struggled to breathe steadily and not allow the enveloping headiness to overcome him. Between them was air and intensity.
Reaching for his belt, she opened it and in a single motion, drew his pants and underwear to his ankles. Responding to yet another of her unspoken commands, he stepped out of them and the pair moved together to the center of the room. Her face never moved more than two inches away from his own and her lips spoke directly into his ears.
"Stand tall for me, sweet boy," she whispered and he drew himself erect as if to please her with his posture. "Feel my fingers," she hissed and touched his chest with both hands, counting on his obediently insuring that his ear stayed within range of her mouth. "Relax your arms, let them hang at your sides," she instructed into his brain and Nicolae felt his hands mentally detach themselves from his wrists.
He felt nothing. He felt everything as long as he could hear her voice.
Roxana's words were pointed. "Step your legs apart," she pronounced directly into his ear. Unconsciously, he slid them apart, as if offering his vulnerability to her as a gift that she would cherish. "Close your eyes, sweet boy," she demanded.
"Don't move at all," she finished and withdrew her mouth from his burning ear. Had she provided yet another instruction, Nicolae felt he would have burst with the energy he was drawing from within himself to comply. Naked and glistening in the fading sunlight, Nicolae felt absolutely alone yet her presence invaded all but one of his senses.
When her hands drew down his chest toward his waist, he almost shrieked from sensory overload. Her touch electrified him and his back unconsciously thrust forward toward her. Roxana drew herself away a few inches, as if challenging his back to arch even more. Requiring her touch, totally immersed in needing her voice, fully involved in insistence of her closeness, Nicolae's muscles screamed at the effort he exerted to reach her yet he could not and would not allow his feet to leave the place she positioned him. 'Don't move at all' rang in his ears.
Circling him, she pressed her presence against him without touching his skin. His head darted as if to find her with his sense of hearing because she had stripped him of sight and touch. The fragrance she wore had already permeated the room and his sense of smell was equally useless. Listening with the intensity of decades of wanting and needing, Nicolae felt confusion flow from his shoulders. He had a goal: to find Roxana and give himself to her.
Soundlessly, she stepped around him and enjoyed the sporadic trembles his body experienced. Only after making a complete circle, Roxana allowed her eyes to view his hips and legs. The power in them astounded her.
Her lips rediscovered his ear.
"Stand straight and tall," she demanded and although overcome with the return of her voice, Nicolae snapped to attention. Her voice exploded in his head, his chest filled with that mixture of pain and pleasure he had suffered for so many years, and his hips began an uncontrollably subtle rocking that Roxana noticed with rising passion.
He would dance for her. He had to dance for her.
After pushing him to a new height by running her fingers the length of his calves and thighs, Roxana rested her palms so close to his erect cock that Nicolae could feel her touch, even though their skin had not yet met. His hips stirred and the tempo of her words intoxicated him with rhythm.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," she urged in his ear.
And then she touched his dripping cock with a warm grasp that forced an uncontrollable moan from deep inside him. Her touch was gentle but firm and her fingers were wet with him.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," she repeated in his burning ear.
Nicolae's senses could not take in another syllable of her yet she pressed more words into his ear while her hands encased his organ.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," she exhorted into his brain.
Roxana's hands held his cock in their gentle but insistent grip as Nicolae fought to obey her demand yet could not comprehend how he would do so as she held him tightly in that single spot. Tears fell from his eyes and coursed down his cheeks. Roxana leaned toward him and licked them away.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," she entreated yet again.
Her wet fingers took his shaft and slid up and down the stiff length as Nicolae's brain ignited inside his head. Mercilessly, she stroked him almost casually in stark contrast to the fire that burned inside him. His own desire betrayed him as his own juices provided the means for her torture.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," her voice took on a demanding tone.
Nicolae's expelled a deep groan that hurt his throat as his body answered. With his hips thrusting toward her and his back arching as if to deliver himself into her hands, she caressed his drenched cock with commanding hands yet never guided his body. The dance would come from him.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," she insisted.
And he did.
Nicolae felt the confusion slide off and be replaced with an odd sort of confidence that spurred his arms and legs to what was natural for them. Dancing silently and without taking a single step, he performed for her as she held him rooted to a single spot on the carpet. Only his moans and groans broke the silence that encircle them as the sun began to set over the ocean he could see from her back deck, if only he could open his eyes.
Roxana allowed him to dance for her and when she felt his breathing quicken, pulled him by his stiff organ to his knees. Flawlessly, gracefully, he followed her as the two of them knelt silently. Her fingers left his cock and before the sense of abandonment could fill him with dread, she pressed two drenched fingers between his lips.
"Dance for me, sweet boy," she said plainly.
Sucking her fingers with an unbelievable sense of amazement, Nicolae arched his back to her and offered his entire self to her as a gift. With the clearest understanding, he reached for her, knowing she would take him when she wanted. Undemanding yet insistent, Nicolae remained immobile, his entire body the submission she desired. His head was clear and focused and for the first time in hours, he could hear the gentle breeze float through the open doors behind him.
"I take what I want," she whispered and drew his face to hers.
Kissing his eyes, cheeks, lips and chin, she accepted his submission and returned to him the clear knowledge that she valued what he gave.
With suddenness that staggered him, Nicolae felt his entire body shudder and a wave of incomprehensible emotions churn from his legs into his chest. Shaking almost uncontrollably, he knelt and trembled from its power. Roxana drew her arms around him and pulled him to her.
Within the comfort of her arms, Nicolae shivered and shuddered in violent, but undeniably dry, spasms. Feeling only the security of her arms, he sobbed from exhilaration and exhaustion until he finally succumbed against her. Her warmth, her fragrance, her strong touch and her power were palpable to him but her voice was what he longed to hear.
Almost absentmindedly, she stroked his hair and whispered in his ear.
"You are my sweet boy," she murmured as she kissed away his tears. "And I'm only beginning with you."