textfiles/sex/EROTICA/A/alix.txt

                               ALIX

     Our tale begins with a woman, named Alix, disembarking from an 
 elevator on the 15th floor of an expensive downtown apartment complex.  She is 
 arriving home after a long day at her office, and she is burdened down with 
 a number of packages, including her briefcase and several bags of women's 
 clothing from a fashionable shop in the downtown district.  As she arrives 
 at her apartment and is fumbling around in a pocket for her keys, the 
 door begins to slowly open in front of her, and she enters calmly and 
 assuredly, for she knows who awaits her inside.  Tom is in the submissive 
 pose, kneeling on the carpet before her. He is wearing his Thursday 
 costume, a jet-black thong barely visible under an oversize white T-shirt 
 blazoned with the single word `BOY' in massive black letters.  His well-
 developed legs are folded underneath him, looking like the backs of two 
 parallel swimming dolphins.  The woman drops her packages and looks 
 impassively at her man, and leans against the door behind her and closes 
 it.

     He stretches forward, and carefully removes her shoes and begins 
 to massage her toes individually, working slowly along the soles of her 
 feet and ankles.  She rests against the door in a relaxed and calm posture, 
 next enjoying the sensation of a warm, wet tongue snaking in between her 
 toes and kissing and licking her aching feet.
 
     She knows that he would maintain this welcoming activity as 
 long as she wants, but she can smell the fragrance of a hot bubble-bath 
 waiting for her, and kicks past Tom, leaving him to tend to the packages 
 and the mail.  The bathroom is toasty and damp.  In the mirrored wall she 
 watches herself undress, dropping her wrinkled khaki pantsuit on the floor 
 and covering it with discarded panties and bra.  The bath is just as she 
 likes it, hot at first, and covered with a thick foam of her favorite 
 bubbles. She steps into it slowly, feeling the strong hand of her man 
 against her shoulder and back.  She settles down into the sudsy lake, and 
 closes her eyes in gentle satisfaction as she is massaged.

     Knowing that he must not speak unless first addressed, Tom is
 silent.  He is fairly young, good-looking and with a pleasant disposition.
 He has beautiful curly hair, which particularly attracted Alix when she 
 first met him.  His musculature is well developed and large, for he is in 
 the service of a demanding mate, and she expects him to spend at least two 
 hours every day working out in the private gym in their building.  She is 
 in love with his muscles, and they are his gift to her.  Using a soft 
 sponge, he gently strokes her thighs and knees, moving gradually down her 
 calves, and she accomodates his interest by raising her feet one at a time 
 above the water so that he can give them renewed attention.

     "What's for dinner tonight?", she asks.

     "Breast of chicken in a secret sauce.  Wild rice, a special salad,
 and a new chocolate dessert that I found in one of your old cookbooks," 
 Tom replies.  

     "Do you need to do anything more, or is it ready for me now?"

     "I just have to put the salad together.  The rest is ready for 
 you."

     "Good, my dear.  You leave me now, and fix the salad.", she said
 with a wink.

     He stands and turns from Alix, drying his arms on a handtowel.  
 She tickles his firm, round buns under the overhanging T-shirt, and 
 smiles to herself, thinking of the many times before, and the time later 
 this evening when they will be appreciated more fully.  When he is sure 
 that she has finished, he picks up her clothing, and leaves quietly.

     Dressed only in her white bathrobe, she enters the kitchen and 
 strolls up to Tom, wrapping him in her arms from behind. He is tossing
 a delightful mixture of greens and putting them into two glass bowls.  
 She can feel the tiny points of his erect nipples under his shirt, and 
 she closes her eyes and strokes his chest slowly with heavy pressure, 
 outlining the contours of his pectoral muscles.  As she massages his 
 stomach, she can feel a slight surge go through his body, which gradually 
 stiffens as she explores further below, finally cupping her hands over 
 the tightly restricted thong.  She enjoys the throbbing, quickening pulse, 
 the burgeoning pressure, the strained fabric.  His balls are hard for her 
 to massage, but she continues to squeeze and rub, and he starts to lose 
 his concentration and drops the salad spoon onto the table with a metallic 
 clang.  He knows he must maintain absolute composure, and not move unless 
 told to.  Even so, he can feel that he is losing control of his body.  His 
 hands feel weak, and shots of tingled nerves run through his palms.  His 
 breathing is strained and drawn, his heart is pounding, and his thoughts 
 are chaotic and unconnected.

     Wordlessly, she hooks her thumbs under the little string around 
 his waist, and pulls the thong gently, oh, so gently down, pulling it out 
 as she goes, stretching it out while his fattened cock springs outward and 
 upward.  Finally it is free, standing throbbingly erect, jutting up from 
 the shirt.  She lets the crumpled thong drop to his ankles, and wraps her 
 right hand around his cock with her thumb on the thick head and her fingers 
 encircling underneath.  Her left hand cups and gently massages his balls, 
 firm and round and quaking.  He is completely given over to her now, with 
 eyes closed and his voice uncontrollably uttering a faint `oh...' with 
 every breath.  She knows that she must masturbate him early this evening 
 if he is to be of any use to her later, after dinner, for the rule of the 
 house is that The Man Must Serve His Master Well.  

     "I think your salad needs a little dressing, my dear," she says, 
 dipping the head of his cock into one of the bowls.  She merely massages 
 with firm pressure running through her fingers, but it is enough.  Being 
 young, he responds quickly to her stimulation, a sudden, single throb 
 rising in his cock, the head expanding and hardening under her thumb.  He
 recoils first at the thought of what she was about to make him do, the
 wickedness of it!  His displeasure is transformed into a related delight at
 being a tool of his mate, Alix. His body begins to rock slightly back and 
 forth on the balls of his feet, and the two become locked together as one.  
 Finally, releasing a loud `Nyah...' he ejaculates onto his salad, a thick 
 river, like Devonshire cream pumping over the lettuce and radish and 
 cucumber.  Almost faint, his knees collapse slightly, and he rests on the table 
 for a moment as Alix quickly leaves behind him, taking her mail and papers 
 into the dining room.

 *   *    *    *     *    *    *    *    *    *

     The dinner was quite fine and satisfying to her, and Tom was not
 in need of any rapproachment on it.  Dressed in an evening costume of 
 white shirt and pants, he looked especially alluring to her as he walked 
 quickly back and forth carrying dishes away and bringing dessert and 
 liqueurs.  Alix had requested some light jazz music, and he stopped to 
 find something on the receiver to please her when she asked him to strip 
 for her.  
 
     Knowing that she preferred a darkened room for his `performances',
 he dimmed the lights for her a little, turned the volume down and pro-
 ceeded to swing slightly to the beat, casually unbuttoning his shirt and 
 letting it slide down his back until his arms were held by it.  Then he 
 slipped slowly and gently out of his pants, and letting them fall to the 
 floor, he stepped towards her.  She tugged at his shirt, and it too fell 
 away.  He stood before her, naked and cool.  She lay on the sofa in her 
 robe, sipping a liqueur, admiring his shadowed muscles.  

     His cock, bouncing lovingly before her, was large but not the 
 largest she had seen.  It lay in a nest of his pubic hair that had been 
 washed and dried and combed the way she liked.  His balls were not hanging, 
 but tightened and round and drawing up as she watched.  He seemed perfect 
 to her now.  She reflected that he had responded well to her training and 
 she seemed certain that he would remain with her for a long time.  Above 
 all, he was resourceful and imaginative, and required little guidance in 
 lovemaking, for he had learned quicker than the others, what she 
 preferred  and needed.  She thought idly for a moment about giving him to
 her friend Susan for an evening, or maybe even a whole day, as a birthday
 present.

     "Remind me to call Susan tomorrow," she said, holding her liqueur 
 glass with both hands in front of her, and looking into his eyes, filled 
 with an imploring stare.

     "Oh, all right, my dear, you can start now," she said finally.

     Tom fell to his knees and pulled open a small drawer under the sofa.
 It contained an assortment of skin creams and lotions, with some paddles and
 other strange instruments hidden inside.  He selected a small bottle that he
 knew Alix liked, and poured some of its cream onto his hand.  He warmed it 
 for a few minutes before applying it to her feet, and crouched down on his 
 knees beside her before beginning the massage.

     Alix pulled the drawstring of her robe and separated the halves. 
 Finding a large feather beside her, she lightly stroked her breasts with 
 it and settled back into the sofa, arching her back and finding a comfort-
 able position.  His breath fell warm and moist on her thighs.  His hands 
 were strong and slippery, and slid firmly up and down the length of her 
 legs. His movements were drawn from a memorized script which Alix had been 
 given him to learn several weeks ago.  He first had to treat her to a 
 complete body massage, from head to toe, front and back.  He must avoid 
 touching her pubic area unless specifically requested to do so, and then 
 only in the specific ways that she liked.  She always reserved the option 
 of trying something different with him if another friend had some suggestions,
 but she generally preferred the slow and gentle approach that Tom was 
 mastering.  They spoke very little to each other during lovemaking.  That 
 was the way Alix preferred it.

     He was moving up her abdomen now in long, slow strokes with heavy
 pressure.  From time to time, he renewed the coating of oil on his hands.
 For variation, he would run just the tips of his fingers lightly over her
 trembling, ticklish skin.  His strokes began to touch her breasts, and he
 took both of them in his cupped hands and massaged and squeezed them gently.
 Her favorite sensation was that of his palms rubbing very lightly against
 her hardening nipples in slow, wide circles.  The tickle seemed to trigger
 an internal spasm that connected her whole breasts with her abdomen, 
 shooting down into her crotch and then on downward past her knees, trickling 
 through her calves and ankles and tingling feet.  Her breathing became 
 shallow and emphatic, and she closed her eyes and reached for his soft 
 curls, plunging her fingers through them.

     She whispered only,"kiss-kiss."

     He slid down the length of her stomach, drawing a long wet lick from
 her breasts to the edge of her pubic hair.  He marvelled at the beauty 
 before him, the cleanness, the ample plump lips partially hidden under a 
 forest of magnificent curly hair, the subtle dampness that moistened the 
 opening, the intoxicating musk that he sucked eagerly through his nostrils.  
 She could feel his warm, panting breath blowing over her crotch, but it was 
 cooling to her, for she had become hot and filled with explosive energy.  
 She relaxed her grip on his head, and he began to carefully kiss her lips 
 gently, softly, slowly, like a cautious lover meeting his girl in a quiet, 
 secret hideaway.  Eyes closed, he continued for many minutes, running his 
 tongue slowly up and down her partially opened lips, marking her clitoris 
 with a special kiss.  She began to arch towards his face, and stretch her 
 legs.  Then she raised her knees.

     This was his signal to move between her legs, and he did so quickly
 and artfully.  He mounted the sofa and lay face down, cupping her buttocks
 in his hands and stroking her vagina with a vigorously energized tongue.  
 He moved about on the cushions slightly to find a comfortable position, for 
 he expected to be useful here for many hours.  Since he had already eaten 
 his first ejaculation, his cock would not be ready for another very soon, 
 but it would be hard for Alix and useful to her for later orgasms.
 He  shifted about, raising his hips to 
 give his cock some room.

     Wanting to control her first orgasm tonight, she strung her fingers
 in his hair and pressed his head downwards towards her.  She loved a heavy
 pressure against her vagina, especially long, hard strokes from Tom's tongue,
 and she knew from many sessions before with him just how hard she could 
 press him.  It took, in fact, all her strength to do it, and she was
 thankful that men had such strong necks and could be trained so willingly 
 in the arts of lovemaking.  She continued to press and pull him with her 
 right hand, using her left to firmly cup her breasts.  She licked her fingers 
 in greedy anticipation.

     Her vaginal lips had swollen, and a succulent oil, oozed from the 
 inside walls, only to be lapped up heartily by Tom's tongue buried deep
 within.  She stroked his head furiously now, and drew up her legs and 
 wrapped them about his neck, locking them behind.  She squeezed her legs 
 together, controlling his squishy strokes.  She had soaked his face and 
 his hair with her vaginal fluid, and he eagerly swallowed every drop that 
 he could reach.

     She found the pose that felt the best.  Her limp hands caged her
 erect, hardened nipples, and she stroked them absent-mindedly as the first
 wave began to surge.  She licked her lips.  Her breathing became desparate.
 She could see in her mind the convulsed muscles of her lover as he 
 worked below, and she could feel them under her calves, pressing against her
 bum, cupped in firm, massaging hands.  The wave rose, and kept rising, a
 familiar nervous tingle emanating from inside, filling her body everywhere 
 with energy and heat.  It burst upon her unexpectedly, and she moaned
 unstoppably.
 
 *   *    *    *     *    *    *    *    *    *
 
     Resting in the quiet, calmed afterglow, she poked around beside
 her in search of his cock.  Finding it, she pulled on it heartily, and 
 Tom shifted up on the sofa until his crotch was closer to her.  His cock
 was hard again, thick and long and delicious.  The bulbous head was silky
 smooth and yet soft, while the shaft seemed unbelievably hard, like the 
 stem of plant, or, as Alix remarked silently and wryly to herself, like
 a cucumber.  A hot cucumber.  She loved the smooth texture of the head,
 and massaged it with her palm, gripping the shaft with strong fingers.
 She could feel the engorged veins running haphazardly along its length. 
 Tom knew enough to leave her alone with her toy, and pulled his clasped
 hands up to his chest.  Using her other hand, she explored his pubic hair,
 twirling it around and around in her fingers, wondering about the taste.
 His balls seemed to be alive, swelling and expanding against her hand.
 She pulled hard on his cock, and he shifted again so that it was right
 up to her face now, throbbing and enlarged as it could be.  Her trembling
 tongue touched the little opening, from which a tiny drop suddenly appeared,
 and she eagerly licked it up.  She knew that she could keep him erect now
 for hours since he had already had a powerful orgasm and was almost spent, 
 but would come once more after a long period of her relentless 
 stimulation.  

     It made her thankful of her womanhood, and secretly she relished her 
 natural superiority, and smiled to herself as she contemplated the envy that 
 Tom must feel for her powers.  She had to admit that as well trained and 
 willing as Tom had been all these last months, she was beginning to find 
 limitations in him.  He tired quickly, for one thing.  He had to be 
 carefully controlled to either prevent his orgasms, or time them when 
 they  were best suited to her desires.  She enjoyed the feel of him coming inside 
 her; in fact it was quite thrilling to watch him gradually fall into her 
 controlling rhythms and come with a shudder.  He was a willing and very
 imaginative `bottom' partner, laying for her, - gorgeous, silky smooth, hot.
 Once he had come, however, he could be exhausted for a long time, and would 
 require plenty of sucking and stroking to get hard again.   He was quite 
 skilled with a dildo, but failed to match her own use of one, as would be 
 expected.  

     Her mind drifted, and she dreamed of having two young men to play 
 with at the same time.  Now, what would that be like?
 
                     **THE END**