He brought me to the left wing of the house. That room was also a fusion of different spaces. It was a bedroom slash office slash walk-in closet. It was modest compared to the other chamber. I'd even say stoic. The headboard of a two-person bed stood against the wall; the bedsheets were made as in a hotel. Against the opposite wall stood a massive desk with an ergonomic, black office chair, with two large screen monitors, a printer, and various other office supplies. In the back of the room was a built-in niche with three clothing rails in separate sections. One was for his shirts, the second for his trousers, and the third for his coats, and jackets. The wardrobe also had several shelves for shoes, scarfs, gloves and sunglasses, ties, belts, and even hats.
Smith laid me on his bed and turned his back to me to turn the heating on. I took advantage of the situation and dashed for the exit, but Smith intercepted me and locked the door with a key he then slid in his pocket.
"I'm sorry, Officer, I can't let you go. Why are you trying to run away from me? You know that it will happen," he pulled me in and played with my hair.
"Smith, you can't do this!" I repeated as I tried to release myself from his embrace.
"Please, call me Johnny. It sounds so sweet when you say that. Can I call you Alex? Alex is short for Alexandra, right?" he grabbed my wrists and motioned me to the bed. His hand reached for the sensitive spot in the back of my neck. I grasped his arm to stop him from rubbing that area, but he didn't let go.
My body relaxed as he massaged my neck. I couldn't keep my eyelids open and at a certain point I felt my legs go weak. I lurched backwards and Smith instantly caught me and laid me down on the bed.
"Smith, no!" I mumbled pleadingly.
"It's alright," he caught my moans with his mouth. I couldn't fight him, but I also didn't want to lose control.
"Johnny," I interrupted his kisses by holding his face between my hands, "I'll make love to you, but you must listen to me. I haven't done these things for some years now, so I want this to be nice for me, too," I saw his expression change as soon as I started talking to him.
"Of course! I'll do everything you ask, baby! Tell me what you like," he helped me to sit up and delicately unbuttoned my coat, "what do you want me to do?"
"Just don't rush things. You make me nervous when you press your whole weight on me. Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you. No name calling or slapping, I don't like that," I frowned.
"Me neither. I'm gentle, I swear. We can achieve so much more with tenderness," he undid me of my vest and was about to pull off my T-shirt, but I stopped him.
"Aren't you going to take your clothes off?" I asked. Smith's face brightened as he untucked his shirt from his pants and in one movement opened his shirt that had snap fasteners for buttons.
We both took our shoes off and mounted on the bed, moving cautiously, constantly keeping eye contact, like animals, afraid to scare each other off. I reached my hands out to him to touch his torso as we sat on our knees, facing one another. Smith had a good, slender body. He slightly shivered as my fingertips slid over his hairy chest. My palms moved up to his neck. Smith smiled as I tried to grasp my small hands around it. I proceeded to his broad shoulders and followed the curve to his arms. I felt him flexing his muscles under my touch. He had beautiful arms. I always wanted a guy with arms like his. The long limbs were veined with obscenely thick, light-blue cords. I followed the line of one of those pretty threads down to his wrist, delicately pressing the nail of my index finger against it. I stroked his fingers, slightly pulling on them, one by one, admiring the elegance of Smith's hands.
"Do you like my arms, Mummy?"
"Why are you calling me Mummy?" I giggled.
"I don't know. It turns me on. It feels right and comforting. Please, can I call you Mummy?" Smith pleaded as he grabbed my waist, drawing me closer to him. I nodded my head, although I found it a bit weird. There had to be some Freudian theory on that.
"Your turn now. Let's take this off," Smith sounded impatient and helped me in removing my T-shirt. He grabbed my breasts and rubbed his face against them.
"Can I suck on your titties, Mummy?"
"Yes, Johnny," I whispered in his ear as he gently pushed me back on the pillows. I raked my fingers through his hair, guiding his head as he changed one breast for the other. At some point, he interrupted his sensual activity to unbuckle his belt and help me get rid of my pants. I could see the outlines of his erect penis through the white fabric of his underwear. Smith froze when I rubbed his hard bulge. I could sense the heat emitting from his tensed-up body.
"Do you like it, Mummy?" I was surprised to hear his unusually hoarse voice and looked up at him. A feverish blush radiated from his face and his lips were swollen. There was something oddly vulnerable and extremely seductive about his demeanour. Before, only the physical things he did to me aroused me, but his countenance didn't really stir any exciting feelings in me. I grabbed his face and sucked on his lower lip. His frustrated groan made me smile for some reason.
"Show it to me, Johnny," I muttered and bit his earlobe. My hands slid inside of his underwear, with the intention to pull them down but I couldn't execute that because Smith tackled me in a fit of passion.
"Oh, Mummy!" he stripped me off my panties and rolled down his, "Mummy! Let me fuck you! You'll love it, I promise!" he stuttered as he moved his hips up and down on me.
"You must help Mummy first, Johnny! Come on, lie next to me, baby" I pushed him back and took his hand, bringing it to my groin. He instantly understood what I wanted and gently fondled that area with his hand. Smith decided to multitask and covered my nipple with his mouth. I ran my fingers through his hair and moved my hand down, caressing his inner thighs. I liked the smoothness of his skin and the feeling of having his dick in my hand. As obscene as that action was, I fantasised about it quite often when my thoughts wandered off at work. There was something tremendously exciting in stimulating a man that way.
Smith took hold of my hip, pulling me close. I was highly aroused and thought I was ready for sexual intercourse. Although, I felt nervous just thinking about it.
"Do you have a condom?" I asked.
Smith reached behind him, opening the drawer of a bedside table, taking out a contraceptive.
"Just be slow and gentle, baby," I muttered as he mounted on top of me.
He nodded and gave small kisses on my face and neck while slowly moving his hips. I told him to hold still, because it seemed to me my legs were paralysed having him inside of me. Smith wrapped his arms around my back, whispering sweet things into my ear, hushing me down. He was planting kisses on my neck and shoulders, complimenting me on my body, telling me how beautiful I was, and how much he had craved to make love to me.
Before I knew it, he began to move his pelvis up and down. I liked his body, too. Its warmth. Its strength. The pace he was moving with. From the many things I knew that were wrong, making love to that man was one of the few things that were right. It felt familiar and safe, although when looking at it soberly, people would judge me for having sex with a total stranger who was also a convict. But in that blissful moment I didn't care.
Long before all of that had happened, I had come to the realisation that I would snatch everything from life that I wanted and, in all honesty, there wasn't that much for a thirty-three-year-old immigrant woman to snatch regarding romance and pleasure. But at that moment in time, I wanted that Anglo-Saxon man and knowing that he wanted me just as badly was gratifying.
I enjoyed making love to him but having his full weight pressing down on my body made it harder to breathe. My favourite position was on top of my partner, sitting on a coach or seat. To me, it was more intimate and fun, and I could determine the pace we were doing it at. I suggested for him to sit down, with his back resting against the headboard. Smith eagerly complied, firmly holding my hips as I mounted on top of him.
I made little pelvic movements, deriving pleasure from the tip of his penis slightly hitting against my cervix. Smith tried to keep his cool but the more I lost myself in that delight, the more agitated he became, begging me to let him pound me in that position so that I could experience that feeling better. I told him that it could hurt me because his dick was already up to my cervix and intense thrusting could cause damage to it. The thief slid off the pillows to lie on his back and pulled me on top of him, so that his cock wouldn't strike me so deep into my core. I caught his tongue between my lips as we were kissing and gently sucked on it. Smith seemed to enjoy that a lot because the next moment I heard him moaning and increasing the thrusting motion of his hips.
"Mummy! I'm about to come. I can't take it anymore!" he whimpered as his breathing quickened. I knew it would take me longer to reach an orgasm, and although I wanted to continue, I gave in to his pleas.
"You can come, Johnny. But you'll have to give Mummy a massage afterwards," Smith nodded fiercely and pushed my hips down with his hands, concentrating on reaching his climax.
"Yes, that's a good boy. Mummy is proud of you; you were so nice to her," I partook in his excitement, helping him to speed up the culmination.
Smith cried out as he ejaculated inside of me. I felt his entire body shaking and it looked like he was about to pass out. I caressed his face, waiting for his breathing to stabilise.
"Not yet. Let's stay like this for a while," he whispered as I tried to pull his penis out of me, "that was amazing! I don't remember coming that hard in my life. Did you come, Mummy?" Smith asked hopefully.
"No, I haven't. But my orgasm usually takes longer," I replied absently.
"You were so good to me to make me come. Next time I'll make sure Mummy comes, too," we made out for some time but then I needed to use the bathroom. Luckily, there was one on the same floor, so I didn't have to leave the warm space. Smith was still shaky as he sat on the bed, taking off the rubber. He followed me to the bathroom, wishing to take a shower together. We soaped each other as hot water streamed down our bodies. Afterwards, Smith dried me with a towel and carried me in his arms back to the bed. He kept his promise and gave me a full body massage. I felt relaxed and satisfied for the first time in many years. Smith switched off the light and got into bed with me, covering us under a warm blanket. I remember how he kissed my forehead and ran his fingers through my hair before I fell asleep.