I've always thought stockings were sexy. Not panty hose but actual stockings. Probably a sexist response but for a man like me they do make a breezy day much more interesting. Currently I was stretched out on the bed and had my crossed arms behind my head with a stocking tying my wrists together. Simone had wrapped them nicely, ending it in a bow with easy ends for freeing me when needed.

We were in the guest bedroom upstairs. I'd been more than willing to take her to my room but Simone had said that someplace neutral and less emotionally-charged would be better to start, and I saw the sense in that. Didn't mean we wouldn't be going to my own bed eventually but I'd promised to learn from her and this was part of it, apparently.

"All right . . . are you comfortable?" she asked as she leaned over me checking my hands. Given that it brought her chest nearly into my face I grinned.

"So far, so good," I told her cheekily.

I got a patient look in return as she sat up and rested a hand on my chest. We were still dressed at the moment and I was damned curious how things were going to go, but a pleasant tingle was starting low in my belly. Simone took my loafers and socks off, setting them at the foot of the bed before coming back to sit near my hip.

"You look far too smug, Dwayne Pride," she accused lightly, her gaze sweet. "Not even the least bit tense, are you?"

I thrust my jaw forward a bit. "Wellll parts of me might be."

Simone smiled. "Let's see if we can make things more interesting." She undid the buttons of my shirt and pulled it open, giving a little purr of appreciation as she did so. I'd done more blushing around this woman than I had in a long time and this moment was no exception; I felt the heat radiating from my face as she looked over my chest.

"Ohhh my. That's very nice," Simone told me. "Muscles and fur! May I touch you?"

"I'd . . . like that," I told her, my mouth a little dry. To be stretched out and exposed to her was kinda strange but I knew she'd be gentle, and having her study me so intently wasn't hard on the ego. I work at keeping myself in shape, and genetics have blessed me with a good frame but when you're inching up in the years it's not always easy to feel . . . desirable. Even less so when the one woman you've been with for years decides not to be with you anymore.

But all those thoughts disappeared when Simone pressed her hand in the middle of my chest and toyed with the silvery curls there. The heat of her touch sent a shiver through me, and she brought the other hand up, sliding them around my furry pecs to rest over my nipples. The sensuality of that sent a hard flare down my stomach and I shuddered a little.

She purred again. "Touch hungry. It's been a while since you've enjoyed being stroked. I don't understand why, Dwayne. You are gorgeous!"

I wanted to argue but I was enjoying it too much so I just blinked a bit. Simone bent down and kissed my cheek, her hands sliding to cup the sides of my neck. I looked at her and she kissed my mouth, bringing that warmth and sweetness right where I needed it most. I kissed her back, struggling a little because of my tied hands, but she seemed to understand and kept kissing me.

Kept reassuring me how much she enjoyed it.

I like kissing. It's a great start to all sorts of intimacy and they can be as silly or sacred or sensual as the two people involved want it to be. Most people think of kisses as the appetizer to more, but I'm a man who could make a meal of kisses, especially the ones I was sharing right now. Wet slow sweet kisses; deep sensual utterly animal kisses. Simone had a delicious mouth and the nip of her teeth sent little jolts through me when she pressed them on my bottom lip.

I wanted to hold her; pull her closer but being tied up didn't let me. The sensation was frustrating but weirdly, in a good way. Because I couldn't hold her, I concentrated on enjoying the kissing, and when Simone started to let her hands stroke me as well the sensations intensified. I gasped a little, and she gave a giggle.

"You are one sweet beast," she said, and those words sent a searing pang of lust through me like a shot of bourbon on an empty stomach.

"Simmmone," I managed, "I . . ."

She paused, watching me, hands resting along my bare ribcage. "It's powerful, I know. Just being able to play with your chest and kiss you is delicious."

"I don't know if I can take much more," I admitted. She was right—my body was sensitized to those hot hands of hers, and there was no way Simone could miss the thick ridge rising along my fly.

She leaned down again, looking deeply into my eyes. "Say the word and I'll untie you. I want you comfortable and happy, but . . ." Simone trailed off, lightly pressing that sweet mouth against mine, muffling her words a little, "I think you can take a little more, Dwayne Pride. You're a big strong man with a deep appetite for sensuality and I really want to touch more of you, darling."

That voice of hers, those words . . . I closed my eyes, hoping I didn't embarrass myself by going off like a rocket. I took a deep breath.

"Okay," I agreed, hoarsely. Not only was I getting one hell of a lesson in kink, and it dawned on me that so far I was liking it almost too much. I shifted a little and Simone stood up.

"Watch me," she ordered, and as I did, she flipped the hem of her sundress up over her head, slipping out of it to stand there in a bra and panty set of light pink.

And Jesus GOD, a matching garter belt and stockings. I bit my lip so damn hard I drew blood.

"Shit!" I blurted, partially out of pain and partially out of a runaway surge of desire. "Not helping!"

She giggled again, sauntering over. "You're right. Time to stop teasing."

I was in a haze by now; nearly overwhelmed and not in any mood to resist, not that I wanted to. Simon straddled my knees and undid my fly, tugging my slacks and shorts down enough to free my cock.

"This," she told me, "is magnificent."

Her hands caught my cock, and stroked. Those sweet hot hands moving up and down the length of me drove me out of my mind. I lost the ability to speak or think coherently as I bucked my hips up and Simone slid her fingers in a snug grip, putting perfect pressure just where I needed it.

A few strokes more and I came, hard. I grunted, feeling the splash spattering down on my chest but Simone didn't let go until the last of it dribbled out, smiling at me the entire time. When I could breathe, she leaned down, laying on my chest, and reached behind my head, giving a tug on one of the stocking ends, freeing me.

Insane. I was sticky, satiated, and at this point saturated but I didn't give a damn. Her weight felt perfect on me, and once my hands were loose I wrapped them around her, nuzzling her neck, feeling shy and dazed. Not just the usual post-orgasm sensation-this was different.

It was intimate.

-oo00oo—

I wasn't sure how I felt, and Simone told me that was normal. She held me for a while and we didn't say anything. Part of me wanted to return the favor so to speak, but when I stroked her back, she kissed her way up my neck and told me to savor the afterglow.

"This one was for you," she assured me. "Seriously. I am over the moon at being able to enjoy your climax with you. My turn's coming at some point, I know. No worries."

Strange. Her words made me feel better and I tried to relax, but trying to sort my feelings out was a little more difficult than I thought.

"So this is . . . what you like?" I managed.

"Among other things," Simone told me with a happy sigh. "And I don't need it all the time. I couldn't because it's . . . intense. A sort of hyper-experience."

"No shit," I admitted with a wry laugh. "Not what I expected at all, but-"

"Good?" she looked at me anxiously. I brushed one of those dark curls of hers back and gave her a smile.

"Damn good."

-oo00oo—

I washed off and she did too, the pair of us using wet washcloths to clean up. One of the less glamorous aspects of sex is semen, and yet Simone was cheerful and sweet, teasing me and not taking the moment seriously.

I changed and once we were dressed we headed downstairs again. I held Simone's hand, wanting that contact. She was right about being a little touch-starved and if she was willing to offer hers I was more than willing to take it. We went back to the kitchen and I took out the oysters from the warming oven, serving them up while sitting with her in the courtyard.

Apparently we both had good appetites, and they tasted marvelous. Maybe the hypersensitivity lingered but everything seemed in sharper focus and I took it in, enjoying it.

"So, how do you feel now?" she asked. When I gave her a look, Simone added, "sort of aftercare. Checking in to see how you're doing so you know you're not alone."

"Physically I feel great," I told her, tucking my napkin to the side of my plate. "Even mentally I'm in a pretty nice place. Except for the reciprocity."

Simone chuckled. "You're such a caregiver and yet you don't realize what you've given me today."

I probably looked as confused as I felt; she reached over to take my hand. "Control," Simone clarified. "You trusted me. That's huge in my world, Dwayne. I'm still a little giddy from that and will be for a while. Thank you, mon ange."

"You're . . . welcome," I told her, feeling a crooked grin on my face. "The other thing though . . . that makes us . . . ?"

"Intimate friends," Simone told me with a squeeze of my fingers. "Yes?"

"Yes," I told her, but something inside me didn't much like that label. "Maybe more?"

Simone held my gaze, and I saw something sad flit across her expression. "In time," she agreed and I knew I'd have to settle for that at the moment.