The Michelin star chef

I can’t read him at all when I meet him: he’s quiet, polite and possibly not an axe murderer. He offers me a drink as soon as I get there and we do the chit chat you do when you don’t know where the evening might end.

After one drink I’m thinking that he’s just not that into me, I ask if he wants another one. And then he says “shall we go and play” which is a clear signal that oh my god it’s on.

He has previously sent me a photo of his bag of tricks which to me was like catnip. My only proper master lives a very long way away and I wanted someone real to experiment with, not a faux Dom.

We take a short train ride then walk to his place. I’m really glad I changed into a mesh body which shows off my boobs but not too brazenly.

His place is probably the most stylish I’ve ever seen a man inhabit. Bespoke wooden floors, cabinets and interior. But this ain’t Homes and Gardens.

I’m waiting for him to make a move, but he wants to make me a drink. I sit on a leather swivel chair in the lounge and spin around. I’m hoping he might pin me to it.

Instead he sits opposite me on the sofa, one leg up. Dammit.

I get up and sit beside him feeling stupid. Is he going to make a move? I think I ask for the loo and then when I come out he’s somewhere in the bedroom so I go through to take a look. It’s huge and stylish and all very bare – no art on the walls anywhere.

Although who cares. I’m here to be fucked. He tells me to get undressed so I do but leave my underwear on. He lays me down on the bed and places two leather shackles around my wrists, clipping them together. Oh my.

He teases me a little, running his hand over my body and nudging my pussy a little with his cock. Which seems oddly flaccid. And then my pants are peeled off and his mouth is on my pussy. Oh my, he knows his way around. I’m very close to coming. And then : turn over. He asks if I want to be spanked and I giggle. Flogger or paddle – I choose flogger.

I’m on all fours with him behind me. He teases first, running it down from the nape of my neck down to my bum. And then it comes. He’s soft at first but increases the pressure gradually and the area he’s covering. My rear smarts.

After a few strikes, he arranges my knickers and runs his entire hand over them – I guess to check how wet I am. I’m certainly ready to go.

He unhooks my wrists next and pushes my head down to his cock, telling me “no hands”. Wow. I hadn’t even looked at it and now I’m right up close. It’s totally shaven and hard as a rock, a beautiful specimen. It fills my mouth. I really want it inside me, and he knows it.

Soon I’m riding him, he fills my pussy and I ride him as if my life depends on it. I really want to come. I get close and then he flips me over. Torture. He’s on top and it’s just as good, a perfect fuck in fact.

We switch again and I ride him to orgasm. It’s a delicious one, building up and then dying beautifully inside. He pumps his cock into my mouth and soon his milky white cum is done my throat, over my lips and dripping over his stomach. I try and clear up as best I can.

I lie there for a bit and realise I need to go. It’s been the most amazing fuck I’ve had in a while but I have no idea of telling if he wants to continue or go to sleep.

I hop up and get my knickers on, quickly dress and find my trainers. He walks me to the tube and kisses me goodbye.

I take the ride home feeling incredible smug and satisfied.


It’s rained all day. He’s grumpy. I’m grumpy. It’s my first day in a new job. I’m late arriving at his because my boss wanted to take me to the pub.

We get back to his after buying some small snacks. Always his! I let on I hadn’t eaten so he insisted I get something. He tells me to relax and eat while he gets on with some odd jobs and calls. When he sits down I leap onto him and kiss him which startles him, he thinks I’m going to bite him.

I realise he’s either nervous or busy to calm down. He chats about what he’s been up to, and bless him, asks how my day was.

Later he runs me a bath and I sink into the depths of it while he goes out on an errand next door. I do actually relax. I wonder if he’s going to come and join me but don’t want to hope for too much. I’m not even turned on and I’m pretty sure he isn’t either, he’s barely touched me.

I don’t know whether to get dressed again or get into bed. I decide to put my underwear on and wear my shirt dress as a robe. I go back down to see what he’s up to. It’s gone midnight and I am at work again tomorrow.

Finally we climb into bed together. He asks if he can spoon me and play with my boobs so I agree and take off my bra top. The warmth of him against my back is so delicious : coupled with his fingers caressing my nipples I’m actually in heaven. Being wanted, being held. These are simple things which are not regularly available to someone like me; someone who shuns relationships but falls in love with someone she meets on a swingers site.

I nuzzle into his chest and his arm enveloping me is everything I need. He asks me about my new job and I choke up. Tears roll down my face as I explain the pressure I’m feeling, the pressure of being alone and having to survive. I tell him about a project I’m working on and he tells me to come downstairs and take a look at something.

His house is always a tip, but there’s one room I’ve never seen. He pulls the door open and I gasp. There are about one hundred glass globe jars with acorn trees growing out of them: every surface is covered. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a while.

We both shiver as we go back upstairs- we return to him spooning me again. His hands go down my pants and he plays with my clit for what feels like forever. He tells me he can’t get an erection but by this point I don’t care. A sleepover is enough, the warmth of his body is enough, his attention is enough – for now.

In the morning I shower and try not to wake him. He’s promised me a lift to the station but he’s dead to the world. I kiss him and say goodbye, leaving feeling disappointed again.