“I think we’re alone now,
there doesn’t seem to be anyone around.
I think we’re alone now,
the beating of our hearts is the only sound.”

Tiffany

Sydney – July 1997

Christian took the blindfold from the box and tied it around Alison’s eyes. The knot sat snug at the back of her head. She tested it once with her fingers and let her hands fall. Whatever happened next would happen to her, not with her. She stood there in the darkness, wondering, welcoming, wanting whatever happened next. The blindness delayed each sensation and heightened its effect.

She felt his hands on her shoulders and his lips on hers. They kissed passionately for a moment, then he withdrew. He stayed close enough that she could feel the warmth of his mouth and not the mouth itself. Alison leaned after him and found only air. The small, helpless sound she made seemed to please him; she heard him breathe out through his nose, almost a laugh. Then he resumed, pausing just beyond her lips before returning to her again. Ecstasy and agony increasing slowly with each contact and each denial.

Unseen hands moved slowly over Alison’s body, caressing her arms, her back, her bum. Another kiss, and his hands were on her hips, fingers searching. Another, his palms were warm against her skin. One more and her shirt rose from her waist. Cool air found the strip of skin at her waist before his hands did. She flinched, then pushed into the warmth of his palms as if she could make him hurry. He did not hurry.

Her shorts came down next, softer kisses on her belly and hips, hands on her legs and arse. He kissed the inside of one thigh and left the other waiting. The imbalance was worse than being touched. She shifted her weight and felt how wet she already was, the cotton of her pants clinging when she moved. She was so wet. With a pause and his hands were on her bra, fingers tracing the line where fabric met flesh. She quivered on the edge of the abyss, the last barrier before the plunge. Her bra slowly came up and over her head, great attention paid not to disturb the blindfold. Suddenly Alison was free; the cool air causing her to shiver and harden. Her nipples tightened so fast it almost hurt. He did not put his mouth on them at once. He breathed across one, then the other, and Alison’s knees softened. Warm breath and kisses on each breast, softer still. She gushed and moistened.

A man is blindfolding a woman in a cozy bedroom setting, with a warm lamp light and a poster on the wall. The woman looks calm while wearing a dark sweater.
All dressed up and somewhere to come

More kisses on her belly, firm hands on her arse. A kiss on her pants saturated with anticipation. A pause, one more kiss, and slowly her pants fell away. They stuck for a second where she was wettest, then gave. The air on her was indecent. She stood with her thighs parted without being asked, already offering him the mess he had made of her. Alison was his, naked and vulnerable. He could do anything, and she wanted him to. Kisses on her thighs, hands on her bum. He paused, then he lowered her to the chair.

The seat was cool beneath her. Within a minute it was not. She could hear herself, a soft wet sound each time she shifted, and the knowledge that he could see it and she could not make her grip the arms of the chair.

She was so wet now that she imagined it puddling up on the chair beneath her. Another pause, the silence broken only by Alison’s breathing. His hands were on her again, gently caressing every curve. Kisses on her mouth, her neck, and breasts. Hands slowly moving over her. Kisses on her thighs, hands gently easing her legs apart. More kisses, a nibble. His tongue.

“Oh God, yes, please!”

 Kisses, closer, warm breath, closer, a tongue. Hands everywhere. A tongue, a tongue, oh fuck yes…. a tongue. He did not rush the clit. He licked around it, slow and flat, until she was lifting her hips to chase him, then gave her exactly what she was chasing and took it away again.

“Please,” she said, and hated how small it sounded. “Christian. Please.”

Alison arched and shuddered. Christian kneaded her bum as she squeezed her breasts, breathing hard and smiling. She held her breath, her wetness on his face.

Moaning, she cried out, “Yep, yep, yes, fuck, fuck, oh fuck!”

He released her, then pulled back slightly, using the view to memorise the moment. Her outstanding beauty, her bliss, her.

Waves of pleasure enveloped Alison as she shuddered in the darkness. She came with her mouth open and no words left in it, one hand fisted in his hair, the other crushing her own breast. Her wetness smeared his mouth and chin. He stayed there through the worst of the shudder and did not let her close her legs.

She was done, but didn’t dare move without his permission. He had total control over her. She was his to use and command. But he hadn’t finished. He moved his hands across her again. More gently, he touched only the areas that had been untouched and kissed those that had been. The wave continued to roll on at his urging, unable to fully recede. A lifetime passed, her skin continuing to tingle under his tender assault. Then the kisses worked their magic again. He went down for the second time. She was too sensitive. The first stroke of his tongue made her jerk and swear. He pinned her thighs open with his forearms and did it again, gentler, then not gentle at all.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can,” he said against her, and proved it.

“Oh, good, good, good! Yes, just there, that’s it.”

The second time was faster, Alison still primed. The second one took less and gave more. She sobbed once, surprised by it, and felt him kiss the inside of her thigh as if thanking her. When she was done, Christian kissed her on the mouth and eased her blindfold up, then kissed her again.

Alison had to have him now. She could endure only so much sensation without him inside her. When the blindfold rose, she saw him still kneeling in front of her, making it easy for her to pull his shirt over his head. Her eyes had to adjust. He was flushed, mouth shining with her, still on his knees like a man who had not finished being useful. The sight of that went straight through her. When that was gone, she ordered him to his feet and knelt to attack his buckle. She pulled his jeans down, revealing his pants and growing bulge.

“On the bed,” Alison ordered. He sat down, and she pulled the jeans away from his long legs. She removed his pants, and his cock sprang to life, growing larger before her eyes. She knelt and took Christian into her mouth. She tasted herself on him first, salt under the heat of his skin. He was already hard enough to ache. She took him deep enough to make her eyes water, held him there, then pulled off with a wet sound and looked up.

The soft and warm embrace caused him to throw his head back and close his eyes. He kept them closed, focusing on the sensation of her lips and tongue. She was on the right track. Alison could feel him growing still larger in her mouth, his heat electrifying. She was getting horny again, and she didn’t want him to cum before she’d had a ride.

“Not in my mouth,” she said. “Not yet. I want you where I can use you.”

A few more seconds to make sure he was hard and wet, then Alison stood up, pushed him down and climbed aboard.

Alison took Christian by the hand and guided him in. he was so wet he slid to the hilt on the first push and still stretched her. Alison braced a hand on his chest and stayed there a moment, full, feeling her own pulse around him.

“Look at me,” she said. He did.

Two become one

They both sighed. His cock pushed her open, then popped all the way in. Christian looked up, cast his eyes over her, and smiled. Alison felt like a goddess. He threw his head back again and closed his eyes. Each thrust built on the pleasure of the last. Each time she dropped, the wet slap of it filled the room. A week ago those same thighs had been strapped into webbing and caked in red dust. Now they were spread over him, shaking, and she did not care who she had been. He pushed up from the bed, meeting her as she plunged down toward him. He stroked and scratched her skin and fondled her breasts, caressing and squeezing.

A week ago, Alison was just another soldier, covered in grime and armed to the teeth. Now she was naked before him in the lamplight, enthusiastically riding him in all her feminine perfection.

Alison stooped and kissed him before rising again to resume their dance. His breathing shallowed and then stopped; a deep crease came over his brow. His face reddened, and his fingers dug into her flesh. His hands left her breasts and locked on her hips, trying to set the pace. She caught his wrists and pinned them to the mattress.

“No,” she said, breathless and smiling. “You had your turn.”

He cried out as he came, causing her to jump and smile. He came with his head tipped back and his hips bucking up into her, a broken sound caught in his throat. Alison rode the pulses out of him, watching his face the way he had watched hers, and did not stop until he was trembling and spent beneath her.

She rode him till he was done and then collapsed on his chest, exhausted.

A woman and a man sitting at a wooden table in a café, smiling at each other over cups of coffee, with a scenic view of the beach through the window.
What day is it? I haven’t a clue.

In the morning, they lay in bed as long as they dared, kissing and cuddling and caressing every inch of each other they could reach. When Alison finally released Christian from her clutches, they snuck through the apartment into the shower block unnoticed. A chance to scrub some of the night away and to get a better look at her prize in the full daylight.

As they showered, Christian watched the bubbles find their way over every one of Alison’s curves and into every one of her crevices. He reflected on the situation he found himself in. Less than a week ago he was 1,000 miles away, single, miserable and homeless. Not homeless, but coming back to a house that would be virtually empty of furniture and very empty of all its people. Less than twelve hours after that, he was unexpectedly rolling around on the ground playing “feel me up” football with the blonde goddess that a dozen other men had tried and failed to conquer. And now, a week later, he was inches away from her willing, naked body that he’d just spent the last night violating.  

Alison saw that Christian was tall, at least six-foot. Taller than her tall 5’ 7”; a perfect match. Dark brown hair, black, perhaps, and unusually, amber coloured eyes. He had a muscular body, but not bulky. Clearly someone fit and strong, but not from static gym work. On his torso he had dark hair, which she loved to run her fingers through, but it was not thick enough to obscure his skin and features below. He said that he loved cycling, and it showed on his thighs and calves: long and strong.

When they emerged from the suds, they dressed and drove down to Bondi Beach for breakfast, sitting in a seafront cafe but ignoring the scenery that tourists flew halfway around the world to take in. They were only interested in looking at one thing: each other. Pte. Benaud and Lt. Holland sipping coffee on the seashore in post-coital bliss less than a week after never a word passing between them. As they drove back home, Alison placed her hand on his leg. He had died and gone to heaven.

But because they had slept in so late, there wasn’t any time for any more fun after they arrived back at Alison’s flat. They had just enough time to get ready for Fiona’s 21st party. Alison remembered little about that celebration, but later everyone told her she had a grin on her face the whole time. She held his hand, but as happy as she was, she just wished that they were somewhere else. She could still feel Christian inside her, and her body rocking back and forth, back and forth. No wonder she was grinning.

They stayed until after the speeches before Christian had to drop Alison at her new job in Darling Harbour. He picked her up at 6pm and they went back to her flat. After dinner, he gave Alison her second gift: the bottle of massage oil. He stripped off her clothes again and laid her down and slowly rubbed the oil on.

Alison had never had an intimate massage before, but Christian clearly knew what he was doing. He laid her down on her chest and turned the lights down low. The oil flowed over her like a liquid skin, magically worked into every curve and sinew by his expert hands. She lay there naked, eyes closed, feeling completely safe and adored, praying that Christian would take forever to work his magic. It was not a chore for him, more the gift of her to him. There was nary a second that he didn’t thank his luck for each moment that night spent touching and caressing her.

When he was ready, he rolled Alison over and took his reward. She lay there for him, letting him do with her as he pleased; looking, touching, playing. She was ready to be claimed, but if he’d just kept looking at or playing with her, that was okay, too. This was a feeling she’d never experienced before  — adoration.

Christian teased Alison, just avoiding her breasts and heat for as long as he could. His hands moved down from her breasts and slipped between her legs and rolled her between his fingers. The tension built rapidly, and within minutes she was again teetering on the edge of her abyss. Her entire body seemed to re-centre on her clitoris as Alison channelled this latest sensation. When she came, Alison could hear herself moaning. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Alison lay shaking for minutes as he admired her beauty and again praised his luck in meeting her.

Finally, Alison’s animal instinct took over, and she leapt on him, kissing and tearing at his clothes. She forced Christian down onto the bed and grabbed his hard, beating cock, her hands still slippery with oil. Then she swallowed him whole, devouring Christian as if she were starving.

She was so ravenous for him she had to keep telling herself to slow down. Alison used tongue and hand in tandem, never letting him out. He quickly peaked, and she opened her eyes to watch the show. She jerked him until the last moment, then released her hand to ensure that she had maximum mouth around him when he came. He arched and threw his head back, and a moment later, he exploded in ecstasy, filling her mouth with his cum. Alison sucked and licked and sucked harder, neither of them wanting it to end. She swallowed everything he could eject, sucking and sucking till she was sure he had no more, then licked and sucked him until he was soft.

Christian pulled her up to him and passionately kissed her. “You are amazing!” he said.

High praise indeed; Alison blushed.

Book cover of 'The Night We Met' by JL Collins, featuring a couple embracing against a city skyline at night, with the tagline 'The Love Story of a Lifetime.'

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One call. One warning.
Come back… or he dies.


Shop for JL Collins Paperbacks


One response to “The Night We Met – Ch.8”

  1. […] couldn’t find our blind fold,” she said […]

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