Sydian: Dinner
Keywords: Sydian:, Dinner,
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Sydian / Who came at Dinner? / Ch 1. Afternoon Delight—a Hot Tub
"You'll dress appropriately'….the line stayed in her head all day long. Luckily, the two o'clock had been perfunctory….they wanted to settle; and good for them! They were the one outfit that Sydd had relished tearing a new asshole for—and not as an act of pleasure, either—but their day would come….
"Evening ' to all as she left the office; took the elevator down, the descent causing her balls to rise in her thong…not exactly pleasant, that….she smoothed the front of the white shift, checked her seams—yes, white shift, white-seamed, Cuban-heeled thigh-highs—uhm huh—there were two places that ordered them just for her—one in the Village, the other in G'town. And, of course, her famous stilettos—these, white—how could they not be?.... She stepped from the elevator, turned onto the street and strode up the avenue….
Perfect spring evening. "What to wear….' "Appropriate' for what? She passed the flower stand….the smell of fresh lilies caused her to pause….So beautiful…. "Could I have two dozen please? A dozen white Callas, and the rest mixed Tigers….' She thought of Rivera's "Calla Lilies'….could see herself nude, kneeling, that apple-ass of hers exposed, exposing her thick "tail,' as she gathered her lilies "a la" Rivera…The short, Asian woman handed Sydd the bundle and smiled, "Almost as pretty as you….' Sydd would have blushed, if she could…She just bent and pecked the old one on the cheek, paid her, and waved goodbye….
"What to wear?' it still played in Sydd's head as the doorman opened the door. She crossed the atrium of the condo for the glass elevators; she didn't bother to check her mail….he held the elevator for her….absent-mindedly she said thank you, and just as nonplussed, she untied her thong and whipped it from beneath her hem without flourish—sighed—freedom….he wasn't there; at least not for her he wasn't; though his reaction was quite readable: somewhere between shock and the wish to see more….
The air felt too good kissing her crotch….She had been "good' all day….well, at least since her "workout'….The air made her cock twitch…he may have noticed…but it was his stop…Sydd smirked…blew a kiss at the back of his bald head and continued her ascent….She was swollen by the time the door open a floor below the penthouse…..
***
She really didn't want sex…at least not yet….What she really wanted was the tub—deep, hot, luxurious….and enough time for a nap….and what to wear….
The tub steamed. A fragrant mist hung above the scented, oiled waters. Flowers were arranged all around the huge bathing space; candles flickered against the smoked mirrors, making the space even larger. They reflected walls tiled from ceiling to floor, completely black, matched by a black pedestal sink, toilet, and bidet, a corner shower, and a deep black whirlpool tub. The blackness was only broken by strings of minimalist copper sheathed lamps, suspended from the ceiling; above them, the skylight.
The skylight was wondrous. It consumed the center of the room; the tub took up half of its lighted space. Sydd stepped into its light, candles flitting against the mirrored backdrop. The metallic black silk robe fell from her shoulders like a slow-motion movie pan….The evening sun had its chance to kiss and bathe her before the water would….Light cascaded off the slope of her brow, was cradled in hollows of the her finely sculpted shoulders, caught the tips of her erect nipples, glossed the cheeks of her ass, glanced off the head of that flaccid wonder between her thighs, and stopped to dance between her toes….black, polished sculpture in the center of this black mirrored space; naturally lit. Lemons. Lemonade. Sydian was in love with life—no doubt about it as the big toe tested the waters…..She knew how to manage it, even the hot water….
She stepped into the tub. Slid beneath the surface. The waters enclosed her like a blanket—a comforter….the jets began to hum. Below the surface, water swirled, caressing and pricking her flesh all at the same time. She closed her eyes; in her nakedness, settled back….
She knew it would happen. It always did. The body is a curious thing. Especially for those "curious things' blessed with certain portions of the male anatomy. Here, water—hot or cold—is supposed to have the same effect; both cause the organ to "retreat.' It shrinks in self defense. But in hot water, once acclimated and with the proper mindset, the relaxed body flexes its own "muscle.' The jets of the whirlpool help. Sydd was totally amazed—"undone'—when she first realized the carnal benefits of the whirlpool. Of course, they were "carnal'; after all, it was the body. But the whirlpool's jets, properly positioned, were ultimately decadent—the very proper reference to the carnality that could be experienced in the tub.
Sydd knew what water could do. She had experienced the faucet as a kid….jacking in the shower was a serious adolescent pleasure. But they held nothing in comparison to the tub and its jets. Sydd's tub was custom. The jets had been positioned according to various anatomical specs—some therapeutic; some even more so….
Acclimated; physically relaxed; calm and cocooned, Sydd let the water have its way. She let it works its magic….The strangest of the jets—three of them—were situated on the floor of the tub, less than six inches apart, in the immediate proximity of where she would rest her bum….and of course her cock….on the tile wall was the control-panel. Sydd knew its braille by heart.
The one beneath her ass began a slow rhythmic pulse….almost as if it had a life of its own…it was programmed—they all were; water temp and timing….The jet pulsed up her ass. She snuggled; eyes closed; buoyant, she swiveled her hips in the water, found its rhythm. Just then the jet in front of her cock switched on. Its gentle force pushed her cock flat against her belly. A thousand bubbles attacked her asshole and balls, then washed up the shaft of her cock and over its head…..
Two side jets kicked in and forced her cock to stand straight in the churning water…straight and hard….water swirled around the barely submerged head, nipping and biting it…Sydd moaned…thrashed lightly as her grip on the sides of the tub grew tighter and tighter….it always happened this way….She was a prisoner in her own tub. The sensation of the water and the jets suspended and immobilized her. Her cock rose from the water without her ever having to touch it, licked and whipped by the froth….
It was excruciating. Her knuckles ached gripping the tub. Her hips gently pumped the water….The jet angled at her prostate jammed it with a hard, thick spray. She jumped and cream leaped from the slit of her cock. Some splattered her bottom lip. More spurts of cum jumped from her slit as the jet punched the fragile space between her balls and asshole….they hit the foam, the cream churning, creating a milk bath….
Sydd's moan was muffled as the assault ended…She turned her face sidewise in the neck cradle that prevented her from slipping below the surface, and slipped below the surface of a light sleep….
The water lapped above her lip, she caught the scent of her own cum, roused herself, and stepped from the tub to the rug. What had been sunlight was now moonlight, and the slick, water-beaded onyx sculpture was awash in light once again….
Sydian/Who came at Dinner?/Ch 2. Dressed Appropriately
Naked. Sydd moved slowly from the black of the bath to the white of the bedroom. Cool, crisp, white cotton sheets beckoned. Freshly laundered, smelling of nothing but clean, she collapsed—clocked for twenty minutes of repose. The proverbial power nap—smooth, black body on crisp, white, cool cotton.
Amazing. Twenty minutes and all new. Re-energized. The power nap…. "hmmmmm…..power. What to wear?' Sydd rose, walked into the closet. "Power,' she mused, "power.' And there it was—the central piece. New; she hadn't had the chance to wear this one: black, leather corset, front-clasped, and boned. It beckoned; it pointed her to the crotch-less jodhurs—"Sure,' she laughed, "now the clothes are talkin' to me.' But, the intuition was right. There was the supple leather cod-piece, and finally, the five-inch, black thighboots—stiletto only, please.
She brought the gear back to the bed, dumped it there. She grabbed a bottle of body-oil, lavished her body from head to toe. The sheen she obtained made her "reflective'….she toweled to a soft, soft glow…. "better,' she cooed. She buffed her nails. Ruffled, then brushed that nappy, blond head—winked at herself: "hey, pretty, black girl….Mmmmmm, you're naked….' Yeah, Sydd could be a fool…big fun, but you didn't want to get on her bad side….
Yep. She was naked. In the full-length, she started her face. Some would argue that there wasn't much to do. She was—the word is—"striking.' No two ways about it: either so "odd' that you stared; or so stunning you were forced to look twice. She had been known to take the breath away. The genetic material showed right through. And rather than try to hide it, she capitalized on it. On the narrow face everything was accentuated—wide. Wide, almond-shaped eyes; high cheek bones; long, wide nose. And that wide, full mouth. And the color! In a jealous hiss, she had once been called "purple'—she wasn't quite all that, but there was no mistaking that she was black. Then against that, the "opposites' of those short blond napps, and those cobalt lenses….And "voila!', as the marketers would say, "Totally ethnic.' Yep. A real, black "girl.' A queen of the African diaspora….a ""queen",' literally, she laughed….
Eyes and lips done, she felt the rush. A tingle, a slight stirring in the loins. She glanced in the mirror, smiled: "Hello.' "Sydd, you're such a little bitch,' she thought. "Keep it up and you'll never be able to tie that codpiece….'
***
All done up, Sydd pulled the corset round her back, sucked in and began snapping the "fireman's' clasps.
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Keywords: Sydian:, Dinner,