London, 2020 Pt. 02


Thank you to the readers of my first story ‘London, 2020’; your positive messages and favourite ratings are very much appreciated and encouraging for a first-time writer.

I have created another chapter following the relationship between Kris and Callie. I hope you enjoy reading it.


Walking back from the apartment, I feel a new lightness in my step. It’s an easy task to nip into the shower and wash the scent of Kris from my skin; no-one questions post-walk hygiene these days. With my hair wrapped in a towel, I walk naked into the bedroom and lie down, closing my eyes. I relive the afternoon’s events and let my fingertips trail slowly over my belly, just as Kris had done minutes earlier as a prelude to our goodbyes. After orgasm our bodies had melted together into a tenderness that surprised me, and we shared long, searching kisses before I reluctantly prepared to leave, dressing in front of him without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. It felt like we had been lovers for years.

“Next week, Callie?”

“Yes. Next week.”

There aren’t many messages exchanged in the meantime, life being what it is now, but on Sunday evening I’m thrilled to find an email with the subject title: Thursday. The text simply reads: ‘Wear your heels.’

When Thursday dawns I wake up early with a knot in my stomach. In the bathroom, filling the tub with jasmine-scented bubbles, I stare critically at my reflection in the mirror. There are dark shadows under my eyes and I look washed out. I didn’t sleep well. I’ve been struggling with guilt these past few days. Someone once said that the best predictor of future history is past history – and if that applies to fidelity, it was always going to be a safe bet that I would break my marriage vows sooner or later.

Although these days I’m the very model of a respectable London lady, my early twenties were liberally peppered with spicy one-night stands. Blonde men in tight t-shirts in Soho nightclubs. Dark, reserved businessmen in sober suits. Co-workers; bosses; friends. Some attached, some not. One who wanted biting on the chest until he bled; one who had me in the back of a black cab in Mayfair. It didn’t seem so adventurous at the time. I was young, with a beautiful body. It seemed only right to share it.

As time moved on my priorities changed. I wanted a home and children; a husband to adore. The man I wed was loving, kind and stable. We began happily enough, but I never imagined in those early days how my marriage would alter completely with the arrival of two babies, barely two years apart, and the gradual distancing of my husband, swallowed up by his ever-more demanding city career. Wave crashes upon wave in the sea of life; the exhilaration of birth; the exhaustion of raising children; the endless repetition of daily chores.

And yet. I find myself today preparing for another visit to my lover – a man I hardly know. Am I simply the same woman I was twenty years ago? Or is it these strange times that have persuaded me to stray? Like so many people in this pandemic I’ve felt helpless, angry, fearful and lonely – often all in the same hour. Of course I’m thankful for my many blessings. But I so desperately longed to reach out to someone. And that moment I saw his smile…

I sink into the warm water and close my eyes. As I remember how my body responded to Kris; how his touch set me alight with desire, I realise the reason for my betrayal hardly matters. I just want it to happen again.

I follow my soak in the bath with a liberal application of coconut oil, massaging it into my skin and running a little through my damp pubic curls. The heat from the bath has put some colour back into my face and once I’ve applied a little make-up and styled my hair into a shiny, bouncy bob, I start to feel happier again. What to wear? Something simple today. White t-shirt, navy shorts, bronze leather flats. The outfit shows off my slim figure and tanned legs, and is casual enough to quell any suspicion on the home front.

‘Wear your heels.’ Hah – not a chance. I’ll have to stash them and change when I arrive. I scan my wardrobe for possible candidates. Red suede slingbacks? No. Too obvious. Gold kitten heels? Not unless I’m spending the afternoon in the 1980s…

Ah. Here we go. Nestling at the back are a long-forgotten pair of stilettos in black patent leather. Perfect. I wipe off a thin layer of dust, restoring their glossy beauty. I can’t wait to wear them for my lover.

Heading for the front door a few minutes before 2pm, I have a narrow escape – suddenly the children want to join me on the daily walk. Quelling my panic, I remind them that sometimes Mum needs a break in my ‘firm but fair’ tone of voice. Thank heavens it works. I usher them to the games console and escape clutching my shopping bag, where the shoes are hiding under a pile of books intended as a lockdown gift for my neighbours. I take a quick detour Kartal Escort to give the Nintendo time to successfully absorb the kids’ attention and then walk swiftly back, taking the garden steps two at a time.

Kris has left the front door open for me. Once inside I feel a huge sense of relief, but barely have time to breathe before the man himself, effortlessly sexy in jeans and a faded t-shirt, appears and gathers me into an embrace; drowning my senses with a passionate kiss. The scent of his body is intoxicating and I let him take my weight, knowing it’s an easy ask of his strong arms.

The tip of his tongue, flame-hot, darts against mine, then languorously explores my mouth. I stifle a moan of desire. His lips slowly pull away, and I gather myself and open my eyes. As always, I’m struck by the contrast between his hard face and tender eyes. We gaze at each other silently and I can tell he is once again weighing up the options; deciding how, when and where today’s seduction will take place.

Who is he? Oh, he’s given me the biography, sure – but a man who can make love like Kris must have secrets…

Without thinking, I blurt out, “How many women have you had?”

He laughs, amused by the question.


But that’s as far as the answer goes. Still smiling, Kris lifts my arm to his mouth and, without breaking eye contact, licks my wrist with a long stroke of his tongue that jolts me into arousal. Feeling like I’m in a tiger cage at feeding time, I arch away from him very slightly but he senses it at once and increases the pressure on my back, pulling my body closer to his, and grazing my palm with his teeth.

When he hears a gasp catch in the back of my throat he releases me and I re-balance somewhat unsteadily.

“What’s in the bag?”

“My heels. As requested.”

I reveal the contents and he raises an eyebrow, smiling with satisfaction, before nuzzling into my neck and murmuring “Excellent”. Oh god, I want him. I squirm delightedly as his lips gently explore my skin, licking and teasing deliciously. A final nip with his teeth, making me jump and squeak like a kitten, and he pulls away.

“There’s tea in the pot, Callie. Help yourself. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom. I want you wearing nothing but the shoes. Okay?”

I’m not about to argue. Kris can’t be disobeyed. We both know that the rules I’m breaking – on so many levels – mean that in this space I have to be fully compliant. I nod my consent, lips parted with longing. He smiles and saunters off. In the time it takes to pour the tea and splash in the milk I become aware that my excitement is growing; I’m enjoying the idea of walking naked into the bedroom in my stilettos – making an entrance like a grand courtesan. But my sense of ownership over the situation is a false one. This is his place. Anything could happen here. All the power lies with him.

Breathing harder, trying not to get too nervous, I take a sip of tea. How long should I wait before walking in? Three minutes, five, ten? Time isn’t on our side – we both know that. But the anticipation is far more exciting than I’d imagined. Simply being in a different house after so many weeks of isolation is a thrill. I take one more sip of tea before quickly peeling off my clothes. When I get down to my navy blue lace pants there’s a damp, creamy stripe along the gusset. I smile to myself. I hope Kris will enjoy my arousal as much as last time.

I’m just reaching for the high heels when a brown leather wallet on the far side of the kitchen counter catches my eye.

Shall I peek? I glance guiltily over my shoulder; there’s definitely no sign of Kris. Maybe a quick rifle through the contents would be revealing… What would you do in my place, dear reader?

Curiosity briefly battles impatience…and loses. Fuck it. I came here to have his dick inside me and I’m not waiting any longer.

I avert my eyes from the wallet and slip on the shoes. They’re cold on the soles of my feet and I wobble very slightly, adjusting to the height change and a new, sexy posture. Giving my body a supple stretch, I raise my arms to the ceiling, feeling my ribcage lift. There’s a deepening curve in the small of my back; breasts and bottom pushing outwards and upwards; thighs and calves toned and firm. As a final preparation I fluff out my dark cloud of pubic hair and pinch my nipples erect, admiring their rosy-brown hardness. It’s only a few days until my period is due and my breasts are at their most full and sensitive, flesh straining against skin like ripe fruit ready to be plucked.

I lick my lips, take a deep breath and start heading slowly to the bedroom, exaggerating the natural sway of my hips. Owing to the densely carpeted floors there’s no resounding click-clack to herald my arrival (secretly the real reason all women wear heels) but when I push the door open the lustful look on his face is reward enough. Kris Kartal Escort is naked, lying on pristine white sheets with the casual grace of a man completely at ease in his own skin. The furniture has been rearranged – this time there is a low dresser covered with a towel at the foot of the bed, and the large mirror is leaning against the adjacent wall.

Kris approaches me, unsmiling now, stealthy as a cat. He leads me by the hand to the dresser and gently but firmly bends me over it. Now the towel makes sense; it softly cushions my waist and breasts as I lower myself down. I turn my head to the mirror. I see a woman pink-faced with apprehension and desire, her lovely legs in whore’s shoes, her naked bottom raised and exposed.

The dresser is the perfect height and I find I can lean all the way forward to grip the cold metal bed rail. This spontaneous action is rewarded with a silent nod from Kris, who is circling me like a predator. I’m desperate to feel the heat of his body, but he is taking his time – quietly enjoying my anticipation. Watching me in the mirror, he strokes his cock, displaying his full erection. I swallow hard. The L-shaped position is reminiscent of one of my Pilates poses, but I’ve never done it naked in high heels. My muscles are straining and tense. This needs to happen now.

Making sure I can see his every movement, Kris reaches for a condom and smoothes it over his thick shaft. This is torture. I know I won’t be able to stay quiet for much longer. But suddenly he’s behind me. Oh god. He’s in me, filling me faster than I’d expected, tipping my hips forward and pinning me to the dresser.

I don’t know what it feels like for him. I cannot. But as our loud moans soar together I know he must be experiencing something like the same shock of pleasure that engulfs me. I adore being penetrated although often the first thrust is never equalled by what follows. But today I know I won’t be disappointed. Circling his hands around my hips, ensuring I won’t be bruised by the furniture, Kris begins a series of long, slow thrusts – letting his cock almost slide right out of me before pushing firmly back in. It’s unbelievably good. In the mirror the action is pure porn; an athletic, cleanly-muscled man fucking a petite beauty, delighting in her cries of pleasure.

I’m crying out louder, beginning to lose myself in the rhythm, but to my dismay Kris stops suddenly, pulling me up to standing and grasping my wrists. He can’t resist turning me to face the mirror, letting me take in the moment. I’ve never looked so beautiful. My lips and cheeks are flushed like summer roses and my brown eyes are glittering. The heels give me an extra three inches of height and flatter my smooth curves. Kris peels off the condom, wet from my cunt, and flicks it deftly to the floor.

For a second I’m worried he’ll penetrate me again, unprotected, but he puts me at ease, murmuring softly, “I want to explore your body now, Callie. Every inch.”

Holding my gaze in the glass he starts to fondle my breasts. He begins gently, circling with his fingertips, tracing the outline of my curves.

“Does that feel good, angel?”

“Mm…yes, yes, Kris.”

He’s alert to my tiniest reaction – every gasp and sigh – increasing the pressure as he sees my excitement mounting. Soon he’s handling my breasts firmly, stroking and squeezing exactly the way I want, and I can’t take my eyes off the action in the mirror, watching my sensitive nipples harden under his touch, like spring buds ready to burst open.

“Oh, yes, Kris! Don’t stop. Oh god, please don’t stop.”

But he is a master of the tease – and stop he most certainly does. Laughing softly at my frustration, he kneels down and starts kissing my belly, licking my navel; his hands snaking down to the dip where my lower back curves into my bottom. I’m a goddess, a queen. I want him to worship my body forever. When he buries his face into my coconut-scented curls, my knees buckle and I nearly lose my balance, teetering on my heels. I lean back on the dresser, letting it support me as Kris, impatient to taste me, tongues the inside of my thighs, tipping his face upwards and into my cunt, relishing my wetness.

My moans and cries echo through the room and I’m struggling to keep still as his skilful tongue flickers against my clitoris. The pleasure is so acute it’s almost painful. My feet and calf muscles are beginning to ache and I desperately need to come.

I’m about to start begging for release but once again Kris has read my mind – and my body. Pulling away, he lifts me up easily, and carries me carefully, like a precious prize, over to the bed. Looking up at him from the soft sheets, I’m once again awed by his beauty. This man was born to be naked. He straddles me with strongly-muscled thighs, his jaw set firmly, his eyes ablaze with lust.

Imperiously sweeping my legs open with the flat of his hand, he lowers his head Escort Kartal and dips his tongue inside me again. The pressure is still too intense and I twist away, gasping that it’s too much, too much. With a knowing smile he retreats, moving up the bed to kiss me, his open mouth sharp with my acidic juices. I start to relax and he massages my belly until I quieten. After a pause he leans over to the bedside and burrows into a drawer, pulling out a small tin of vaseline.

Kris looks down at me with eyes I want to drown in.

“Shall we make you come, sweetness?”

There must be a look of trepidation on my face. He smiles reassuringly.

“I won’t hurt you at all. You’re safe here. But I know what you need right now. Trust me?”

My voice is a hoarse whisper.

“…Yes. Yes please.”

Kris pulls off my shoes and tosses them aside, letting my legs relax on the duvet. He lubricates his fingers carefully with the vaseline and then moves down the bed, getting comfortable. My head and shoulders fall back on the pillow and I open my thighs widely, joyfully, to his expertly probing fingers. I can feel soft caresses on my labia and then he eases me open like a flower, slowly inserting two thick, long fingers into my slick pussy. I moan loudly, arching my throat to the ceiling. Now, with exquisite delicacy, his tongue laps at my clitoris, sucking it gently into his hot mouth. After the first few sucks I’m writhing again and he slows the movements, waiting and watching as I float into erotic bliss.

Do minutes pass? Hours? Seconds? I have lost all sense of time. Kris is working my cunt with two hands now, only using his mouth when he knows I’m able to take it. He thrusts and licks, thrusts and licks, matching the rhythmic beats deep inside me. My orgasm is fast approaching and I’m lost in sensations beyond anything I’ve ever known.

“Oh….Oh yes, Kris! Oh god, I want more…please…”

At this he immediately pulls away, finds a pillow and deftly hoists my hips over it. Dizzy with confusion, longing for climax, I manage to arrange myself into this new, fully exposed position. He moves down the bed. I can feel his breath on my labia, whispering in my hot, wet curls of pubic hair. I arch my back delightedly, expecting his mouth to seek out my pussy again.

Instead I feel his middle finger pressing against my anus. Before I have time to react he pushes it in firmly up to the knuckle. I buck and scream, shocked and delighted; full of animal need. I’m soaked and sticky and throbbing.

As my shouts die away, Kris speaks in a calm, hypnotic voice; talking me into peace.

“It’s okay, Callie. Shhh. It’s okay, angel. You can take all of it, sweetness. You can come for me. It’s going to feel incredible, baby. I promise. Shh. Trust me.”

Yes. Yes, he’s right. The shock subsides and I realize, thanks to the lubricant mixed with the juices leaking from me, that there’s no pain – just the incredible sensation of being filled completely. The pit of my stomach squirms as Kris anchors his fingers in my slippery cunt again and begins gently to thrust.

For a few seconds the room is so quiet I swear I can hear my heart beating, but as his fingers gather speed, a sound unlike any I’ve made before is ripped out of me. It’s time. Kris lowers his head and starts licking my clitoris fast and hard, plunging his fingers in and out of my slick holes.

I have a moment of clarity – he is penetrating me anally and vaginally. The realisation overwhelms me and it takes only a few more seconds of rapid tonguing for him to bring me to the edge. I come hard, shouting his name over and over; my thigh muscles clenching the hands locked inside me.


When Kris returns from the bathroom to see me half-asleep on the sheets, limp with fulfilment, he laughs.

“Was it good, angel?”

“It was amazing,” I say frankly.

He grins back.

“I aim to please, sweetheart. My turn now?”

I nod, smiling, and he leans in to kiss me softly, barely brushing my lips. Then he straddles me, moving as always with admirable grace, and starts to masturbate. Easily I join in, caressing his tight balls and moving my fingers towards his perineum; massaging his thighs; touching my nipples, wanting to excite him visually. His body tenses and his sighs are coming louder, turning into moans. His controlled pumping suddenly slows before he climaxes, pushing his cock towards my expectant body.

“I’m coming! Oh, fuck…”

He covers me, sticky strands falling on to my breasts and neck. I love watching his rapture. As he sits back on his heels, beads of sweat on his brow, I lean over and take his cock, growing soft now, fully into my mouth, tasting the last few drops of heaven.


I’m cradled in his arms in a tangle of crumpled sheets. I’m still tingling from his fingers but the high of orgasm has faded into a mixture of serenity, sadness and a wistful half-regret. Soon it will be time to go. Kris props himself up on one elbow and looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read – is he amused? Upset? Angry?

“So, Callie. Did you look in my wallet?”

And I think, reader, we will leave the story there. Stay safe.

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