Speaker 1: It's Thursday, September eleventh, and time for your daily fuck.
Speaker 1: The late afternoon sun cuts through the leaves, dappling the
Speaker 1: chessboard and shifting patterns of light and shadow. The only
Speaker 1: sounds are the distant master of children on a playground
Speaker 1: and the soft, deliberate click of wood on wood. Across
Speaker 1: from me, my opponent leans forward, his brow frowed in concentration.
Speaker 1: His name is Alex, and for the last hour we've
Speaker 1: been locked in a silent and brutal war over sixty
Speaker 1: four squares. He's handsome, with intelligent eyes and strong, capable
Speaker 1: hands that hover over his pieces with agonizing slowness. But
Speaker 1: it's his mind. I'm attracted to the sharp, strategic way
Speaker 1: he thinks, the way he anticipates my moves. We've been
Speaker 1: trading more than just pieces. We've been trading barbs, little
Speaker 1: lines of flirtatious trash talk that have turned this quiet
Speaker 1: game into a potent form of foreplay. My queen is
Speaker 1: about to put your king in a very compromised position.
Speaker 1: I slide my most powerful piece across the board. He
Speaker 1: looks up from the board, a slow smile spreading across
Speaker 1: his face. You're leaving yourself wide open. Are you sure
Speaker 1: you want to do that? Maybe I like being wide open.
Speaker 2: The game has become a mirror of my desires.
Speaker 1: Every piece I capture feels like an article of his
Speaker 1: clothing I'm removing. Every advance I make on his king
Speaker 1: feels like my hands exploring his body.
Speaker 2: And now I see it.
Speaker 1: The final move, a beautiful, perfect, inescapable Mate in three.
Speaker 1: I wonder if he sees it, and watch after I
Speaker 1: make the first move. He doesn't, and rather than resign,
Speaker 1: he moves upond to protect his king. I pick up
Speaker 1: my rook, my fingers closed around the cool carved wood,
Speaker 1: I slide it into place with a definitive click. Mate
Speaker 1: in two. He stares at the board and he sees it.
Speaker 1: His shoulders slump into feet. Then he looks up at me.
Speaker 1: His eyes are a stunning cocktail of admiration, frustration, and
Speaker 1: raw undisguised arousal. He lost, and he is absolutely thrilled
Speaker 1: by it. In that instant, I decide that winning the
Speaker 1: game was just the beginning of my victory.
Speaker 2: He picks up my brook and waves it at me.
Speaker 2: You're right, it's a mate in two.
Speaker 1: I wasn't talking about the game I slide my foot
Speaker 1: forward and run it up his calf. He doesn't speak,
Speaker 1: He just gives a single, sharp nod. His eyes are
Speaker 1: locked on mine. He has completely submitted to both my mates.
Speaker 1: I lead him away from the public chest tables, our
Speaker 1: feet crunching on the gravel path as we walked toward
Speaker 1: a secluded grove of weeping willows near the edge of
Speaker 1: the park. The moment we're hidden from view by the
Speaker 1: thick trailing branches, I turn to him turn around. He
Speaker 1: obeys my question. I unbuckle his thick leather belt, pulling
Speaker 1: it free from the loops of his cheins. He stands
Speaker 1: perfectly still as I pull his hands behind his back
Speaker 1: and bind his wrists tightly together. He's completely at my
Speaker 1: mercy on your knees. He drops to his knees on
Speaker 1: the soft, damp earth. I stand before him, a conquering queen,
Speaker 1: a conquering queen before her captive king. I place my
Speaker 1: hands on his shoulders and push him onto his back,
Speaker 1: his bomb hands trapped awkwardly beneath him.
Speaker 2: Then I hike up.
Speaker 1: My son dress, straddle his chest, and slowly lower myself
Speaker 1: onto his face. His mouth meets me with a desperate, hungry, eagerness.
Speaker 1: His tongue now his only weapon is a masterpiece. He
Speaker 1: licks and the laps at me, his breath coming in hot,
Speaker 1: ragged gasps against my skin.
Speaker 2: I'm in total control.
Speaker 1: I set the pace, my hips rocking in the slow,
Speaker 1: torturous rhythm, grinding my clit against the rough texture of
Speaker 1: the stubble. His helplessness is a fire in my blood.
Speaker 1: With his hands tied, all he can do is take
Speaker 1: what I give him, and his frantic, muffled groans tell
Speaker 1: me he adores his defeat. The pleasure is building, coiling
Speaker 1: tight in my stomach, The risk of being discovered, the
Speaker 1: smell of the damp earth, that, the feeling of his
Speaker 1: mouth working so desperately on me, It's all pushing me closer.
Speaker 1: I lean forward, bracing my hands on his shoulders, and
Speaker 1: writhe his face with a wild, frantic energy.
Speaker 2: My leg's tense.
Speaker 1: He can tell unclose, and his tongue flicks against my
Speaker 1: clit again and again. The feeling is exquisite, and my
Speaker 1: orgasm rips through me. I scream a raw, unrestrained cry
Speaker 1: of victory and pleasure that's swallowed by the rustling leaves.
Speaker 1: I collapse onto him, my body trembling and spent. After
Speaker 1: a moment, I entangle myself in se stand, pulling my
Speaker 1: dress back down. I reach down and unbuckle his bell,
Speaker 1: freeing his hands. He lies there, dazed and smiling, looking
Speaker 1: up at me from the ground. Good game, I say,
Speaker 1: with a wicked smile. I turn and walk away, leaving
Speaker 1: him in the shadows of the willows. They say chess
Speaker 1: is a battle of wits. They never mention how good
Speaker 1: it feels to clean the spoils.