The ribbon

I had the ribbon in my hand before he sat down. Dark silk, folded once, the same one we had agreed on months ago. Glasses on the side table. Camel sweater, bare feet on the sofa, the apartment quiet. I told Dean I wanted it on my eyes, tied so it would stay, not tight anywhere else. I wanted his voice more than I wanted to see him. He asked if I could breathe and talk with it on. I said yes, it never goes near my mouth. He nodded, took the silk, and waited for me to turn.

He tied it at the back of my head with a knot I could reach. I tested it. Dark, soft, no pull on my throat. I said his name so we both knew I still had a voice. He said I was lovely like this and that I did not have to perform. Then he undressed me from the sweater down, telling me each thing he liked as it appeared. The line of my shoulder. The way I lifted my hips to help him. The sound I made when his mouth closed on my nipple.

He knelt and licked my cunt until my legs shook, and every time I got close he eased away. I grabbed his hair. He let me. He said there, that is honest, and fucked two fingers into my cunt while his mouth stayed on my clit. I came with the ribbon damp at my temples, saying his name like a person who had forgotten she corrects people for a living.

He turned me, sat, and guided me into his lap. I sank my cunt onto his cock, facing the room I could not see. He talked the whole time, low, about how well I was taking his cock, about how proud he was that I had asked for the dark. I set the pace and fucked him there. When I needed his hands I said so and he gave them to me, one at my hip, one spread over my heart. I came again, slower, cunt fluttering around his cock, and he came in my cunt when I told him he could. After, he untied the knot himself, cupped my face, and would not speak until I had focused on him. The ribbon lay folded in my hand.