Australia: the third night with Vivian

Vivan had to work the first week or so I was in Australia.  Fortunately, as the days passed we managed to get her out the door in the morning a bit earlier, maybe not on time but at least not an hour late like the first morning.

The third day I got a text from Vivian while she was at work asking if I liked steak.  Um, I’m a red-blooded, American male, steak is the largest food group.  Closely followed by beer, of course.  She liked to cook and wanted to make dinner.

I offered to get the wine.  Anything with “New Zealand” and “Pinot Noir” on the label, I was told.  I got one bottle as she suggested, then found a Shiraz to show her one that I liked.

Being the helpful individual I am, I offered to help Vivian in the kitchen when she got home with a bag full of groceries.  Yeah, I got a big “No!” from her.  She is very possessive of the kitchen when she’s cooking, so I stood outside the imaginary divide and watched her work.

There’s something really unique about getting to watch a woman in her element.  Don’t take that as a chauvinistic, “get back in the kitchen” comment because that’s not how I mean it.  I mean, watching a woman doing something that she’s good at, she’s confident in, gives me a thrill.  I had the same reaction later when I got to watch her tying.  The determination, the strength in each movement, the focus in the eyes, it’s sexy.

She flitted around the kitchen making steaks, sweet potato, and vegetables while I watched and sipped at the wine.  Vivian was a little concerned that she over-cooked the steaks but they were delicious.  Both wines were good too.

We had a quiet night together, eating, drinking wine, and watching TV.  I think we watched a Myth Busters before the programming changed up.  There were only a couple available channels.  After Myth Busters was a program called Outback Truckers, kind of like ice road truckers but in the Australian wild.  It was a somewhat amusing show but I was paying far more attention to the woman sitting next to me on the couch.  We chatted, ate, drank and had a nice time.

We ate, cuddled, and chatted.  It was almost surprisingly comfortable and easy.  The conversation was smooth and fun, we had a good time just hanging out together.  It was really nice.

After TV and dinner we moved to her bedroom.

I have this fascination with pushing buttons.  When I found places she liked I’d keep playing with them until she made me stop.  There was something about pushing her until she couldn’t physically take any more that was a huge turn on.  You like this?  Okay, (insert maniacal laughter).

After a couple hours of fingers and tongue she stopped me, said she was too sensitive.  That made me laugh but I couldn’t help running my tongue up and down a few more times.  She shuttered and shook, then started threatening retribution towards my genitals.  I chuckled until I realized how serious she was, then stopped.

After all the playing, Vivian wanted a cigarette before bed.  I got up to go with her.  She put on a kimono, I put on some shorts.

On our way out, I asked her about the contraption in her bedroom.  It was a large wooden frame, kind of like a saw horse with pads on the top and a padded cross beam on either side.  I could see some possibilities but wanted to know it’s “official” purpose.  I’d been meaning to ask about it for a while but just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

(Similar bench I found with a Google image search)

Vivian promptly hopped up on it doggy style, her chest on the center, a leg up on either side.  It’s a spanking bench, she told me.

A spanking bench in her bedroom?  Vivian had some fun layers.

“Like this?” I asked, playfully slapping her on the ass.

She giggled at me, which I took as a sign that my attempt had been weak.

I took that as a challenge, I hauled back and spanked her again, harder.  She reacted to that a bit better.  I slid up her kimono and slapped her again.  It wasn’t like I needed any more encouragement to play with her nice, bare ass.  A few more slaps and her giggles turned to moans.  The moans were encouraging, which turned to more hits, which turned to more moans.

Slaps and moans turned into more fingering, after all I had excellent access in that position.

Yeah, so much for being too sensitive…  She wasn’t quiet on that bench.  Her kimono ended getting a little ripped too, though she didn’t seem to mind too much.

After a quick cigarette we went back to bed.  The next day was Christmas eve.

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