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Elle's Story	By : Cozygoma-lover Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3527 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of BBC SHERLOCK. It belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's estate, the BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I gain nothing from my story financially. I enjoyed writing it, hoping you will have pleasure reading it equall

Chapter List
- 18
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Now was as good a time as any. He was going to ask her a question that had been in the back of his mind since their first love making session in Kew. "Tell me something. Why do you like giving me blow jobs so much?" He leaned his head on his arm, looking towards her on his side, she was on her back facing the ceiling.
"Oh my goodness. That is a question. It is the sensation to me; knowing what it does to you; the personalisation of the act. I hope you like it?"
"Of course. You seem to like it whether I am erect or otherwise. Does it not seem a little bit of a waste of time when I'm flaccid to do it? Surely it's better when I'm already hard?"
"Maybe that's right for some but not me. I love the feeling as your body engorges with blood and becomes erect. If you are already hard, I have missed half the fun."
"Seriously? I imagined it was a pity type thing."
"God, no, on the contrary. When you are soft I can take so much more of you in my mouth and your personal shape is irrelevant. Feeling you go from soft to hard, feeling the blood pulse through you, it is very empowering. Once you are fully erect your body dictates the best position for me to be in when on you because of your natural angle to you, you know, 'which side Sir dresses on' etc. In some ways I prefer it soft. It is just, once you know there is even a possibility of receiving a blow job or once I start you don't tend to stay flaccid very long."
"True! What did you mean by the 'personalisation of the act'?"
"I suppose it is down to the trust you show me allowing me to take such a delicate and vulnerable part of you into my mouth, the original purpose of the latter being biting, chewing and eating raw meat. Think about that."
"I guess, but you would never hurt me by biting me there though, would you?"
"No. Definitely not on purpose but that is why there has to be that level of trust. Anyway, why do you like it?"
"I can feel the blood coursing through my veins in such a way I sense at no other time. During sex there is so much else happening that it is impossible to isolate that type of sensation."
"Do you like watching me do it?"
"Yes but it can defeat the object. When you start I always want you to take your time as, like you, I love the sensation, but when I watch you it gets me heated far quicker and I cannot change any of the chemical and emotional reactions you have caused. It is damn near impossible for me to come down from the heady heights after you have taken me close orally. It intrigued me why it was nicknamed a 'blow' job when it is obviously a sucking action. With you I have discovered the answer: it's my mind you blow. How do you manage sometimes to take me so deeply?"
"Again that is down to trust and me learning, practising with you, how to open my throat muscles, relax, and take you as deep as possible. I have only perfected that today. Thank you for not moving too radically. We will have to learn a technique so you can move properly while I take you like that."
"You do not appear to have a gag reflex."
"I do, I must do, but you have never triggered it. As I have got better at doing what you like, I have learned and trained myself to accept what and how you like it and that has given me chance, I guess, to control that reflex."
"Finally, here's an awkward one. Do you like the taste of me?"
"Not particularly. It is very salty, but again, it is the pleasure of the sensation, and the significance of what must have transpired to cause me to taste it that outweighs the actual taste itself. Also I love to feel you come in my mouth. Have you ever tasted it?"
"God, no. How? I mean, how could I?"
"One time I take you all the way orally I think you ought to - so you know. I will transfer some to you. You said earlier that I ejaculated. Did you taste that?"
"No, it was more to do with sensation again, rather than taste. I did not notice anything beyond what I was already tasting from you, but I felt it against my tongue and mouth. I suppose, for all we know, you could ejaculate like that all the time but during sex it may not have been noticed, with everything else we are doing. I thought that maybe it would be something you would have been aware of."
"Not at all. As I said I thought it was a myth. Perhaps you ought to ask John if he knows the mechanics of it and, more importantly, the point. I know I don't need it for lubrication as that is sorted elsewhere, unless it stems from the same place. Seems too late for that purpose though as, in normal sex, the lubrication and swelling of female internal surfaces is required at the beginning, not the end. When I was tied up that was the first time I have had such a powerful orgasm like that without you inside me so I am no wiser than you. Maybe it is just a triggered pleasure-fulfilled, no-use-really release."
"Amazing, all the same."
"Do you like the taste of me?"
"Yes. It is not unpleasant or salty. It does not appear to have an obvious flavour, though weirdly metallic, but just has a creamy, slippery consistency, a perfect lubrication as you said. I love having my tongue inside you and like the jolts of your body when I concentrate on your clitoris. That appears to send you wild."
"It does. It is very sensitive and craves your stimulus. One touch and you can send me into rapture. It also makes the internal part of me want you all the more. I love it when your fingers or tongue concentrate on it, but I lose control very quickly."
"I love to feel you lose control, at my doing Elle. Here." He pulled her up off the bed and the two large towels fell away, abandoned in the middle of the floor. Sherlock led Elle to the wall of the bedroom. Leaning her against it he started kissing her neck, running his hands softly but haphazardly over her. Lifting her arms above her head he held both wrists in his left hand, aping their first shower sexual encounter at Kew on that wonderful, glorious day. Gently fondling her breasts and tummy with his right hand he aligned his erection and then entered her yet again.
For the first time really demonstrating and using his height and superior strength he man-handled her into a position where he could use his legs to push himself further inside her, whilst keeping a steady and passionate pressure on her lips from his. His moves were rhythmical and caressive, though she was in no doubt who was dictating the play. She feigned an attempt to escape his clutches, knowing he would tighten his grip and ultimately press more deeply into her. Clever girl!
He wanted this to be vertical love making, passionate and erotic, but she wanted pain from him and finally received it as his body was so rigid and hard as he straightened his legs her feet momentarily left the ground, his grip on her wrists and his phallus lifting her, suspended in mid-air, pinned against the wall. Nothing else supporting her.
The sensation was brief but too electrifying for her to ignore, and she climaxed swiftly as she realised she could feel the pleasure/pain barrier dissolve, and as her heartbeat raced faster than she had ever known during love making, she cried out loudly as she felt the fullness of him within her. He bent his knees again so her feet found carpet, her body contorted. Using his right arm he lifted her left leg around him, then released her wrists, taking the weight of her right leg as she lifted that over his left hip and he walked back over to the bed, lowering her on to the springs, staying within and on top of her. She ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him over and over again, he now forcibly concluding this latest entanglement horizontally.
Tightening her legs around his thighs she rammed her pelvis against his, squeezing her internal muscles, wringing the seed out of him. Their bodies were both heated and convulsing together as they finally began to release the compounding pressure on one another. Sherlock rolled, too breathless to speak, off of her and sighed.
Closing his eyes with a soft smile on his lips he went into short but dreamless sleep. Elle positioned herself close to him, not touching but leaning on her side just watching him sleep, reliving some of the moments they had shared together today for her birthday.
It had not been her intention to sleep at all but she must have drifted off, waking about forty minutes later to find herself being touched by little soft kisses across her throat, décolleté and breasts. She stirred and stretched. At her movement Sherlock had decided on a more directed strategy. He was on his side, she now on her back. He started kissing her face; her nose, her ears, her eyes, anywhere but her lips. As he passed over her, she tried to capture his lips with hers but he was avoiding them purposefully and now she knew it.
As now she was fully awake from her own stupor, he was willing to move this action on. Across her neck his kisses persisted, travelling gradually down her body. His attention as always lingered around her breasts. He loved the sensation of her soft round skin on his lips or in his mouth. He twirled one of her nipples between his tongue and upper lip, then suckled on her. Momentarily he moved his mouth from her nipple on the inner most part of her left breast, kissed her then sucked hard, holding some of the flesh in his teeth: a love bite returned. Still unobtrusive but less hidden than his which she knew only she would ever see.
He continued his voyage. His tongue fell into her navel then out tracing the scar he had grown to love as it pointed a path to her pubis. Her breathing had become more and more shallow, intensely aware of his intentions, longing for him to reach his final destination. But surprisingly he changed tack.
Suddenly his eyes were level with hers. There was a glint of disappointment on her face until she felt him insert a long middle finger inside her. Now he pressed his lips to hers, now he pressed his advantage. His finger was in constant motion after he slipped it inside her. Circulating, touching her inner walls, then withdrawing and dancing around her clitoris. As his finger re-entered the index joined the middle, doubling her pleasure, his long thumb grazing her clitoris, he moving it fractionally with the deftest of touches. She was moving herself now, adjusting his angle to get his fingers 'just so'. The kisses were becoming more passionate; she took his lower lip between her teeth, then kissed him openly again, pushing her pelvis into the bed. Orgasm beset her. He could feel her muscles compressing his digits as his continual movement exacerbated the proceedings.
Again she found herself craning her neck to kiss him. Sherlock made a decision. He took all his weight on his feet and one arm, and as he bent at the elbow to lower his mouth and his tongue fully into hers he withdrew his fingers, aligned his body and pushed himself inside her. Elle contorted again, this time with pleasure. This was ecstasy. Once again their bodies were one. She felt so receptive and damp to his attentions. What a day! And still over four hours to play. Each session was much shorter now, understandably, but the intensity level was never any less. Another orgasm shared and he slowed off his pace, hanging his head, his weight on his arms, a look of ecstatic fulfilment carved on the face of the woman beneath him.
Sherlock's phone suddenly made a PING sound. She had nearly forgotten the outside world existed today. He picked up the phone and withdrew from both her and the bed. He threw on his robe, wiped his hands on one of the towels and she heard him descend the stairs, talk, laugh, then return slightly slower. "Dinner's arrived" he called. She moved something to her side of the bed, pulled on her robe and joined him in the kitchen where she saw two thermal-lined bags she knew did not live there. A container of crab, spinach and tomato linguini was lifted out of one. "Your final birthday gifts, from Angelo" he explained.
"Wonderful. Oh, how lovely. Gosh Sherlock, I had not realised how hungry I was becoming. How and when?" She sat down at the table.
"I planned for something from Angelo. He said anything, it would be delivered, just let him know when we were ready. I texted him just after we rinsed down earlier, giving him the hour and a half's notice he requested before we wanted it, so he could make it personally. Angelo even dropped it to the door. No idea what is in the other bag. 'A dessert' was his only clue. It is chilled anyway."
Whilst talking he had dried a couple of bowls, which she realised must have been sitting in boiling water in the sink, so slightly warmed, and dished up the pasta, getting two forks and spoons and setting it down on the table. "Would you like some wine?" he asked, pouring a glass of white.
"No thank you." Elle rose, went to the fridge and poured chilled bottled water into the second wine glass on the table. She kissed the top of Sherlock's head as she walked passed him around the table to sit and eat. "Perfect." The pair clinked glasses and ate. The bowls were returned to the sink around twenty minutes later, totally cleared. Elle opened the other bag and withdrew two glass ramekins containing chocolate hazelnut mousses, doused in hazelnut liqueur, and a deep red rose. "Ah, bless him."
She took the rose and squeezed it into the beautiful flower arrangement received from Mycroft, which had been moved to one end of the table, so it's stem reached the water. The mousse was divine: strong in both chocolate and hazelnut flavours and just enough to finish the meal.
"Lovely" Sherlock said, expressing the sentiments of them both as he drained his glass, Elle nodding in agreement. "Right. Seconds out, round... whatever we are on." He smiled. "Any idea?"
"Yes" she responded quickly. He was expecting her to say how many sexual assignations they had had throughout the day but as her eyes dilated she said "Take me Sherlock, make love to me here, on the kitchen table."
Pots, glasses and the bouquet were moved quickly to the draining board as Sherlock helped Elle climb on the table, then entered her immediately. This was raw, tempestuous, brutish even. Perhaps it felt dirty to Sherlock, knowing he would never look at the table or kitchen in quite the same way again, but he was so pumped, and vocal, enjoying the illicitness of such a sexual experience in such a mundane day-to-day place. Orgasm intensity easily equalled any that had gone before between them during the day's extraordinary events, but the pleasure was short-lived. Practicalities and position meant they could not stay together long after reaching the zenith of stimulation yet again.
Sherlock helped Elle off the table and led her by the hand, taking her back into the bedroom, via the bathroom for a quick teeth brushing and cooling splash of water to their faces. Time was running out on this wondrous day. An hour and a half and it would be May, and Elle would have 364 days to wait for her birthday again. The lovers cuddled up to one another. "What a beautiful meal. Thank you Sherlock."
"Don't thank me, we need to thank Angelo. I planted the idea with him but he came up with the menu and, of course, refused to let me pay him for any of it."
"Then I will pay him with a kiss at least, next time we go in. We will need to go soon to return the thermal bags and ramekins. I loved the third course. I don't think I need to thank Angelo for that." For the longest time the lovers talked, just touching or stroking one another, delicately, non-sexually, instinctively. After about forty-five minutes, Elle's eyes closed as she snuggled into his neck and whispered "Feel ready and willing to take this day home?"
"Willing, yes, of course. Ready? I am not so sure about." Sherlock's facial expression was half apologetic though his eyes were wide and responsive, mouth smiling.
"In that case I may have just what you need." She reached over the side of the bed, lifted her hand and, spinning around her index finger slowly was one of the cock rings. Sherlock laughed unconvincingly, but his eyes had dilated again, his brow furrowed with intrigue. Smiling, raising her left eyebrow at him, Elle put the cock ring between her teeth and headed back down the bed, taking him into her mouth and sliding the ring to the root of his shaft. As she lifted her head slightly to concentrate her tongue around his rim, foreskin and head, sucking hard, Sherlock heard a low buzzing sound and gasped loudly as the new vibrator touched his skin, just above the synthetic ring.
His body contracted so violently he folded away from her, grabbed her wrist, pulled her up the bed and planted his mouth on hers. A long salubrious kiss later and he extracted the vibrator from her hand. His lips separated from hers and he said to her very slowly. "OK Elle. Tell me exactly what you want me to do with this."
"Here, let me show you." Taking his hand she steered him to her labia, stroking the folds before placing the very tip of the vibrator against her clitoris. Her body spasmed too, but whereas it seemed too intense for him and he had revolted away, she involuntarily moved and adjusted her position until the placement was pin-point accurate. Sighing and moaning, manoeuvring her body for the ultimate pleasure, she succumbed very quickly to this direct stimulation and an undeniably powerful orgasm. She was now fidgeting her frame to try to get further stimulation by him with the vibrator, but he refused to comply.
He put his feet between hers, pushed her legs apart and knelt over her. Turning the vibrator off and dropping it to the floor, he kissed her again and put himself back inside her. The kiss released and they looked at each other both smiling as they simultaneously felt the cock ring between them. "Ooo" she sighed. "I love that."
Gentle and erotic movements saw the lovers gorging themselves once again together, their pleasures of each other fulfilled. As their temperatures rose, muscles tensed, and his climax coincided with her third, they wrenched their loins with an instance that was both sensual and resolute. Sherlock had wanted to give her a full day of love making and that was precisely what they had: as he turned off the bedside lamp the last thing he noticed, the time of 00:18 on his mobile phone as he fell asleep, still within her.
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