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This is Part Two of a response to Wanting You by insanewaffles.
*
It was not what she'd expected. Not at all. But surprises can be good, right? She fought the urge to just drop the whole thing, count up the cons vs. pros, chalk it up to weird impulse or whatever. In her mind she almost saw the itemized list against it: he was older, older than she thought could even gain her interest. She had no idea what he even looked like, where he lived, what he did. Okay, well, she did kind of know what he did. He made her feel all hot and bothered. He made her feel desired, even hungered for. So there was that. And that was such a good thing after all the false starts, the disastrous "hanging out", the potential "hookings up" and all the other travesties of the love life scene.
From that uncontrollable moment when she wrote out her desires in an erotic story slash confession and posted it and received his email about it -- her world had shifted a bit crazily. Now she teetered on the brink of something entirely new for her. Or was it so new really?
Certainly, she'd had mental images playing. Fantasies, odd flickerings that sent her emotions and hormones galloping along the shore of -- what? Some place deep and sensual and wild and yet, too, firmly in his control. She got that. Safe and yet passionately sexy. How could that be? How could someone wreak that kind of sexual havoc and yet still make her feel secure and safe? It didn't make sense, her mind told her. Her erect nipples, the faster beating of her pulse, the inescapable growing moistness of her pussy told her differently. She was falling down the rabbit hole, but she wasn't afraid.
Her own two-fold nature actually felt accepted. Okay, that was sort of new. No analysis, no sideways glance, no debate, just pure, honest acceptance. She was bi-sexual. She sometimes felt dominant, sometimes submissive. Could that even work in the world? Weren't you one or the other? But that felt so limited. And what was weirder still, he didn't seem to think any of it was a big deal. Reading between the lines çeşme escort of his email -- mostly the what he didn't say -- she knew he would be okay with the thought of her lips and tongue gliding up and down another woman's pussy as well as doing the same slow, smooth, teasing slide of tongue up and down his hard cock shaft. Nibbling and tongue-circling another woman's clit or the swollen head of his cock. Even -- and this shocked her sensibilities not a little -- kneeling at his feet, submissively, her cheek resting against his thigh, gazing at his lovely cock, while her own more submissive female companion gently stroked fingertips along her trembling pussy lips.
She shook her head slightly and tried to calm her breathing down. Dominant man, submissive her, dominant her, submissive other woman. She tried to assemble the geometry of it; a sensual naked triangle without jealousy or competition or...well, any kind of disruption. It wasn't what she'd expected, but it seemed do-able. Really do-able.
She knows she's getting way ahead of herself. Basing too much on what she desired and not enough on -- what? -- reality? What the hell was reality anyway? Didn't you make your own realities? She knew that was how it worked. The old times, the old ways of separation, of just doing things one way or not at all -- those had played out with not so good results. So, why not try something different? Why not just go with whatever flow he seemed to direct? He did seem to know what she really wanted and he was good with it, so why fight it with her silly guilt and worries? She knows they will pass and fade if she just lets him...do his thing, work his magic on her, and let her do her own thing, too.
She read over his last email again, nodding at every sentence with affirmation. I can do this, she thought. I really can...
"You will call me Sir," he wrote. "It will be a sign that you respect me and accept what is between us. I will try to explain -- though it really needs no words -- what is between us. You want to feel üçyol escort both desired and secure without all the unnecessary 'baggage' of explanations and questions and accusations. You want to feel a strong man's hand upon you, on your skin, in your hair; you want to feel his strength guiding you and his sometime tenderness caressing you, but as a knowing man does, not a doubting boy, not a pain-inflicting brute, not a man seeking elsewhere for his next conquest. You want to feel that you are his conquest and his pleasure in taking you as he pleases when he pleases."
Yeah, she thought. I know I do. "But you are not a doormat," he continued. "Not something to be trampled and forgotten. Used, yes. Used as a sensual lover, as an object and person to satisfy sexual and sensual hungers, sometimes. Physically tied sometimes, at other times merely bound by your own surrendering hungers to be taken. And, in your own dominant self, doing that to another. To your own submissive one, as you choose."
She shifted in her chair, okay, really it was more squirming, as her body grew warmer and more restless. Could she see herself in her mind, doing that with another woman? Tying her down, thighs spread, the perfume of her desires rising from her pussy, her breasts rising and falling erratically, her eyes half-closed in eager surrender? Whispering to her submissive lover "I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever thought possible"? She could almost feel the warmth of the other woman's skin as her tongue slightly protruded and flicked upward, imagining the woman's gasping breath as she teased her clit. Suddenly, she mentally felt his presence behind her, the thick head of his cock probing into her own wet slit. Fucking her as she licked the other woman, his hands tangling in her hair and pulling sharply with every thrust of his shaft deep inside her. Oh, hell, she thought, would it be like that? Could it be? Her shoulders trembled and she swallowed hard. The words of his email swimming before her glazing eyes. Was she reading manisa escort too much between the lines or...was he really intimating how it might be...with what they shared between them?
Her reply had asked him for inspiration and guidance. Wow, was she inspired! So inspired that when she drew her thighs together now at her desk she felt how wet she had suddenly become. What kind of guidance did she really desire though? For him to say: "Do this, don't do that, do this for me, kneel for me, kiss the head of my cock for me, desire me, cum for me"? Did she want him to tell her to imagine his hand holding her face and telling her -- naked and trembling -- "Climb me." Did she want the guidance that he would look her deeply in the eyes and whisper "Show me your hunger. Give it to me."
She would. Freed by his command, she would slide up his body, feeling every inch of his hardness along her skin, her breasts, her belly. She would devour his lips, nibble sharply on his earlobes, lick wetly down his neck, and reach behind her to grasp his hard shaft, position the head at her slit and plunge it inside her. She would ride him with his permission. Feel his forefinger pressed hard against her clit, rolling it, swirling endless circles as she rose and fell on his cock. She would thrash her hips, showing him, giving him her all because...she wanted to and knew he wanted her to.
It was not what she expected being dominated to be. Not what she thought of when she thought of being submissive. It was all that and something far more. But it didn't scare her, she noticed, a little surprised at her own reaction. It comforted her and made her feel even more sexy and sexed than she had ever felt before.
As in her mind, she heard his growls and moans, heard him manfully whisper "Cum for me, cum on me," her thoughts reeled; brain filling with images she'd only seen in a few porn pictures except now she was the woman in them -- a leather collar encircling her neck, a chain leash leading back to his hand, his powerful smile as she gazed up at him, his cock filling her mouth. A world opened into her mind she had barely -- okay, not even -- imagined herself a part of before. She took a deep breath, her own smile widening across her lips.
"I will cum for you, Sir," she typed. "I will give you my gift and my pleasure. And, if it please you, Sir, will you cum for me?"