My Heart Belongs To...: A Novel of Age Play

by R. Greco

  “Didn’t you just have a whole long weekend off in New Jersey?” Jack said smiling as he returned to the breakfast nook-like table where I had pulled a stool out from. He placed a steaming mug of his gourmet shit coffee down before me and I instantly thought of that scene in “Pulp Fiction” where everyone is commenting on ‘Jimmy’s’ “real gourmet shit” coffee. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t been to the movies in months; I worked too damn much or was acting like a little girl too often. A lady needs to get out, I screamed at myself as I fixed the coffee before me and Jack took his own mug and sat across from me.

  “You know me, I come and go as I please,” I said after a tentative temperature taste, “besides, Jersey was for work.”

  “Which turned into play.”

  “Well yeah, true,” I said and took another sip.

  “Anything new on that front?

  What did I tell this guy about my dressing up two nights ago and texting Jon until he cut me off? I was damn sure that what I had told Jack at the bar last week and what had got us together had been enough for the guy to be rethinking what he knew about me, last thing I really wanted to do was bring him into my madness any deeper.

  Still I was here.

  “I see those wheels turning.”

  “They are, they are,” I said, not sure if he meant he sensed me thinking about Jon and my submissiveness, or me thinking about our night of sex.

  I decided if I addressed us I might be able to thwart any awkwardness that might ever arise because of what we did and at the same time give myself more cop-a-feel squishiness.

  “You know that was pretty hot last week, right?”

  “Well, I thought so, but since we hadn’t spoken since, I thought it might have been just a little weird, ya know. Too close to home and shit?”

  “Well yeah, I mean there’s no denying that...” I said reaching my hand out to cover his,”…you know I adore you, always have.”

  He smiled deep at this.

  “And you have a magnificent cock, if truth be told.”

  He smiled wider and attempted to lift his mug with his free hand.

  “And the sex was damn good; as good as I always kinda thought it might be.”

  “For me to,” Jack said, putting his mug down yet again, “there’s a ‘but’ coming here right?”

  “Not really,” I said taking my hand off his and sitting back.

  “I just think it might get weird, or weirder if we did that again, not that I don’t want to.”

  “Yeah, I hate to admit that, in fact I’m not admitting it, ok…” and here he stopped and we both laughed “…but I think you’re right.”

  “Still you make me hot babe,” I said, leaned my tits across his table and kissed his cheek.

  Jack reached out and pulled me closer by my arm and then we were lip-locked. Just the right amount of time and tongue, then we split and sat back and sipped again.

  I had both made my point and tickled my itch.

  * * * *

  Fred, Joel and I met for dinner. The logistics of us pulling another usual rendezvous as close to such a recent one was an impossibility, but us meeting for a quick bite at this pizza place we all knew, liked and served probably the best lasagna for miles was doable and doing right then.

  “I think I can count on my one hand the times we’ve done something like this.”

  “For me not to have a boner around you; is very weird,” Fred added, looking across the table at me.

  “Yeah, amazing shit still do a ‘happen, huh?” I quipped sipping my wine.

  As I have mentioned, these two guys and I could enjoy a good bottle of wine and living ‘up here’ as we did bred some pretty virulent wine snobs, though I didn’t think of any of us as having such erudite tastes; Ben Wa balls or a good old- fashioned rabbit vibrator, I was down for whatever. Jon was certainly sexy but not a Fortune 500 kind-of-a-guy and while Joel and Fred here (especially Fred) dressed, spoke and ate well, we were all just normal folk really, maybe a bit isolated in our little village/town/almost city, but polite enough and always searching for connections like I had with these two.

  Fred chattered on as the lasagna was served and I listened with one ear as I eased into another wet panty hour. He was an interesting guy our Fred, Joel was enraptured, probably just as much by the thought that we were out and about on a ‘regular’ night then by what his secret sometime partner was on about. I liked their company, even if I was only half listening then. This was all very good for me, to be with them and Jack earlier. I felt connected, out and about, and alighted with what I knew my pussy was on about and my second night not yet hearing from my man.

  Things was; Jon wasn’t my man, any more that Joel and Fred sitting across from me would ever want to be or Jack could manage. I was that new breed of women, mid thirties and holding (so ‘mid’ I’d be thirty nine in a month), having been to bat once with the marriage thang and not soon going back. I had more sexual experience then most playing-for-the-same team way back in my late teens and twenties but I was just as sure not really going back there (a dalliance or two aside) as I was really all about the cock these days. So I didn’t need nor define myself by what I had or didn’t have with a man in my life. Sure, I was happy to be the mistress of these two attractive bi guys sitting across from me, I had been more then happy to thrust up on Jack’s hard tool and get off because of it and God knew if I got the chance to suck Jon’s cock again I was going to drain every drop I could, but for the most part here I was one happy solo chick and loving every minute of being so. I had thought breaking-up with Paul was going to slice me to the bone, but if anything I was healthier now, feeling better about myself then I had felt in years.

  This was probably why I wasn’t as nervous about Jon not calling as I was excited. I knew his silence was nothing more than a game, how could it be anything else, really? Somewhere along the line I had gotten a pretty healthy dose of my self-worth and knew, beyond a reasonable shadow of a doubt, that I was one heck of a girl. I was a great cook, near gourmet-chef level; I worked a job with seven people under me, had some truly tight friends and despite some extra weight I wasn’t overly thrilled with, knew I was damn sexy. Having a killer male specimen like Jon take to me so fast was truly gratifying to my ego, but nothing less then I thought I deserved deep deep down. It wasn’t that I walked around coddling the conceit I saw women ten years younger than me carry around with their cell phones and permanent impress-me-pouts, I just knew and liked who I was. Sure this realization had come at a price, nobody gets to such confident freedom without some time spent in the minor leagues struggling a few times up at bat, but there was no way I could have delved into that little-girl-needs-her-master stuff I did with Jon or would have even considered it (ok, to be truthful I always considered submissiveness, spanking and age-play) if I didn’t feel as good about myself as I did.

  Thought I hadn’t wanted him to Fred insisted on paying and as we stood in the parking lot talking under a very pale early evening sky I gave the guys a jolt by ordering Joel to suck Fred off in Fred’s aptly named Hummer, while I sat in the backseat, watched and tried not to touch my pulsating pussy.

  Driving home my cell rang.

  5.

  “How does it feel?”

  “I feel good, you?”

  “You know what I mean Kay.”

  “I feel good.”

  “Wanna play huh?”

  “What do you want me to say? My pussy has been going crazy, and I have been dying for you to call.”

  “Really?”

  “Jon, come on…”

  “Ok, Ok. Actually I got real busy yesterday with the that account Bob was hoping to get and by the time I got off the computer is was like seven and I knew you’d still be at work, then I ate and then I got busy again with Bob and before I kne…”

  “Likely story,” I snickered.

  “Well, it all worked,” he chuckled himself, “we both know you loved it.”

  “Well, yeah, yeah I ki
nda did,” I admitted, “but I have been really wet.”

  “Did you masturbate?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “More exiting not to,” I said as I steered up my street.

  “Maybe I should have waited a couple more days.”

  “Well, I’m really glad you called.”

  “But?”

  “Huh?”

  “I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”

  “Maybe I just like the fact that I haven’t come?”

  “That’s a dangerous road to go down.”

  I laughed aloud just about as I pulled into my driveway.

  The pizza place was close to my house but I had never driven faster in my life to get home.

  “We’ve skirted around the orgasm denial thing, but if you’re down for that…”

  “Haven’t I been down for everything so far?”

  “I just mean, this might really complete your education in a way we never really thought of.”

  “Yes daddy,” I moaned as I shut off the ignition and barely managed to get out of the car and through my front door.

  “You know as well as I do that little girls can’t keep themselves from touching,” Jon teased me as I flopped myself on my couch without even turning on the lights. Thank God for Bluetooths, I thought as I spread my legs and began to work both hands down my crotch.

  “Daddeeee,” I cried as I brought myself up to the precipice just humping my hands through my jeans.

  To say I was ready would be an understatement. To say Jon knew this would be belaboring the obvious.

  “Honey, we can get into this, but you have to promise when I say stop you have to stop.”

  “Oh daddy, daddeeeee.”

  I was sitting up then, working the heels of both hands across myself. I was about a minute from coming at most.

  “You need to stop when you’re just about there.”

  I was just about there, but I wasn’t sure I could stop.

  “Kay?”

  “Daddy, please, daddy,” I said in such a good little girl voice I knew Jon could just about see me pouting.

  “Kay,” he said sterner and that tone in his voice made me freeze.

  I somehow managed my hands to my sides.

  “Fuck, fuck,” I sighed, part adult/part little Kay.

  “I’m telling you, you want to go down this road, it’s gonna cost you. I might not let you come for a very long time.”

  “Jesus,” I said literally shaking then. I was fucking the air, looking down at myself lifting off the couch like some wild thing, like some errant school girl who first learns how good this feels. Like some out-of-control cunt who needs to learn how to control her cunt. I was about as crazed as Jon had yet made me, in person or over the phone and God knew I wanted to come, many times, hard, splashing and crying out for my daddy the entire time. But I also was building this kernel of kink, this idea that, if I let Jon really go ahead with this, if I allowed what we both knew I was going to allow, that denying me orgasms might very well control me, make me his little girl, solidify my submission in an altogether different way.

  I was ready, scared, but ready.

  “Do it,” I said lying back then, “do it, make my pussy burn. Make me suffer. Make it really bad.”

  “Ok, then,” and I heard Jon inhale deep and the unmistakable sound of him pulling down his zipper.

  I suddenly realized this was the very first time I actually knew he was about to or was touching himself. The times before, I had been so wrapped up in submitting, Jon had been so good to me, so selfless and so precise I never really considered what he did, if anything, when we talked. His voice did get wavy at times and I heard him pause enough to know that he was probably stroking while making me spank myself or as I moaned a few unprovoked ‘Daddy’s”, still we never addressed him coming when we managed a phone-r, let alone him masturbating.

  When we had been together, Jon had been pretty much harder than a rock the entire time, and God knows I had a crush on his beautiful cock, but in the giving-as-good-as-you-get department I was far and ahead the winner. It wasn’t as if Jon’s dominance of me would take the form of him forcing me on all fours to take his cock in my mouth and then splash in my face (Jon knew cocking sucking and bukkake were some of “my favorite things” as Julie Andrew sings).

  No, forcing me to take his cock in any orifice would not really be the mark of submission as Jon knew.

  But submitting to orgasm denial? If I needed no other proof that this new wrinkle might work for us both, the simple fact that Jon was unzipping his pants right then was a good sign we might be on the right road, though a dangerous one he was assuring me.

  “You need to get completely naked, but you also need to know I am not letting you come tonight,” Jon began, a noticeable shift in his voice.

  Something deeper had crept in, whether from him now holding his dick or us beginning the descent into this new game, I had no idea, but this tremor in his speech was making me crazy. Jon had a wide variety of color tones to his speech, teasing, firm, this, whatever-is-was; they all turned me on.

  “Ok, ok,” I said standing and stripped down. It suddenly dawned on me how much a product of the modern world I was, standing in my living room bare-assed naked save a Bluetooth bud in my ear!

  “Naked?”

  “Yes, you?”

  What the fuck, I thought. Before he got me to the point where all I was saying was in little-girl double-Dutch speak I figured I’d get a good clear picture if he had his cock out.

  “My pants are off and I have my undies pulled down just under my balls.”

  Good Christ what a visual, I thought as I began to knead my breasts there in my quiet dark living room.

  “Is it…” I began in my regular voice, but was so fucking wet I quickly switched to my decidedly younger tone to finish with, “…hard daddy?”

  “Raging, like the first time you had it in your mouth, do you remember that?”

  “Mmm, hmmm,” I managed and tickled my right hand down my belly and into my landing-strip.

  “Are you touching?”

  “Yes,” I pouted, found my clit with my index finger and pushed at it hard.

  “You know you can’t come, right?”

  “Yes sir, I know.”

  “You know that no matter how good that feels, sooner or later you’re gonna have to stop, right?”

  “Daddy…”

  “Fuck Kay, I hear that sound of suffering in your voice, I’m about to explode.”

  “It’s not fair if you get to come and I don’t.”

  “You’re right, it’s not fair, but this is what you want. You want to be denied, you want to suffer, I think you said, ‘make your pussy burn’, right?”

  “Yes, daddy, yesssssssss.”

  “God I really, I’m gonna come.”

  “Oh daddy,” I said through another good pout.

  “Little girls are not supposed to come, right?” Jon said through a sigh. I knew he was getting close. I stabbed myself with my index finger as far up me as I could manage, grabbed my right tit hard.

  “No daddy,” I said.

  Jesus, I might have wanted this tease but I was really leaking. My pussy was all but eating my finger, my tit was hot and my clit was all but springy and fat.

  “I think we might have found a new catch-phrase.”

  Shit, were we back to that?

  “Maybe if you say it I might let you come.”

  “Oh God, Jon Jon!” I said, losing all of my little girl composure. I squatted and fed two fingers deep up into myself, took my other hand off my breast to hold the one in my pussy. I began fucking my fingers and moaning loud.

  “Now now,” Jon said but I could hear the clutch in his throat to, he was as close as I was.

  “I need you to say it to me baby,” he cooed, “come on my little girl, come on.”

  Jesus, Jon had never cooed and coaxed me this way before. I really was about to come.

  “Say
sweetie and I’ll let you release.”

  So much for orgasm denial, but what did I fucking care? He had denied me two days; we could get more into it later.

  “Little girls…” I began, biting my lower lips, humping down hard into my hand.

  “Are not supposed to…?”

  “Are not supposed to, ca ca ca...”

  I felt a little shallow pop come from my puss-puss, if Jon found out about that bubble of a come I didn’t think he’d be too mad, I knew. A deep explosive squirt-er was but thirty seconds off at the most.

  “All together for daddy,” Jon said and hearing him call himself daddy, knowing he also was right on the precipice, shit I stood up tall, held everything exactly in place and said in my quivering young young lilt:

  “Little girls are no supposed to come.”

  “Saa, stop!” Jon sighed.

  “Little girls…”I began to repeat even louder as I squat again and felt the roil of orgasm coming.

  “Take your hands away,” Jon sighed again.

  Had he come? I nearly asked him.

  “Take…them…away!”

  That fucking tone tore at me to stop and keep touching, all at the same time. Somehow I managed to literally piss my hands out of my drippy self and stood on tip toes catching my breath. I wasn’t so far gone not to realize that this had been Jon’s plan all along, to tease me with the promise of coming if I gave him exactly what he wanted, but really never having an intention of rescinding on our no come rule. It was devilish and what I wanted anyway, even though my pussy now ached, really ached.