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

by R. Greco

  I watched, listened and re-read scissoring my thick thighs, in effect trying to cause a bellows with the undulant fold of my robe to cool my steaming pussy. This was all a perfect test and one I wasn’t sure I could pass, but one I had welcomed all the same. I am nothing if not a girl who loves to live on a precipice and here I was edging (I loved that word), as the world spun highly stimulated around me (fucking Joel really could suck!) as I shot off an email to Jon about wanting to be his toy.

  I’m not sure I would have used that word really had I not been so over stimulated and in the midst of my various friends’ coming, but I was breaking off crystalline points from my hide as I sat there and suffered so much my stomach hurt and my nipples itched in a way they had never itched before. I needed to offer Jon something I had yet to, and God knew I had offered him a lot, but by using the word ‘toy’, offering myself up as not just his little girl, his slave, his sub, but as a thing, an object to be used without any regard I was giving all of myself. I really did want to, the edging was making me think of my cunt – and I never even used that word really – my asshole, my tits, my mouth, all of my lit-up skin as pieces, parts of the whole of me that was a thing, a toy, a plaything to be used and abused, left then picked-up at a later date.

  I ached deeply to be Jon’s toy.

  Had I related this to Terri, Joel and Fred, Jack, they probably would have understood to a lesser or greater degree and maybe they would have all gotten off on the idea. To all of them I always appeared to be the dominant, in charge woman. Even with what Jack knew about my playing with Jon, I sensed my best friend felt it had come down in some way where I had manipulated the situation to get exactly what I had wanted. In a way I guess this could be seen to be the case and I often wondered how much I really angled and succumbed in exactly the right manner to get Jon to make me angle and succumb. But even though I was shooting over an email, I was offering to be Jon’s ‘toy’, I knew Jon had brought me to this, to all of it.

  Hasbro or Tonka? Was the email reply I received not three minutes later.

  It was just like Jon to go all retro on my ass.

  2

  “No Tuesday night shopping, you don’t text me but once all week and you almost didn’t get out tonight. what gives, babycakes?” Lisa asked sipping her Manhattan.

  Before she had flicked on her rabbit Terri had mentioned dinner at Sansho and here we all were dressed up like big girls doing the civilized Saturday night sushi thang. I hadn’t made any mention to Terri about what had happened that morning between us – she had come over the phone with me just about as I sent Jon a reply to his Hasbro/Tonka quip – and as I sat across from Lisa (Terrie and the rest of the girls had sauntered off to the bathroom for a minute) I was finally calming down from Jon and my late morning exchange. I couldn’t rightly explain to my best friend here about the orgasm lock-down I had been on for the past week, what had happened just that morning between Terri and me (and that recent night at my house when I bade her show me her ass), why the entire week I had kept pretty much locked-up in the house as Lisa was accusing or how now that I had been released from it all I was nearly on a new plane of existence with what the future held.

  I couldn’t even begin to explain to Lisa that Jon and I had turned a corner this day and I was now not just his little girl but also his toy.

  I had been more or less putty in my New Jersey man’s hand since the minute I met him, and that had first been not even in person but over chat. I had progressed to let Jon take my body in any number of ways when we met, least of which was to spank me good and hard and have me love it more then I could have ever imagined. Then I had succumbed to Jon’s naughty idea of being his little girl, of acting and talking like a teenager for him, something I had never done in all my years of rather kinky practices. When I returned home, a suitcase full of perverse sexual memories to last me a good long masturbatory time, the handsome man continued to tease and taunt me, making me spank myself for his delight … something else I never dreamed of doing.

  I had sex with my best friend and seduced another because of him, dressed for him and sent pictures, continued to talk my talk and walk the walk of a truly submissive plaything ever since leaving the east coast. Somewhere in that heady mix that was our bio-coastal intrigue Jon got me to come without touching myself – fucking necromancer that he was – now I was offering what I felt was the only logical progression to the sweet mess we had created ... to be Jon’s thing, his possession, his toy. I convinced him it felt like the next logical, albeit scary step and he agreed during the tenth email back and forth (as with all things with Jon he needed to know my further submission was something I was ready for, not just the ramblings of a highly sexual California girl on a Saturday morning who hasn’t felt her puss-puss squirt in a week). A whole new level of arousal took me getting him to agree to let me be his toy and if I had been aching deep down below before I was unhinged when Jon finally wrote:

  Ok, from here on in, you are my toy to do whatever I want with and you have absolutely no say in the matter.

  Jon called me after sending that email and I had picked up the phone weeping deeper then I had since maybe Paul and I divorced. I was so overcome when Jon told me to touch my pussy, allowing me to come finally I almost couldn’t bring myself to.

  I did of course.

  Sitting there in the bar across from Lisa now, her kind wide face set to that slightly blushed cast she gets when she is concerned, I couldn’t begin to spill the beans to what had transpired and how I felt more relaxed and comfortable then I had been in years.

  In the very short time I had known Jon a transformation had taken place in my mind. I had passed through and beyond all because of my sexual desire, a desire that now defined me as much as me traipsing around the world of bisexuality had before my marriage, as much as being a dutiful and faithful wife had defined me when I was and as much as my slightly wanton dom-ness did after. From the discussions I shared with Lisa and the rest of the girls who were here with me tonight, I knew I played with and within my sexuality more than they ever did – even Terri – and I was getting in deeper with Jon, being his toy notwithstanding. I was lucky he lived where he did. This wasn’t the first time I thought this – as I knew I’d be lost in our kinks too often if he lived nearer.

  “You are a million miles away, huh?” Lisa said leaning in.

  As ruminations often do, I knew I had been thinking in seconds, magnesium flash parsecs of time and space and hadn’t just checked-out for a half hour fantasizing about Jon and me. Still this was my best GF sitting across from me. She could tell I wasn’t really here tonight.

  “It’s just been a long week,” I said, sipping at my own drink.

  “Everybody knows it’s Jersey honey,” she said smiling over the lip of her frosty cocktail. “You haven’t been little ol’ Kay since you got back.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “You know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  I couldn’t even begin to tell her.

  “He’s got to come out so we can all get a good look at him, ya know?’

  “Well, yeah I’d like him to come out, but I don’t think he’s gonna like to be on display.”

  “Honey, we get the girls together we can circle him like hawks, you know that.”

  “Not this guy,” I said sipping and smiling. “You have no idea what Jersey boys are like.”

  “You are fucking smitten kitten,” Lisa laughed.

  “I guess, yeah I am,” I said then finished my drink in one long gulp, “but in ways you could never understand.”

  Lisa would have peppered me with more questions had I not jumped off my bar stool and literally run into the rest of the girls coming into view around the other end of the bar. Our table opened up then and we walked to it.

  Thinking I was off the hook, we all sat after the hostess with the impossibly high little ass sat us, wiggling our butts into our chairs and our minds over another round of drinks to her, who I watch
ed once again as she walked away to summon our waiter.

  “So, Jersey?” Lisa said as if continuing our conversation from the bar.

  I shot a glare at Terri for no reason.

  My pussy tickled wet.

  Angie and Marcie weren’t looking at me, nor were they looking away. Out of this group I knew them least, though I liked the willowy redhead, Angie, and our ‘token token’ as Marcie referred to herself, she a black girl with probably the most engaging smile I had ever seen. I knew they all cared about me and were looking for me to dish a little dirt on my new man, but the little I gave them at our most recent outings had festered a rabid need-to-know I was still reluctant to pursue. I wasn’t about to change my strategy for what I wanted to reveal about Jon, I wasn’t any more welcoming a coffee-clutch (ok, sushi-clutch) over what I was doing with ‘Jersey’ and where I thought it was leading when I first returned. But I was feeling a bit frisky this night, daring because of what Jon and I had discussed only a few hours before and for the simple fact I had come today after a week abstaining. I’d feed these four budding Yentas just enough to make their minds churn over who Jon was, what we were into and why I was so smitten.

  “Jersey is great,” I said smiling into my menu.

  “Little great, or great big great?” Marcie asked and the table tittered.

  “He’s goddamned perfectly sized great,” I said, “and I do mean purrrfect.”

  For emphasis I rolled my ass in my chair and the girls all went wide-eyed.

  Funny, this group had their minds distinctly on intercourse, and while Jon and I had fucked, we had done so many other things that excited us both so much more. In fairness to this group, other then maybe Terri, I didn’t think any of them were into anything much beyond vanilla sex (I knew Lisa’s history well enough to know she was pretty straight in the bedroom) and I had to censor my details as much for fear of freaking them out as me not wanting to tell too many tales out of school.

  Lucky for us all the waiter arrived just then with the drinks we had told the hostess of, he spat out some specials and retreated to give us a few more minutes to ponder the menus. I figured since these four wouldn’t be satisfied until I gave them enough bon mots to chew on, I’d take my sweet ass time doling them out. I simply studied my menu in silence while I felt the group around me try to do the same.

  “After he takes our order you are spilling your mother fucking beans girl, and I mean spill,” Lisa growled looking up from her menu as the table roared and tittered.

  I don’t know how much time passed as I tried to study the menu, but our waiter reappeared sooner more then later and took our orders.

  “Okay,” Lisa said leaning across the table after the waiter left us, “I want gossip. I want details. I want sizes, girth. I want every single secret of what’s been happening!”

  Again they giggled and again I shot a glance to Terri who seemed to be having a heart-to-heart with her second beer. She knew this was about Jon. I’d never betray her, but it was nice to have someone across the table who I knew was at least a little kinky, a little closer to me in the realm of naughtiness. And I knew she felt my look and in her own little way was offering solidarity here even if she couldn’t raise her pointy little chin right then and look at me.

  “I’m not gonna sit here and give you the sordid details,” I began.

  “Yes, we don’t want them,” Angie chimed in, definitely the more conservative of us all. I knew Lisa’s inquiry was as intriguing to the curly haired forty-five-year-old as it was unnerving. I flashed her a smile, which she returned, then I turned to the table to regard all of them.

  “The man is wonderful, in all ways. He’d built, he’s got probably the handsomest face I have ever seen and he is naughty with a capital Naughty.”

  “More then that I am not at liberty to say … or I’ll be punished.”

  Well, that was all they needed. Angie slammed back in her chair, Marcie simply sat with her pretty full lips open wide, Terri gulped and Lisa began rocking.

  Nothing I had said was a falsehood, but I hadn’t had to add the punishment part I knew. I did that simply for self-titillation, to shock them and maybe get Lisa to back off a bit. I knew they wouldn’t pursue beyond that comment and as our first few plates of exotic fresh fish appetizers came to the table the girls dug in with a gusto I hadn’t remembered seeing in quite some time.

  If they only knew the extent of my statement. The deep truth to what I knew they were simply assuming was simply a sexual little game between Jon and me or maybe even not real at all. If Lisa could even get her mind around what I had been through in the past weeks and how it had all fulfilled me in ways I couldn’t articulate. If Terri could begin to know that no matter how kinky she might be able to fantasize getting it didn’t even break on the shore of what Jon and I were into. If Marcie and Angie could have even pondered the implications of me asking to be, presenting myself as Jon’s toy and agreeing to his terms now, no questions asked … shit, if Angie even masturbated and could understand how it had quieted me so not to tickle myself for a full week as Jon called every night to torture me. If any one of them could have, for a split second put themselves in my stunted heeled sandals and really considered what I was going through, the skies would have ripped open with their realizations that sitting here with them was not the Kay they knew, not by the longest of shots.

  But I knew I was alone here and trying not to, I felt just that much more superior to the four of them, just that much more seasoned and worldly when I knew this was not really true. But mostly I felt, for the first time, truly not one of them, at least in the sense that really counted to me, in the deep rindy recesses of the parts and parsecs of my mind that fueled the heat that sweated the tight places I ached for Jon to touch, open and reveal.

  The eel was good though.

  3

  “I don’t want you to move or speak from this moment onward.”

  I didn’t, but I was pretty much shaking inside.

  Jon had called as I was sitting with my dearest and nearest chewing some ridiculously fresh tuna and I merely snuck a look at the cell and continued to let it vibrate in my pocket. This particular man could vibrate me any time he wanted I mused, giggling into the sushi, but all through the meal, which took another hour and half with Lisa staring at me the entire time, I couldn’t get my mind around the fact that Jon had called and what he could possibly want so soon after having just spoken to and getting me off that very afternoon. I feared and hoped he wanted to somehow call me out on being his toy, or maybe he simply wanted to gab, though that wasn’t something I knew him to do all that often.

  Funny, half of me wished this man and I would fall into simple bullshit phone conversations on a weekly basis while the other half of me wanted each and every phone call to be sexual. Given that Jon and I had begun so heated, basically a zero to sixty ramp-up pretty much from the minute we met one another, we weren’t ‘building’ to sexual intimacy as one would in most normal cases. Maybe he and I would build then to normal getting-to-know-ya chitchat, then again maybe we wouldn’t. What was more likely I knew, or at least seemed to have happened between us so far was we would learn what we learned by, during, before and after the kink we engaged in.

  I had no idea what, if anything would be learned when I got home and returned his call, but I did. I felt some strain between the girls and I was happy to be out of their company for the night. I knew Lisa especially felt a little put off by what I had said, while the others thought my punishment remark had been more my way of chilling them all to my business. Lisa knew me better. As much as she loved me she also has a slight pedestrian air about her (funny, given that amongst us all it was she who was stepping out on her man on regular intervals) and didn’t like to come face to face with my more-than-kinky reputation. She had never asked about my bisexuality, as if she didn’t want the rumor confirmed, but I knew she knew. Maybe she was insulted I had never made a pass at her, and who knew what she would have done had she known ab
out Terri and me! Either way, Lisa’s morality where my business was concerned wasn’t too much on my mind as I flipped off my platform heels and dialed the I-phone.

  Jon made that simple statement on answering so I simply stood there dead center of my wood-grained living room in my bare tootsies and listened.

  “I want you to be an inert thing for me,” he continued and at the word ‘thing’ my pussy flooded.

  “A toy to be sure. My toy ... but more than that. Much more.”

  “You gave me a lot to think about today,” the guy continued and I closed my eyes imagining Jon circling me right there in the room, whispering close, maybe even touching me slightly as he explained.

  “I jerked-off two times already thinking about you being there for me, being my object, my toy, my possession. About how this was a level of servitude beyond anything we had tried so far. I got so hard thinking about you inert under me and that’s the word that kept coming to my brain, inert, stilled, just a thing. I know you aren’t Kay. I know you are a living, breathing, sexy woman, all warm and curvy and wet in the right places...”

  I let out a snapped giggle but Jon ignored it.

  “…but the idea of you being a thing for me, a toy I can use, play with, then – and this is the part that made me come. This is the part that gets to me so much even now I find it hard to say aloud – that you will be a thing I can discard, leave, throw in the corner – that fucking makes me insane.”

  A tear fell from my right eye. I was so horny I was about to burst. I ached to lift my hands to my tits. They felt so heavy. I wanted to shuck my hips. I wanted to stamp my feet, cry out, agree with Jon on his every single point.

  “I want to stick my cock up your pussy as hard as I possibly can, thrust ten times then pull myself out as hard as I came in. I want to pull at your tits, slap them this way and that then roll you over, spread your ass and lick your asshole. Then just roll you into the corner, forget you like a kid would a toy he plays with for a few minutes then leaves. I want to pick you up, bandy you back and forth, then discard, fucking discard. That’s what makes me so, so crazy.”