by R. Greco
The shower turned off and I sat as demurely as I could to the front edge of my bed. A requisite two minutes to dry himself, Jon threw a breath of steam into the room when opening the bathroom door. I simply turned to regard him and he stopped dead in his tracks, towel in his crotch to look me up and down.
“Wow.”
“Wow, yourself,” I said noticing his cock beginning to rise through the terry cloth folds he held.
“I was hoping you’d like this,” I said and turned fully to him so he could get the full affect.
“Yeah, no surprise there, huh?”
“Come ‘ere,” I motioned and Jon stepped to my side, threw his towel on my bed.
I reached up and took his cock in hand.
“You know what has to happen, right?”
“I ... do?”
God, was I wet. I had his warm, slightly dewy dick growing in my hand, Jon looking down at my bare tits and my encased thighs, neither of us completely assured this was the right way to progress but each of us so very aching for it to. Somehow I once again had this normally dominant man in my control and both Jon and I loved every second of it.
“I want you to get over, but face up.”
I sat back, took my hand from his cock and patted my lap, “Come on, face-up my sweet boy.”
I didn’t know where I was going with this, but I felt draping Jon across my girdle cinched thighs for a spanking might be too obvious a turn. As the man smiled, bent, then turned to basically sit his ass down on me I scooted so Jon could lay his head and back on the edge of my bed.
“Now we should have a little talk, shouldn’t we?” I said and began to once again play with his dick. Jon was red faced and humping his hips to my touches.
“We’re going to get you so very, very hard,” I said and looked down at his warm fattening cock, “then we’re gonna get dressed, go meet everybody.”
“Oh Kay, Kay,” he said rising up to hump my hand.
“Shhh, shhhh,” I said, really too scared to listen to my own voice as I cooed at him, as I set the roles, as I tickled his dick, slowly up and down his shaft. Jon literally bounced his ass on my lap and I had him completely in my control.
“Mmm, getting’ there fast, huh?” I said and ever so quickly I gave his erection a ‘smat’ and Jon nearly shot off me.
“KAY!” he growled and I caught just a sliver of his dominance, a table-turning moment I could have succumbed to, admitted I was being a naughty girl for, rolled out from under the man, turned and presented my tightly covered ass over. But I didn’t. I stayed where I was playing with the guy, looking down at him and smiling ruefully. Silently amazed that a man of his age could get so hard so fast and after he had truly dumped a silky sweet orgasm in my mouth only hours before.
I was pretty much fucking flattered to be sure.
“It’s ok, just a little more ... ah...” arching my tits to him I managed one last tickle of my index finger up his popping vein to find a spot of pre-come ... shit, he really was a horny guy. Working it to the very tip of my finger, I then lifted my hand off his dick, brought my hand to Jon’s mouth and opened my mouth in coaxing.
“It’s ok honey, you lick it now, go ahead.”
If I had stopped for even the whisper of a second to listen to myself, to consider how I
was treating him right then. How for all intents and purposes I was making him my little boy and I was playing his mo...
“Kay...” the man over me moaned, opened his mouth and I stuck my finger in.
“That’s right sweetie, that’s right, you lick it good, lick it good.”
Jon was muffing around my finger while he wagged his cock in the air, but I was done touching him for the time being. A few seconds later I simply popped my finger free of his pretty lips and without words bade him lift off me.
I went about putting on clothes over the girdle and stockings as Jon took his tent pole past me to try and work himself into a pair of jeans.
There is certainly something about a good bunch of friends that makes you feel secure in ways even your very best lover can’t. All the girls were out at Mother’s this night and walking in with Jon on my arm, I felt like the belle of the ball, radiant in the attention and all around good vibes from Lisa, Terri, Angie and Marcie and Lisa’s hubby Bill. Then there were the satellites as we call them, all the people we know well and were the usuals of the local tavern. It was just one of those nights I was feeling a little more than finely turned out (with my girdle holding me in just the right places and my little heels ‘aclicking) my hair looking about the best it did all week and Jon being his charming, dimpled-cheek self. Again Jon and I hadn’t discussed the little dominant play we had managed before getting dressed and among my friends then it wasn’t much on my mind any more than me wanting to the man back to my house after a nice social two hours of anticipation.
Most of the two hours we stayed centered ‘round good ribbing about my man’s accent, his relating his perceptions of our environs and some salacious remarks my friends volleyed as much as Jon puked forth. We were a ribald bunch as Jon had heard me relate but was now witnessing and as he ambled to the juke-box my friends tittered like school girls about him (and Bill raised an eye brow) and I just lifted my right boob to their giggles.
Jon got along like a house on fire with Bill and I caught them in a lag of girl talk – though there weren’t many lags – chins nearly pressed together at the tight table-jawing about this and that. I was feeling quite warm towards the guy, less sexual then loving, as he fit in so well and we all joked, ordered more wine and a third coke for Jon. As it neared ten and our agreed upon time to split, I once again slipped into the third person to regard the proceedings.
Looking down at the pitted, slightly listing circular table set to the eastern corner of the half-filled dark bar, the tight group of five out of the seven rolled, shifted, lean this way and that from the focal point her and him. She was leaning across or into him more often than not and even though they hardly regarded one another as what seemed like a two hour audience progressed, he and she – the he and she that were now linked as he and she to all these people at the table as they were to one another – were aware of what had gone on this past half week as much as they were aware of what they’d be stepping into the minute they left the bar.
He was feeling the stress of his life so far away both easing from him and calling to him. He was also feeling as much confusion as arousal from the moments of submission he had allowed and even then wanted again.
She was aglow in her growing love of this man, but stained deep in worry that when he left in two days time she would never see him again. Had she flipped the coin of their usual tariff too often this week, had she taken liberties he had not wanted taken and what’s worse, could she ever return to only ever being his pet, toy, object without wanting to spank him on occasion or tease his cock to full thick erection but not let it come?
What would come of the couple of light and dark, even and odd, in-and-out a couple she was coming to regard as much part of her as much not?
END EXCERPT
5
Jon and I left the bar to some snickers, Lisa kissing both my then Jon’ cheek and a silent ride home. I had found all my sexual heat gone from me suddenly, not from not wanting to fuck the guy next to me, but from a sudden exhaustion that was settling over my head. I realized I was dead dog tired, really tired and as Jon pulled my truck into my driveway, opened the garage door (he still fumbled with the remote over his head ever single time which I thought was so cute) and then my car in, I looked to him and read the same exhaustion on his face.
It suddenly dawned on me that the very practical real effects of jetlag, running down to San Fran and back here, meeting my friends, not being in his own space and providing both some dom and sub shadings (and not nearly as much as I hoped we’d get into this coming weekend) were probably taking a toll on the poor guy. In my selfishness to get him here I had really not regarded how hard it was for him to ge
t out, even though his boss did owe him some time and Jon had some frequent flyer miles he used. We didn’t discuss it all that often because I knew it really bothered him to (and it was one of the few things I noticed that did) but Jon’s job wasn’t particularly stable at all times and only just recently had he managed to a place where he was seeing some steady income. The guy had a lot on his mind and I almost found myself crying for how much his head must be swimming with coming out but leaving his life back home.
“I am really glad you came out,” I said as he turned to flick his seat belt off.
“I am really glad I came out to,” he said and as I extricated myself he lean over and kissed my cheek.
We left my car and I waited for Jon to come round so I could fall into his side. Somehow managing with our arms round one another we serpentine through my crowded garage and stepped up into my house proper, after turning off the light, opening then closing the single door into my kitchen.
“Hungry?”
“Kay, enough with the food,” he chuckled as did I.
“You got to let me cook three squares tomorrow, ok?”
“Deal,” he said as we stayed locked hip to hip down my hallway and I flicked off the few lights I had on.
If he was up for it, I’d certainly open up, spread and get nice and dewy but like the night before I was dog tired. I was of a mind to go splash some water on my face, take a shower, run around the block if I had to wake up but when I saw Jon literally lie across my bedspread with his clothes on, I knew he felt the same way I did.
So much for libido, I reasoned.
Chapter Five: The Master’s “Little” Jewel
1
I turned my ass to the bathroom sink, took a step away from it then up on slight tip toes looked over my shoulder. I could clearly see the little red heart displayed at the bottom right edge of my right cheek. Instantly wet looking at it, as I had been taking down my pants here in Jack’s bathroom for only the purpose of looking at it, I smiled at my reflection, inched my way back to his cool tile sink edge, spread my thighs as wide as they would go with my pants and panties hammock-ed mid-thigh and rolled my hips just enough to get some pressure on my gloppy lips. Straining to look over my shoulder and back-up masturbate against Jack’s sink edge, I actually fantasized waddling out of his bathroom just then to show my best friend the mark Jon had had left on me, the mark that I had so willingly agreed on, the mark that made me ... shit, I began to come there so shuttering quick that I all but sat back on the sink as I felt juice dribble down my inner thighs.
Wiping myself as quick as I had come I wiggled back up into my panties and jeans, turned to wash my hands and gave my face the once over without doing much more then smiling to my now blushing cheeks.
Jon and I had made the most of his last weekend with me. From Friday night, when we literally collapsed into sleep, until he got into a cab at my front curb eleven am Monday morning, we stayed in to hang-out, fuck, eat, watch TV and fuck some more. Along the way he gave me a really good over-the-knee spanking Saturday afternoon, I gagged with his raging hard cock while fingering myself right after, then we fucked into a deep sleep after dinner. Sunday morning Lisa and Bill came over for breakfast, then Jon and I watched football until five when he turned to me with the wildest look in his eye-and I had seen plenty of wild looks in his eye-and said: “We need something to commemorate this trip.”
I was a little taken a back, truth be told. Beyond all the usual juicy sex we had and Jon’s more the adept handling of me – and God how I had ached for him to handle me like the little girl/pet/toy he always claimed I was – we had managed a great two days in San Fran where I had domed him for the first time and had quite the head spinning rumination over belting his ass there, then getting back to my house and me dressing as my own version of Bettie Page to tease and torture him, then all this good sex we had had during the weekend.
He thought we needed to commemorate somehow more?
“We need to get you a tat,” he added and I nearly melted on the couch next to him, “Henna of course.”
I already had a tat on my right forearm and the obligatory one on my ankle I now regretted. I didn’t fear them by any stretch of the imagination and Jon knew full well I had an ex who owned a shop in town that was pretty much open 24/7 ... or at least would be for me. The idea that the tat would be only henna, but drawn by a real tattooist fit in well with what Jon and I were about and I wasn’t really surprised at this particular way of Jon wanting to mark me.
Jon nor I would need modifications, piercings, tattoos, collars to hint at or reveal the submission I felt when with him, the control he had over me, or the times – few though they had been in our relationship – when the roles were reversed. Before my marriage, having stepped through the wild and woolly backgrounds of what most people view as non-vanilla sex or at the least alternative with all the lesbianism and kink I got into, I had witnessed plenty of people playing with who they were to someone else or who they were faux forcing their willing partner to be. While cock cages and collars were enticing, while I did like the idea of some permanent marking that would indicate Jon owned me in some way, neither he nor I was about anything permanent save what we could built in our hearts and heads for one another.
I saw girlfriends scrambling all the time to keep watch on their men, spouses or just boyfriends, as I caught plenty of men wanting to own their women. Thank God when Paul and I were married jealousy had never existed between us. He just knew me well enough to know that if I was going to make a commitment to him, one that saw us eventually get married, that I wasn’t going to stray ... I knew this about him as well. And while we didn’t ever really share any true kink between us, certainly nothing on the order of me using a little girl voice when coming for him or yearning for him to spank me, my ex hubby and I had quite a healthy sex life. I’m not so naive to think that marrieds enjoying one another in bed don’t take to cheating, it’s just that Paul and I discussed our fantasies plenty, regaling one another with how hot we had become during our day spying the cute new U.P.S guy or how the dentist’s receptionists’ boobs were truly a wonder to behold. As far as what Jon got up to on the east coast and what I did here it seemed to fuel our talks, as if neither of us wanted the other to alter a routine in the least. Whether the man and I could keep a relationship together in one another’s company 24/7 I had no idea and though I had ruminated on the idea I never thought once, that even if we were living together – Jon in Cali with me, me there in Jersey with him – that we’d have to consummate our attraction and what might grow-up and become love by wearing one another’s collar or having to endure a branding ... another idea he and I had discussed, right around the time we were lighting out for the tat shop and another one that, only in fantasy, I knew I’d enjoy.
Me keeping Jon and he me had nothing to do with keeping tabs via texts every minute of the day!
That Jon bade me get a little red heart, on my ass of all places, made me as wet when I had to drop my pants and peel my panties to the side for Jerry, an artist I knew pretty well would keep my secret ... especially from his boss, my ex. And from what I had just managed in Jack’s tight bathroom the Sunday afternoon marking was as exciting to me now as it had been ten days ago.
The thing with this whole dom/sub thing, and something Jon well knew and didn’t truck in – thank God, at least for my sensibilities – was that I didn’t live nor did I want to live the lifestyle 24/7 ... that’s really why a permanent tat would not have fit us. It was perfectly fine for couples who did and I knew plenty of them, but even back before my marriage when I was doming girls on a regular basis, I only wanted to do so in the confines of sexual play, never in real life where I’d demand someone wear a collar for me or sit at my heels at parties. That approach to the kink just didn’t do it for me, as much as skirting role-play was something I did with trepidation and only with the hint of reality to it, like Jon calling me his toy/pet/little girl seemed to. That I was wearing his mark, but a subtl
e little red henna tat at that, spoke to a smoking hot control the man had over me but not one readily apparent and not one we exercised all the time. And when it wore off, which Jerry had promised it would do in a month; my need to submit would still be in my head and heart as it always had been,
Still, it had taken me all my strength not to show Jack, not to drop trough the second I walked in his condo, turn around and have him inspect my bubble butt. To now be branded, to wear Jon’s mark, to have allowed something even semi-permanent from his last-minute matter-of-fact suggestion might have spoken to the man’s dominance of me better than anything yet we had gotten into.
“So we doin’ Mother’s for the grease or Jon’s for the bread?” Jack asked popping me from my musings.
I stopped up short regarding the smiling black guy looking up at me from his small butcher-block kitchen table. I had forgotten how hungry I was and now with the question of where to eat put to me I suddenly felt that hunger rise again.
“Jesus, some choice. Neither is gonna sit well.”
“Well duh,” Jack said and shot up out of his seat, “that’s kinda the point. You and I haven’t been on a good junk food run in a dog’s age.”
I followed the high round backside of the man in front of me as he reached for his jacket. My buddy was right; it had indeed been a bit since I played one of the guys and had gone out to knock a few beers back or just been in Jack’s company. I missed him dearly, I truly did, but the days got away from me, from all of us, I knew.
With Jon taking up six days of my time nearly two weeks ago I was just now coming back to myself and my schedule; it might be hard for some people to travel and get back to their life, more or less needing a vacation from their vacation, but for me it is equally as hard when someone I care for breezes through my life, sets my emotions – not to mention my loins on fire – and then leaves. Jon’s trip out here, not his first to Cali but certainly his first to my home, had truly been a whirlwind and cemented in my mind what a complete and utter mess I was around the guy. From aching so much for him to touch me, to fantasizing at every step that we were a couple, to latching onto his cock and not letting go with my mouth, pussy and hands, to even taking it upon myself to be the aggressor and wanton tease I had been all atwitter for the near week he was here and now only coming down from him being so.
