Alienation of Affection
By Billie.
I'm walking to the men's room. No, wait, this isn't the airport. I'm ... in a hotel. The airport must have been a very boring dream. Yes, that's right, Di and me checked into the hotel, and I was so sleepy I just took an Ambien and ... I don't remember anything after that. I must have gone straight to sleep. And, dammit, it made me sleepwalk and I'm in this hotel hallway now. What was my room number again?
Crap, crap crap, I don't remember!
OK, OK, be calm. Just go down to the lobby and ask the night auditor what room Ted Wilder is in. It isn't as if you're ... OK, you're naked. That is a problem. I don't even sleep nude. Stupid sleepwalking and apparently sleep-undressing!
Looking around frantically ... Room 631! That's right, I was in 631! I can just duck back into the room.
And the door's locked, of course. Hotel doors lock behind you automatically.
Knock quietly. Urgent whisper: "Di! Diane! Help, I'm locked out!"
Pause, but I knew she was listening. Diane slept so shallowly.
"What's up, pervert?" She sounds mocking and (oh, crap) she's shading into her Domme Voice.
"Di! I was sleepwalking. I took Ambien. Please, Diane."
"People don't strip when they sleepwalk, pervert."
Yes, people do strip when they sleepwalk sometimes, but arguing is not going to make Dominant Diane more agreeable, and someone could come down the hall any moment. I don't even know what time it is!
"Diane, I beg your forgiveness." Say it as humbly as possible, Ted!
"You'll have to earn forgiveness. Not this coming weekend, but next, as my chained slave. Saturday. Total obedience." Wow, she sounds incredibly autocratic. And there goes my dick, standing up and saluting her dominance.
"Diane, I love you, and I love serving you. I will be at your service." I hope she can hear how sincerely I mean that.
After only a very short pause, the door opens, and I am rewarded with a slim woman, a few inches shorter than me, looking taller because of her posture that suggests she's towering over me, coffee-with-one-cream color skin, black hair with dyed blond streaks in an updo, a ball of coiled locks on the top of her head. She's just as naked as me. The look of command in her eyes fills me with apprehension and anticipation. Also, it makes my dick even harder.
She closes the door behind me. "Don't expect any help from me with your little friend, there, Ted. I don't reward your exhibitionism when you don't ask my permission first. And you may not jerk off! Don't anger me any more than you already have."
My heart is pounding. "I will obey you, Diane, but I can't promise what will happen while I'm asleep. I really was sleepwalking."
"So, you're saying it's time to get the chastity tube out of my suitcase? Very good suggestion, worm."
Oh, crap. Over a week before she'll let me come, then? Also, all this humiliation talk is just making me harder. How is she planning to stuff this solid steel rod into the chastity? Oh, that's why she's grabbing the damned ice bucket ....
-------
I heard Diane in full Mistress Mode. "On your feet, slave!"
I'm still in bed, under the covers, warm and comfy. It takes a few heartbeats to fight my way out of my drugged slumber. Wish I didn't need the damned sleeping pills. I struggle with the blankets, still barely conscious, and manage to get out onto the floor, crawling. Finally, I support myself on the bed and get to a standing position. I don't know what time it is, and looking away from Mistress when she's speaking can get me punished.
One thing I don't love about living with Di: she naturally wakes up long before I do, and she loves to wake me from deep sleep. I already have enough sleep problems. As part of a scene, though, it's super-effective.
My vision is fuzzy, as always when I wake up suddenly from a sound sleep. I can just barely make out Diane. I turn toward her and stand at something like military attention.
"I do like your crawling at my feet, slave. Unless I just told you to stand!"
And there's the usual feeling as my dick tries to stand up inside the chastity tube locked onto it. It's like trying to lift a truck with one hand--my penis is trying very hard, and no amount of horniness is going to let it stretch or burst that tube.
My sight is clearing up now. I do wish I could rub my eyes, but I dare not change position. Di must have been awake for a while, because her hair is perfectly styled, and she's already wearing eyeliner and lipstick. She had her nails done yesterday, too. She looks amazing. Did she kindly let me sleep in today? She is stunningly beautiful. If we weren't in scene, I could just stand there and stare at her for minutes on end. It's too bad she won't permit that any more.
"Now, pants off and bend over the bed!" Diane always enjoys starting a scene with some kind of punishment, just to get into the mood. "You must learn to obey me quickly and accurately." Unfair punishments are fine, the point is the hitting and the taking of blows.
I slide my pajama pants down over my ankles and bend over the bed, my hands stretched out in front of me on the mattress, butt pointing toward my Mistress. The whistle in the air warns me before the paddle lands on my left cheek. The "Smack!" sound is much louder than my quiet grunt. The sound seems much more important to me than the flash of pain. Diane demands, "Count!"
"One!" Smack! "Two!" Smack! "Three!" Smack! "Four!" Smack! "F-five!"I'm sure there are bright red stripes across my pale ass. Di once said to me that she liked my white skin because it was so easy to mark.
I count up to "Ten!" and the blows stop. It would seem weird to most people, but I have a very macho feeling of pride in being able to take anything, accomplish any degrading task, to prove my devotion to my beloved wife. Enduring pain for my lady is very masculine to me. Di can't see it because my face is pressed into the mattress, but I'm smiling as she pounds my ass.
"On your feet! Faster this--" I actually get on my feet and facing her by the time she says "--time!"
"Better, slave. You may relieve and clean yourself now."
-------
I finish showering and shaving. The shower is good. It lets me run water over my frustrated penis inside the chastity tube, cleaning it after I piss. It's a tube only slightly larger than my soft penis, which locks onto a hard ring that rests behind my balls, held closed by a padlock. The last thing I want is to have a stinky dick when Diane finally allows it out again. It's hard to get soft--um, it's difficult to get soft enough to let much water in, actually, after a week of blue balls. I have to run the water ice-cold to shrink it, so there's room for any water in the chastity. Otherwise, though, the shower feels good.
It's only as I towel off that I realize she used the paddle with a BITCH stencil cutout to spank me. It's hard to read because the five marks on each cheek overlap, but I'm sure she enjoyed the look. In fact, I'm sure she'll keep enjoying it for hours, until the marks fade.
Mistress is waiting, dressed for casual weekend stuff, as I step out of the bathroom. "Kneel and present your hands."
I get on my knees and hold out my hands in front of me, and Di cuffs them. Those are the police cuffs, double-locking, not one of the padded cuff sets. She likes the looks of those, for times when I'm not going to be struggling. My dick is completely filling every atom of space inside the damned tube again, or at least it feels that way. Get into the headspace, Ted. "Thank you, mistress."
"Ding-Dong!"
The doorbell! Diane smiles and goes to answer the door! I'm naked and handcuffed and wearing a male chastity device, and I don't have permission to change any of that! Diane left the door to the bedroom open!
Maybe whoever it is will just go away?
"Good morning, Edith! Good to see you again. Come on in, come on in. You're the first, Shelly and Ji-Woo haven't come yet. Just put your coat on my bed, and I'll get you a drink. Tea with lemon, right?"
Put the coat on the bed? OK, I can't be here when she walks those 10 feet. Luckily, running in bare feet is quiet. Duck into the bathroom and close the door, then try to breathe quietly! Hell, I'm trying to make my heart beat quietly.
Edith calls out, "Is Ted here? I was looking forward to talking to him, I haven't seen him in weeks." That's true. Di really doesn't set things up for me to socialize with her friends any more. In fact, I don't seem to be included in any of her social plans.
I'm listening so intently I actually hear Edith's coat as she puts it on the bed.
"Ted isn't here, no. Some kind of airport thing. He's a senior manager, which means he has to cover weekend shifts sometimes if someone has vacation or sick leave or something." That's true, which makes it a good cover story.
Wait a second. We don't have a functional guest bathroom right now. The plumber is coming next week. That means the girls will have to use the very bathroom I'm in just now. I have to hide somewhere else. Since I can't leave this room without parading in front of Edith, that means the closet. I need to pick a time when nobody will be looking at the open door to the bedroom, like ...
"Ding-Dong!"
... like when Shelly arrives, and Di and Edith are looking at the door. I make my move, quick but quiet, carefully opening the left door because the right one creaks. I'm only visible for about two seconds, and I don't hear shocked gasps or anything, so I think I pulled it off. I close the closet door behind me. We have a reach-in type closet, with double louver doors, the kind with horizontal slats. It isn't totally dark inside, but it's dim and all I can see through the louvers is part of the bedroom. I can't even see the window.
Di's clever. She set things up for me to have a puzzle to solve or get embarrassed. I passed that test. Doing that to me without warning, though ... if I didn't connect the dots instantly, I'd have been caught. We'd have been caught. She's skating really close to the edge now. Is she trying to cause a disaster?
Thinking some more: there will be four women once Ji-Woo comes in. I'm guessing they're going to play bridge. I'm trying to remember, how many play Mah-Jongg? Ji-Woo was going to teach them that. I think four. Either way, though, they're probably going to be hanging around my house for hours, meaning I'll be in this closet for hours. I'd better make myself comfortable.
I'd also better not make myself too comfortable. I can't risk falling asleep in this closet while the girls are outside, and Di woke me up before I really had enough sleep. One snore, even one weird noise if I slump over, and ... damn it, this is Diane grandstanding. She's risking my reputation and possibly career with this stunt. And her own. She's never gone close to this far before.
Carefully sit down among the hanging trousers. (This is my side of the closet.) Cross legs. I can't do a perfect meditation position with the handcuffs on--can't put my hands on my knees.
Listen to the ladies, that's all the entertainment I'm going to have.
Unfortunately, a lot of it is just bridge. "One club", "Four no trump" and so forth. I am an OK bridge player, but without seeing any of the cards, it's hard to really pay attention.
Luckily, some chatter broke out. I'm not actually that interested in whether Shelly's daughter's homeroom teacher is dressing too slutty, but that stuff is at least more interesting than not being able to follow bridge. Actually, the slutty fifth-grade teacher makes for interesting fantasies. Diane and I used to read erotic stories about sexy teachers, back when we were first getting together. Thinking about that, there's the far too familiar sensation of my penis trying to escape its prison. Why, when, did we stop the sexy talk and mutual fantasies? That had been so much fun.
I'm not wearing a watch, and I can't see a clock through the closet door. After a few hands of bridge, Shelly comes in to use the bathroom, and I have to hold perfectly still and breathe quietly. I get to hear her pee tinkle into the toilet, and a flush. I'm glad to hear that Shelly washes her hands, and surprised that she doesn't use our bidet. It's so much better than just toilet paper.
So it goes. After a while, they switch to Ji-Woo teaching the others Mah-Jongg. After another while (I still have no idea what time it is), I'm relieved to hear the girls getting ready to leave. My legs are cramping from sitting almost motionless for however long it was. Hours, surely.
Wait, did they just agree to meet at a spa? OK, I can see Di coming into the bedroom through the closet louvers. I start stretching (as best I can without standing up, inside a closet), because I expect--
"Get out here, slave."
--that she'll demand I show myself. At least she isn't shouting angrily for no reason. "Yes, mistress." I use the back wall of the closet to lever myself up, then open the closet door and step out.
"You hid yourself well. I'm sure you are thirsty and hungry and need to pee. Bathroom first, and clean it after."
Biological needs, check. Makes sense, in a way. Diane is a mechanical engineer and project manager. The last thing she's going to forget is logistics. "Thank you, mistress."
---------
Leaving the extremely clean bathroom, I find Diane waiting in the living room. Her face is oddly expressionless.
"Slave, prepare lunch for me. I will have a club sandwich on wholegrain bread, with a glass of white wine." As I immediately started walking to the kitchen, she added, "Your lunch is already prepared." Oh, goodie, it's the doggy bowl of cereal and milk again. Good thing I drank some water in the bathroom after I cleaned it. Since when do I have to prepare myself for miserable thirst inflicted on me by my wife? Our games never used to be "gotcha" things. They were games, they were fun. Now she actually seems malicious, when she doesn't seem bored. At least the slap on the ass I got as I passed her seemed playful. Am I really treasuring any hint of joy from Di now?
I noisily sucked and licked up the cereal after preparing Diane's sandwich and pouring her wine. Now I'm kneeling silently beside her while she eats. Two years ago, she would have made that fun, calling me puppy and hand-feeding me or something. Now it's just dull. "Slave, I have an appointment at the spa with the girls. Edith got a gift card for her anniversary and we're making a party of it. You will be a slave until midnight, and I do not choose to release you from that obligation."
Wait, she's going to leave me here alone? That's her idea of ending the scene, just not even being here? I remain stonefaced with an effort. I strongly want to shout those words at her, but ... I promised.
Diane is drinking wine with lunch, but I poured that from an almost empty bottle that was full yesterday. How much alcohol has she had? Is it safe for her to drive?
"Mistress, perhaps this servant could act as your chauffeur today?"
"Ted" (breaking character there, calling me by name), "you don't need to worry about me. We're taking rideshares tonight, because we plan to go out for drinks and dinner, then clubbing after. I will sleep over at Ji-Woo's tonight, she has a spare bed. Do not worry." Then back into Mistress.
"While your Mistress is away, you will remain in bondage to me. I order you not to remove those cuffs, or the chastity, until midnight. The keys are in the usual place. I forbid you to turn on your phone or computer, or the television, or read. Spend your time contemplating your Mistress and proper obedience. Perhaps you will learn not to wander naked in hotels."
She has managed to turn dominance and submission games into ... boredom. She's going out of her way to bore me?
A honk from the driveway. Diane drew the blinds down, since I'm naked, so we didn't see the car pull up. "That's my lift, slave. Remember, contemplate me while I am not here." Then she's leaving the house, and I suddenly realize this was always her plan. That's why she had the special hairstyle and makeup this morning--not for me, for her expedition with her girl-pack. I feel my heart turn over in my chest.
And then she's gone.
I kneel there, dejected, for a few seconds, then stand up carefully because balance can be an issue with bound hands. I walk right over to the landline and dial one of three phone numbers I can remember without using my address book. "Molly? Listen, I'm alone at home right now. Di is having a girls' day and night out. Won't be back until tomorrow. Yes, as a matter of fact, I would appreciate some company quite a lot. Great! See you soon." Technically, still OK. I didn't turn on my phone, I just used the house phone. Practically ... not sure I care if Diane is disappointed in me, assuming she ever finds out.
While I wait, I actually do clean. Namely, I wash the lunch dishes, somewhat tricky in the cuffs. Then, I guess from a sense of obligation, I do contemplate Diane for a while. I remember when we were dating, when we first got married, I could smile for hours just thinking about her. Right now, thinking about Diane is not making me smile.
Finally, I hear Molly's car pull up. I position myself behind the door, so I won't be visible from outside, and unlock it. Molly just walks in, saying "Knock, knock!" as usual. After she closes the door, she realizes where I'm standing and turns to face me.
She's a big Black woman, taller than Di, almost as tall as me, and very, very wide. Molly once told me she weighs 240 pounds. I only weigh 190. Lighter than Di, skin the color of a latte, face very round and belly very round. The round ass is extra-special to me. I can see her expression freeze for a second, at nude Ted in handcuffs, with a plastic tube on my dick and a very visible padlock holding the retaining ring in place.
Molly steps forward, close enough to touch me. "Ted, how long have you been in that infernal thing?"
"She cuffed me this morning."
"No, the infernal thing on your dick, idiot!" She grinned.
I grinned back. "I know, I was teasing you. She put it on me last Friday, eight days ago."
"Where is the damned key?"
"Night table drawer, Diane's side, along with the handcuff key."
"You sit down on the couch, Ted, while I grab the keys."
I hear the drawer beside our bed open as I sit on the couch. I think I know what's coming, and it's going to be fun. A thought in the back of my brain says I shouldn't be sitting on the upholstery naked, and I tell it, "Just following orders."
There's a brief delay, maybe two minutes. When Molly comes back out, she's wearing only her girdle and bra. I can feel my whole face light up just at how beautiful she is. She is exquisite. Even as desperately horny and desirous as I am, it isn't just a sexual attraction. She's so overwhelmingly there, so abundant, so soft and resilient and accepting. And she's smiling at me, not maliciously, not sarcastically, but with real appreciation and affection. My mood just did a 180 degree swing and my heart is pounding even before she kneels in front of me (slowly and carefully, because of her size), pushes my knees apart to get close to my dick, carefully examines the chastity (I don't think she's ever seen one before), and then. And then stops? And bends over farther so she can gently lick my balls! Now my heart is really pounding.
After tormenting me with her tongue on my testicles for what feels like forever (and is probably 30 seconds), she pulls her head back, and finally, finally unlocks the padlock that has been in place for far, far too long, and carefully takes off the ring behind my balls. I beg, "Please be careful removing that, Molly. That tube has been on for a while, it might be sticking to my penis."
"Can't have anything hurting my joystick, can we?" She is extremely gentle as she carefully, I'd even say lovingly, eases me out of the tube. It's hard, pun intended, because my dick is harder than some diamonds. Molly is deliberately teasing me, fondling my balls and the base of my dick as the tube comes off. It feels amazing.
Once it's off, she tosses the chastity aside, and leans over to just blow air on the head. I am actually trembling. Molly looks up into my eyes and says, "I'm not going to tease you any more ... much. Just relax and let me be in charge, and it'll all be OK." Her smile seems to be bigger than the rest of her face, somehow. She grabs my ball sack in her right hand, and uses that to keep me from moving around while she leans way over and licks, starting from the base of my dick, verrrrry slowly up to the tip, where the small opening in the foreskin is. (I am not circumcised.) Then she slowly licks all the way back down to the base.
She squeezes the sack above my balls, forcing them against the tight, stretched out skin. It doesn't hurt, she's doing it just right. Then she licks my balls again, poking them gently with her tongue, and sucks each into her mouth briefly.
Keeping control of me with her right hand, she uses the left to push back the foreskin, exposing the head of my penis. It's as red as a tomato after all this stimulation, and after 7 days of teasing while in a chastity. She sticks out her tongue and licks the head like a lollipop a few times, then blows on it--it's so sensitive that blowing on the wet skin makes me wriggle as much as I can, with her grip on my testicles.
Molly pauses her oral attentions (but keeps stroking my dick with her left hand). "I've always liked playing with dicks. I like how just touching here can get a man's attention. I even like the look of a man's tool, the head hiding behind that little ring of skin. I like the feel, hard on the inside and silky-smooth outside. Ted, yours was the first White dick I ever tasted. Tastes great. I'm looking forward to your filling!" She giggled at my expression. I was not expecting that joke. Now that's just unfair. I have always found laughing women incredibly sexy, but she was already blowing me while I was naked and bound--she didn't need to amp things up even more!
Then, just like that, she takes the head between her lips. She doesn't suck, she grabs the end of my penis, holding it with her lips, and holding the rest of me in place by my balls. Then she licks the captive bit of flesh while it's in her mouth. I would love to squirm now, but I can't move! I do hear myself making little "Uh, uh, oh" sounds. It's so good, and I'm so helpless (I'm even still handcuffed), and I need this so much.
She finally moves forward, taking about half my length into her mouth. This position is wrong for deep-throating, unfortunately.
Molly turns her head sideways, so I'm poking her left cheek from inside, then moves her head to suck and nibble along the side of my penis, base to tip, then does it again to the other side.
I can feel something boiling up in me. "Molly, I'm close!"
"Good. Don't hold back. Come for me now!"
She tries to stimulate me as much as possible, taking my full length into her mouth and sucking hard while moving her head back and forth and making the most wonderful sounds, humming to vibrate me and "Ggglk, ggglk" semichoking sounds when I hit the back of her throat. Her hand that has been tethering me all this time is now caressing and squeezing my balls, and her left hand reaches under to rub the area behind them. I taught her that trick, and the memory of that great experience is making my hips thrust forward.
After all that, it takes minutes and minutes of sucking to take me from "close" to "there", but when the explosion comes, I am nothing but the orgasm. I lose every sensation except the wonderful things Molly is doing to me, the friction, the pleasure, her mouth sucking and her hands caressing me in perfect sync with my squirting, making it so much more intense ....
And when it finally ends, I'm sitting on the carpet. I came so hard I fell off the couch!
Molly has gracefully moved back to stay on my penis. In fact, even though I have come and my dick is softening rapidly, she's still holding me in her mouth. She's holding still, but sealing her lips around me and sucking to keep me inside. That feels so good, and it makes me feel loved. She's doing all this just to please me.
Finally, she starts to pull back, but she maintains the suction, stretching my limp dick out a couple of inches, until it comes out suddenly with a "Pop!" and we both laugh, her leaning back from me into a sitting position on the floor.
"Lover, that was way harder than usual. I mean, not your dick, which is always plenty hard for me, but how long it took you to come." She has a big smile and a few drops of semen on her lips.
"That happens sometimes when I get orgasm denial, like with the chastity. It can take forever to come when I'm finally allowed. Molly, darling, that was overwhelming and powerful and all the stuff I can't think of words to say. Thank you!"
I can see it now--I actually came hard enough to slide the couch back a couple of inches. Now I'm leaning against it, my bare ass on the carpet, my legs stretched straight out in front of me, one foot on either side of the large, loving Black woman who just saved me and pleasured me, without ever once letting me out of her control. I realize that my expression is exactly the same as hers, that big grin, and we're intensely staring into each other's eyes. Oh, and I'm still handcuffed.
She leans forward and kisses me, then jams her tongue into my mouth. She swallowed most of my load--Molly is very, very proud of how she gives head--but I still get a taste. I'm used to it by now, but that was weird the first couple of times. After a minute or so of leaning forward on me, her huge boobs resting comfortably and heavily on my chest, she struggles to her feet. Getting up off the floor is one of the few times her size makes her seem anything but graceful.
"Ted, go into the closet and grab two big beach towels and two hand towels." She's still very much in charge. And I'm still very much into it!
I bring the towels into the bedroom, where Molly is taking the coverlet off the bed. She spreads the big towels out (the small ones are to clean each other up, after), and lies down on her back with her legs spread., head and shoulders propped up by pillows, knees bent a little. She couldn't possibly look more inviting or wanton without my actually being between her legs fucking her. My dick isn't exactly hard again just yet, but not asleep either.
"Come over here" pointing at the side of the bed nearest her. I do, and she unlocks my handcuffs, then puts them on the bed next to her, key still in the lock. "I'm going to think about my own pleasure now, Ted, and you have very talented hands." I can feel my grin, which never went away, becoming almost impossibly wide. Sternly: "You don't get to fuck me until I say. Just make me happy. You know I reward hard work..." She has to pause a second, because we both know she's overacting and she's fighting not to giggle. "Just do me already, Ted."
I'm not remotely dumb enough to argue about that. I start by bending over and kissing her on the mouth, gently and as calmly as I can manage, not rushing her. Part of me wants to show her just how frustrated I was. Part of me just knows that a slow buildup will make her happier when we're done, and I desperately want to make her happy. I kiss her lips, then gently suck on them, then open my mouth to put my tongue in hers--but she's faster, and more eager now, and thrusts her tongue into mine hard, licking my teeth. Our tongues wrestle for what has to be minutes, because it's so much fun we don't want to stop.
While kissing, I slide my left hand under her back and unclasp her bra. Her boobs are big, and saggy, and amazing. I finally get on the bed with her, and lie beside her, facing her. Her belly is big enough that I can't do a standard missionary position without pressing down uncomfortably hard on her. I can pull off the bra and spend some time reminding her breasts who their best friend is. They seem to really like stroking, licking, and sucking. Becoming flushed and swollen is "liking" if you're a breast, right? Her nipples are already hard by the time I get to them, but I think they appreciate the attention. I know Molly does, because she's moaning and squirming and her face is also flushed. (Yes, you can see a flush in a Black woman's skin. At least, I can see it in Molly's.)
Finally, she can't take it any longer. "Ted, stop teasing me already!"
I feel triumphant. I have Molly so excited she's on the edge of losing control. I kiss her boobs goodbye (actually whispering "Goodbye, right. Goodby, lefty.") and move down between her legs.
"Molly, please keep your boobs happy while I'm busy down here." I can feel her arms moving above my head, and I know she'll be pinching and stroking her own nipples. She does that.
I unsnap the bottom of her girdle, and fold it up to reveal her navel. Quickly, before she can say "No" (which she might) I lean down and kiss, then tongue the belly button, forcing a quick giggle from her, before leaning back and stroking her thighs, down from the crease where they join her body toward her knees, then up the sensitive inner thighs alllllmost to the clipped, short pubic hair, then around but not into her vulva to caress her lower belly. She's squirming and breathing hard. I'm having so much fun. I use great care to stroke just over her, caressing the short hairs but not even grazing the skin. She thrusts up with her hips, but I was expecting that and draw back.
She actually whimpers, then says, "I said to stop teasing me."
And I raise my head, look her in the eye, and say, "No."
It feels exhilarating. The energy between us spins 180 degrees and I am in command. Molly's face changes, too. She knows I have her, and she's ... thrilled. She was smiling before, but now she is suddenly relaxed and open-mouthed and ready.
I tap my right forefinger, gently, over her clit. I know where it is by now, I've felt it on my tongue enough times. And she grunts and her belly spasms under my hand, and I lower my mouth to her pussy.
I start to lick up her lower set of lips, and her hips jump up and her crotch slams me in the face, actually knocking me off her for a moment. I chuckle, and I can hear and feel Molly doing the same--it's an amazing feeling of connection, just from that shared amusement about how excited she is. I pat her round belly. Molly is well-padded, the impact doesn't hurt, it's just surprising. I lean my weight forward a little, my hands on her hips, keeping her in place as I succeed, this time, in licking her, up and down, still as slowly as I can manage. In the back of my brain, the Pointer Sisters' "Slow Hand" is playing. In my experience, "Slow Tongue" also has many fans.
My hands slide around to grasp the huge hemispheres of her humongous butt. It's wonderful, to have this dynamic, powerful, amazing woman just give all of herself to me. I lick, gently and slowly, all around her lips, moving up to tease the clit and then back down before it can get really intense. The lips are getting swollen and hot and the wonderful taste is different. She is very, very turned on. In a counterpoint to the slow approach in front, my hands are grasping and squeezing and caressing with force behind. Molly is anything but fragile. Her ass can take the full strength of my hands. I don't go near her asshole today. I just appreciate and enjoy and worship her beautiful, beautiful behind. And of course, most of my attention is on her mound, where I'm now circling her clit with my tongue, starting at a fair distance, and graaaaadually working in until I'm almost touching it, moving it around a little as my tongue presses against the surrounding skin. Molly is making little grunts every time I increase the stimulation a little, then back off. It's delightful.
And it's time, like she said to me, for Molly to come.
My tongue starts sliding right over her clit, the tiny center of joy now hard and standing bravely up between the top of her lips, covered by the tiny hood. I always find that cute. She gasps and says, "Yes" and starts to writhe, and I speed up the back-and-forth motion over her pearl, then gently close my lips over it as she starts to hump my face and I faintly hear "Yes, yes, yes" through the heavy thighs clamping over my ears and my hands spasm tight on her butt, fingers sinking deeply into the softness of her and she's coming and those powerful muscles are bouncing my head up and down and I keep going until she starts to flag. And then I slow the stimulation, and slow it more, and stop.
Her legs relax back from my head, and I take a deep breath, and then another. The distinct smell of Molly's sex fills me.
I crawl up until I'm lying next to Molly, my head even with hers, and put my arm around her. Her eyes are closed. We rest for a minute or so, just cuddling and not talking.
Finally, Molly breaks the silence. "Ted, that was ... you never took over like that."
"I hope you aren't mad at--"
"Mad!" Her eyes fly open. "Ted, I was about to say, 'Why didn't you do that before?'"
After a second of staring directly into each others' eyes (and wow, the intimacy of that eyes-inches-from-mine look), we both smile.
"Because I enjoyed you being charge so much, Molly. Because you made being obedient and passive so much fun, I didn't want to do anything else."
"Well, good. I mean for you to have fun. But I know that goes both ways. From now on we're going togo both ways."
"That's another reason I love you, Molly. I mean, besides the kindness, the affection, the beauty, the sexiness--your sense of humor."
"Don't you ever put sexiness last again!"
"See what I mean?"
---------
We're eating reheated sausage-and-mushroom pizza in the kitchen. I'm wearing my bathrobe (commando) and Molly had to put her clothes back on--we don't have a robe in the house big enough for her. I tried to talk her into eating in just her girdle, or nothing, but no.
I'm far from done with Molly for the evening. I know she remembers that I did not fuck her, although I was certainly hard by the end. I deliberately tied the robe so that I flashed her a couple of times, and I'm posing as sexy as I can. I believe I might be seeing a glitter in her eyes ....
She breathes in through her nose, deep, eyes closed, then says, "Ted, we have to talk about this."
"Molly, that's a classic thing-you-don't-say-to-a-guy."
"Ted, I appreciate your humor, too, but please don't try to divert me just now." She looks very determined, and sad. I hate when she looks sad.
"I'm sorry, Molly. I just.. I mean ..." Since when do I get stuck like this? I can feel my heart turn over in my chest. Again. She's right. I take a deep breath of my own, as Molly stays silent, letting me prepare.
"You mean, I'm sleeping with. No. I'm having a love affair with my wife's best friend." Pushing that out of my throat hurts like swallowing a handful of needles. Somehow, it comes out flat anyway.
Her voice is almost a whisper. I ache for her pain even more than mine as she says, "Yes. And I'm in love with my bestie's husband."
Neither one of us wants to go on. This is getting almost silly, let's at least try to get this over with. "Molly, I don't know that I'm even still married to Di, except legally. She hasn't shown any sign of caring about me since ... well, you know about her affairs."
"Of course, I know about them. We've even talked about it. It doesn't excuse us, Ted!"
"No, of course not, but that's not what I mean. We did couples counseling after that, and everything was fine for a while, but it was just 'fine'. There was no passion, just toleration. Not even any affection, from her end. I swear to you, I swear before God, that I love Diane, that I wanted nothing more than our happiness back. I never got any of that from Di. She tolerated living with me, and as far as I know, never had another affair. What she didn't do was ... love me. Or like me. Or show any affection for me at all. She seemed to think that the marital bed was all the affection I needed, was the only thing that mattered to me, to us. Di hasn't so much as kissed me on the lips in a year."
"Dear God. And you just ... went along?" Molly looks almost offended. At least I managed to distract her a little from that damned guilt I was seeing in her.
"I offered affection. I would go in for a hug and she'd turn away. She was, is, willing to fuck, but, but ... I mean 'fuck'. We haven't made love in a very long time." Molly knew the difference. My breath catches before I can force out, "You know I'm usually up for anything, but I don't enjoy fucking a woman who doesn't want to kiss, who doesn't want to spoon, who doesn't want ... me." I can hear my voice getting stronger, hear myself pleading my case, hear my anger.
"That's why we were doing the female domination thing more and more. When Diane loved me, it was a fun game we did to make things more intense. Like what you and I just did, Molly, where you were solidly in charge, but I always knew your plan included me being happy when you were done. Lately, even that with Di is just, just empty. She goes through the, the motions, she [gasp] just acts commanding and says mean things, but there's no charge to it because there's no, no, no feeling behind it." (I'm almost stuttering. This is so hard to say.) "I miss the Diane I fell in love with, every day, every minute sometimes, but she isn't there, at least she isn't there for me. She went out to the spa and dinner and clubbing with her girlfriends tonight. At a time when she had committed to being with me, a special occasion. She and I haven't eaten out together, except for business events, for at least a year. She just doesn't want to be with me. And I have to live with her, and it just ... just ... " Crap, I'm about to cry. And then I'm weeping, and Molly gathers me in for a big hug.
She is the most patient woman. She lets me cry it out, and I find that I'm not ashamed to cry in front of her. It takes minutes, weeping for the death I just said aloud, the death of my marriage. Oh God.
When I can talk again, I say in a wavering voice, "Molly, I don't think there's a marriage there to betray."
Molly squeezes me hard, then pushes me back so she can see my face. "So why do you 'have to live with her', Ted? Why can't you just leave?"
This one, I know the answer to. "Because I'm stubborn. I only realized that today, when she was punishing me for nothing without any passion or enjoyment that I could find. I was still enjoying it on one level: I was proud of my ability to commit to something, like a day of slavery, and then stick to my promise. I realized then, that's why I'm still in this pretend marriage. I can't be the person who ends it. I gave my word and I'll stick to it, through any misery." I hear my voice no longer wavering, no hint of a stammer. That's one thing that I'm still confident about.
"Didn't you also promise to remain faithful to her, though, Ted?" She could have made that cutting, wounding, but her voice is gentle and forgiving. Doesn't need to be, though.
"Actually, she insisted on giving me permission to have two affairs, since she did." Tight smile on my face. Molly's face contorts, though. She pauses to think it through--I love that about her--before answering.
"That does sound like Di. She has very rigid ideas about fairness. I don't think she was picturing me in your bed, or you in mine ..."
I jump in, "Or on the living room floor, or in the hot tub ..." She laughs briefly at that.
"Thank you again, Molly. You helped me realize how I feel, and I know what I want to do." I'm internally amazed at how confident I now sound.
"So tell me, then." She sounds slightly surprised. Well, I did go from weeping emotional wreck to confident and decisive in less than a minute. I don't think Molly realizes how steadying she is for me, how wonderful she is. Yeah, I'm in love with her. I didn't admit that to myself until now.
"Well, one thing Di and I still have in common is being project managers, so here's my numbered list, subject to revision." I see Molly twitch at the comment, but smile. We really do appreciate each others' jokes.
"One, take you into the bedroom and fuck you extremely silly. I am not passing up the chance. Two, set things up so Diane has to sit and listen to me, to us. I have an idea about that. Three, come clean with her about us. Four, ask her what she actually wants. Me out of her life? Me as live-in stranger but we both have separate lives? Something else? I still love her, Molly, I swear I do. I'm willing to do a lot to have her be happy. I'm just not willing to be unhappy every single day because the Diane I married moved out years ago, even if her body is still here."
Molly smiles slightly as I count off my points on my fingers, accidentally-on-purpose slipping into my "project manager briefs his team" business persona.
"I love you, Ted. I have to ask, though, you do realize this could break ... everything? Not just your marriage, but your career, and mine, and our lives. We could be the scandal of the week."
"What's our better choice? I mean it, tell me a better idea. I'm fresh out."
"I was thinking ... it's stupid. I was thinking about moving to Arizona, to take myself out of the picture."
"Molly, you have a life and a career here. If you throw that away for our sakes, it would make me, and Diane, miserable. She might not be acting like your best friend just now, but she still wouldn't want to be responsible for driving you out of your home town!"
"You're still defending Di. I said it was stupid. I'm like you in that way."
"Stupid?" Still doing my comedy routine. And got a smile.
"Stubborn. Willing to go over the top for Di, I guess." She looks sad again, damn it. Change the subject.
"Before I forget, I need to apologize to you. I watched you shower--"
And now she's the comic. "Don't you dare apologize for liking to watch me!" Same impulse, trying to lift the mood?
"No, and I wouldn't. I did see two red handprints on your butt, though, from when I squeezed you, hard, in bed. It felt great to me, but I didn't intend to mark you." The first time I saw Molly with her girdle rolled up, I was surprised how much lighter her rear is than her shoulders or face. I guess it never sees any sun. She always seems to have a "foundation garment" on when she's outdoors. Darker than my pale ass, for sure, but light brown, not the deeper color of the exposed parts of her body.
She's smiling at me! I can feel my own mood going into glee, just because I made her happy. (And a sad part of me remembers feeling this way when Diane laughed at one of my jokes, years ago, when we were courting at University.) "Do not apologize for that, Ted. I am not fragile, I am not delicate, I am not some kind of frail maiden. Squeezing my butt felt great, and the marks are something I will treasure. I want a picture of them, in fact--take one right now!"
"OK, but if you say to put it on Instagram, I might hesitate." Molly gives me her phone and rolls up the girdle again and pulls down her pants, and poses, bent way over the kitchen table with her hippo butt (she uses that expression) sticking out, and I snap a couple of shots.
When Molly straightens, she has a thoughtful, eager expression. I'm suddenly sure of something, and I ask, "Molly, are you thinking about getting spanked?"
She starts and looks guilty, then shyly (Shyly! Molly!) says, "Yeah. I ... I was fantasizing about it even before today, but now you actually did stuff to my butt, and it was great and it changed the whole ... the whole mood, the flavor of your eating me. Yeah, I want that."
I am in negotiation mode, suddenly. "OK, you said 'butt stuff'. We never talked about butt sex. You want a spanking, but how do you feel about anal?"
There's that shyness again. She's actually being brave saying this stuff. "I'm open to anal, but not tonight, please. I ... Sir, would you spank my naughty behind to help me learn correct behavior?" Wow, she switched to a schoolgirl voice. This really is her fantasy.
I can roleplay too, Little Miss Schoolgirl. "Miss! That is most improper behavior. Indeed, you need to be corrected, strictly. I will await you at my desk." I point at my actual desk in one corner of the living room. "Retrieve the appropriate paddle from storage (head-gesture to the bedroom, where the household toybox is) and bring it to me!" I'm reinforcing her fantasy, and also deliberately letting her pick the implement for her first spanking. I want to satisfy her, not test her limits. At least, today. Wow, it feels good to be back in top mode. I haven't done a scene from this side in years.
She comes to where I sit in my desk chair, timidly holding the yardstick. Very good choice--in character, painful, won't cause deep bruising. "Here you are, Sir." Still doing a very good schoolgirl voice. I wish I had taken time to dress, to stay in character myself. Just brazen it out.
"Stand facing the desk!" She shuffles over to stand far too far away. "You know better, Miss Prescott!" Where did that name come from? It works, though. Thanks, subconscious mind. I love improv, and I haven't done any in years. This is going to be fun. "Stand right up against the desk, thighs touching it, straight up at attention, eyes forward, feet pointed directly ahead. Really, Miss Prescott, you were taught this your first day here!" I think I got the schoolmaster voice just right that time. "I suppose I shall have to repeat, and reinforce, your early lessons. I shall reprimand your teacher, Miss Haversforth, as well--this is the most basic of lessons and you clearly did not receive the proper indoctrination." I wonder if I can have Molly be Miss Haversforth in a future scene?
"Raise your head. You must be a straight line, from heels to crown. Face directly forward, Miss Prescott. Have you never seen proper posture? Have you never seen the King's Guards? Yes, Miss Haversforth shall definitely hear from me."
I prowl around her, myself standing rigidly upright, reaching out to prod with my finger in various spots to "correct" mistakes in posture. I stay out of her line of sight, trying to distract her into looking to the side, but she's being very obedient. It's so satisfying! Hands on her shoulders, pull back ungently. "Shoulders back, chest out, Prescott!"
Finally, I stand directly to her left side and just look at her. I know how prolonged silence and waiting can affect someone. I just contemplate her, from my own erect but relaxed stance and wait. After five breaths, I see her tremble slightly, just from the tension buildup. I give it another five, until she's looking really nervous, before I say, "Well learned, Prescott." I see the tension release from her face. She's really into her role. If this was a movie, she'd be up for an Oscar. "That does not release you from the need for punishment. Ask me for your paddling!"
Schoolgirl voice: "Please, Sir, may I have my paddling?" She sounds all squeaky and frightened. It is so much fun to roleplay with someone this smart and into it. I'd be grinning, except I'm totally into my role, too. The contrast between this very large 30+ Black American woman and the English schoolgirl voice she's affecting is really enjoyable, too.
"Request your paddling in the proper manner. Address me as 'headmaster'. State the reason you feel you deserve a paddling. Request a specific number of strokes. I remind you that you must count the strokes aloud, as you are paddled. Uncounted strokes will be repeated until you speak the number aloud. Wriggling will be punished with additional strokes. Shouting or begging will be punished with additional strokes. Weeping, however, is permitted." I'm pretty proud of that speech.
Deep breath, which is (pardon the pun) breathtaking on a woman with such huge boobs, and then, "Please, headmaster, may I have 20 strokes of the ruler, to punish me for my improper behavior in class, and my improper behavior here."
"You may. Disrobe. No, leave the trousers around your ankles, and lift your blouse above the waist. Unfasten your undergarment and roll that up as well. Bend at the waist and lay your body flat on the desk. You may cross your arms in front of you and rest your head on them. Face down, Prescott. " Molly's big belly could make it awkward to lie on her front with no head support.
While she was getting the yardstick, I had fetched a soft towel from the linen closet and folded it into a pad about 3 inches thick. I grabbed it now, and as soon as Molly settled on the desk, I say, "Spread your knees. Wider. Now lift your hips." I have two reasons. One, Molly in "presenting" position, butt in the air and head down, is super sexy for both of us. Two, I stick the towel under her mound, between her and the desk. "This will prevent you from ruining the finish on my desk with ... fluids." It also meant that every time I spanked her bottom, she'd be pressing her sensitive bits into the soft towel. I do like it when a plan comes together. Her inner lips are dark and thinned out, which means a very excited woman. "Knees together, hips down as flat as you can."
Can I get her to come from her first spanking? I take a last, loving look at the handprints, which I'm about to cover with new marks.
Hee hee. She's squirming around on the towel, stimulating herself. "Miss. Prescott. Surely, you remember the time, one minute ago, when I told you that wriggling was. To. Be. Punished. You will receive three. Additional. Strokes." Pause. "Apologize. Correctly." The pauses and very slow speech are meant to be intimidating.
Molly twitches when I start talking, freezes, and then seems to cringe with every word. I'd be worried about her, but she's also clearly superheated, and has to struggle to not hump that towel. The towel is clearly the best idea I've ever, ever had.
"Headmaster, I apologize for my inability to remain still."
"Very well. Prepare yourself. Since your early education here was clearly incomplete, I will inform you that the correct way to count strokes is, '1 stroke, thank you headmaster, 2 strokes, thank you headmaster ..." and so on. Clear?"
"Yes, si-Headmaster."
"Careful, girl. I'll allow that, but in the future we'll expect, and enforce, perfection."
"Thank you, Headmaster." That was stronger.
I tap her lightly on the left butt cheek with the ruler, taking a stance to her left and behind. She twitches, but even in this roleplay I'm not going to punish a twitch. Today. "Now."
I draw back the yardstick, pause for drama and take a brisk ... practice swing at nothing. She flinches at the whoosh sound.
"One additional stroke for flinching. Thank me, and tell me the total count with penalties."
Pause. "Thank you, headmaster. That is 24 strokes."
"Correct. Very good, keeping your head." This time without warning, I swing, level with the ground, not hard, but hard enough. There's a resounding smack as the yardstick meets her right cheek, which jiggles entrancingly. My hard dick is now extending out of the robe.
And no count!
"Did you forget something, Prescott?" A little harder this time, left check, smack.
"1 stroke, thank you, Headmaster!" she blurts out. I can see the red rectangles on her ass from the two blows, and the red blotches appearing on her body. She's one of those women who flush all over when turned on. With her dark skin, it's more obvious on the soles of her feet. She's the only woman I've known whose soles get red blotches when she's excited.
Left again, smack! Still only using half my strength. "2 strokes, thank you, Headmaster." Her voice is stronger, but still the schoolgirl. She's more sure of herself, she knows what to do.
I give her one more at half-strength, then start to go slightly harder, paying attention to her reactions, shifting my target to cover her entire butt, always careful never to come near hitting a bone, or her anus. The butt is perfect for this stuff, because it's so much muscle and fat, it's hard to hurt a person seriously unless you miss by a huge amount. I keep going to about 3/4 strength.
"15 strokes, thank you, Headmaster." She's starting to get too complacent. I dredge up technique I haven't used in years and land the next three hard strokes in one second. I've still got it!
My voice is amused as I say, "Count."
"16 strokes, 17, thank, 18 ...." she stops in confusion. Her hips start pumping, her breath hisses in between her teeth--she's coming! I land gentler taps up to the count of 24, timing them to land with her forward thrusts. I'm trying to intensify the orgasm. Then I step forward and put my hand on her back, asserting possession, on the spine just under the shoulder blades, and wait out her moans and grunts. It's beautiful to watch and feel and hear.
When her breathing slows down, I say, "You did know about the penalty for wriggling, and failing to count, Miss Prescott." I continue to do the "amused authority guy being domineering" voice.
I wait. She takes almost 30 seconds to gather herself, then, "Yes, Headmaster."
"Let me feel your temperature." I put down the yardstick and step behind her, then firmly (not harshly) grasp her butt cheeks. Her ass is as red as it can get, shining through the dark skin like the fire in a piece of charcoal. The skin is hot, very hot. "Yes, the rump roast has definitely reached the right temperature." She's squirming against the towel again. "You're quite ready to ... serve. I don't think more strokes are the appropriate punishment in this case. As head of the school, I do have discretion."
"Prescott, are you virginal?" I can feel Molly wondering where I'm going with this, in the scenario. I can't see her face from directly behind her, though.
"Virginal, Headmaster?"
"You needn't pretend ignorance, Prescott. You're clearly experienced. No girl reacts so heatedly to a paddling unless she has been stimulated before. I'm not ignorant, either, Prescott, and I'll thank you not to not imply that I am."
I wait a full five seconds before she catches on. "I'm sorry, Headmaster."
"For your additional punishment, I believe I will degrade you, Prescott, from student at the Academy to mere crumpet. Let us see how you squirm on a man's prick, missy!" I use both hands on her hips to pull her back a few inches, so there was space to reach her mound. With my right hand, I rub the head of my dick up and down her labia, while my left reaches under her to massage the area around her clit, not touching it directly yet. She's squirming quite a bit. A woman of size squirming makes for some very pretty jiggling. I'm trying to control my own breathing, not wanting to pant loud enough for her to hear just yet.
"You may wish to inhale as I do this, Prescott." I slowly, slowly enter her for the first time in that long, long day. She's amazingly tight and wet--she must be so turned on now. I start pumping, slowly, maybe once every two seconds.
"Do well, Prescott, and I might make you Best Girl for your year. Do you know what a Best Girl does, Prescott?" Headmaster is sounding much more excited. I myself don't know if I'm acting or it's just my real feelings leaking through.
"N-no, H-headmaster." That's one shaky voice in return.
"The Best Girl reports to the Headmaster whenever she is not in class, and after classes are done for the day. She is responsible for assisting me with all sorts of office tasks that she is capable of. Filing, answering simple correspondence, perhaps some light cleaning. Oh, and satisfying male urges. That is a vital function of the Best Girl." I speed up my thrusting, and begin stroking closer to the clit, then circling it, faster and faster, with my first finger. "I begin to think you will excel," gasp "at the very least," gasp "at that one task." Now I am panting loudly. She's breathing in sync with me, I suddenly realize. As I get close, I swipe my finger over her clit rapidly, and with my right hand smack her on the ass one last time.
We come together. I hear her moans mix with my grunts and involuntary "Yes!" She's spasming and I'm squirting and it's wonderful and overpowering.
When we're satisfied and tired and happy, I lean forward over her sensitive butt (feeling her react as I press against it) to hug her from behind, as she lies on the desk.
--------
Later, after we shower, clean up the desk and carpet, move the couch back where it belongs, and put a load of towels in the washer, we talk some more.
Molly sits down, very carefully, on the recliner, the softest chair in the house. I grin at her and bring over a chair from the kitchen, so I can sit facing her.
"Who's my Best Girl, Molly?"
"Damn. Now I feel like I'm being compared to Diane." Aaand the exact opposite of my "make her smile" goal achieved. My brain's sound-effects department is playing the Pac-Man wee-eee-eee-oop-oop sound. Lost that round.
"I love you. I need to say that. I wasn't meaning to compare you to Di. I don't need to compare you to anyone. You are wonderful. You really, really are. You ... you make me happy. Without even thinking, you just do the right thing, for me. It's weird, but it has nothing to do with Diane, in my head."
"I love you, too. That, that ... what would you call what we just did, anyway?"
"In the BDSM world, it's a scene. You know I did improv comedy in college? It felt like improv, but sexy and hot instead of funny."
Molly manages a smile again. "I'm pretty sure someone watching would think it was funny. Fat old Black me as an English schoolgirl! Did improv let you create that whole background and character in like a second? All that stuff just popped into your head?"
"Molly, it was your idea. It all built on your doing the schoolgirl voice and 'Sir, would you spank my naughty behind?' Everything else came from that. If you're a schoolgirl, I have to be someone who would spank a schoolgirl. I wanted to be the Big Bad Authority, so the Headmaster, not just a teacher. I've seen enough English movies to know how a stereotypical headmaster acts. I just exaggerated that. I've topped in the past, enough to know how to be intimidating but not actually threatening--the very last thing I wanted to do was scare you--and how to paddle someone for effect, not just bruising and pain." That was a very long speech, wasn't it?
"I really felt like I was just passively waiting to see what you would do to me next. I don't think I've ever felt quite like that, even with guys who liked to be in charge."
"You did the improv stuff just right. It must be instinct, if you never did improv. The basic rule is 'Yes, and.' You never say 'No' to anything your partner does in improv, that almost always ruins the sketch. You take what they hand you, and add to it. You gave me repentant schoolgirl. I added headmaster and paddle. You added the girl's being unsure of herself but willing to do anything to please the Headmaster. The rest was mostly physical stuff, and details, and your being just so astonishingly sexy I actually had a hard time breathing sometimes."
I pause. When she doesn't say anything, I continue. "Molly, you haven't said if you enjoyed it."
She actually laughs at me, fake-mockingly. "You were there! You know perfectly well how much I enjoyed it. You're just fishing for compliments!"
"Guilty. It was ... that blowjob you gave me was unique and wonderful and ... and. It was and. In terms of physical pleasure, that was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. The school spanking scene was satisfying in a different way, even before I was inside you. I complained before about not getting hugs and kisses from Di--I'm not minimizing, that stuff matters a lot--but you gave me another insight today. When Di and I ... Shit. Molly, I really don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I just realized that I'm comparing you to Diane, for real this time."
"Yes, you are. We're your wife and your lover, you're going to do that. I'm glad you're honest enough to admit it."
"In a way, I'm not comparing Di and Molly. I'm comparing Diane of now to Diane of five years ago, when we were courting and in the first year or so of our marriage. She was affectionate, she desired me, and she cared about me. Now, it's just gone. What made the spanked schoolgirl so fun was how you were in the moment with me, both of us feeding off what the other person did. It was intimate and challenging. It worked. We worked together. It was exhilarating, and that's how it was before I even touched you. The sex was great, but it was so great because we felt really close going into it."
"And Diane never gives you that." Molly sad again, but it's sad thing.
"I'm not sure I like the way you said that. You didn't give me anything. When you rescued me before, it definitely felt like the blow job was something you gave me. The scene was something we did, something we made together."
"You said before, you had a plan to get her to listen to you, to engage about your relationship? That was point 2, right?"
"Molly, are you available to join my project team? You remember that? Yeah, it was point 2. Let's talk about it ...."
TO BE CONTINUED IN "TOO FAR AND FARTHER"
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As always, I appreciate all comments. The best ones are suggestions on how it could be better! (Of course, saying, "This is perfect!" would also be OK. Not that I'm fishing for compliments like Ted....)
-Billie
- Diane's Dominant voice made Ted even harder, a clear indication of the roleplay they were engaged in.
- Ted's exhibitionism was a point of contention between him and Diane, as she did not approve of his lack of permission before doing so.
- The chastity tube was a punishment device used by Diane, preventing Ted from having an erection or orgasm for over a week.
- AliENATION of Affection was a potential legal issue, as Ted was sleepwalking and may have been unknowingly engaging in adultery or oral sex with another woman during his sleepwalking episodes.
- The roleplay between Ted and Diane often involved bondage and humiliation, which added an exciting layer to their romance.