Sharing Tales: Retelling Stories
"Hi Jack, come on in. I've been looking forward to tonight's story session. I'm eager to hear your thoughts on my story. Help yourself to a drink... and could you mix me a 7&7?"
"Done, and I'm feeling confident that I'll win tonight!"
Mary popped into the bathroom with a quick "Give me a minute and I'll be ready."
The anticipation of Mary's reaction to my story had kept me going. I truly believed in it, but I was also trying to spark something else. She knew the type of stories I enjoyed - edgy and naughty. Her stories tended to be more romantic, often exploring the intricacies of relationships. But I was certain she preferred the steamy ones. In our relationship, so far, we'd based it on an intellectual connection and an appreciation for each other's experiences. As 40-somethings, both of us were far from pasture.
Mary returned to her living room as I carried on: "I've been looking forward to your response to this story since I started crafting the basic idea."
My belief in my story was genuine, but also a way to ignite sparks. She sensed the kind of stories I liked best, and I hoped she was ready for more than a quick loo break.
"Shall we decide who tells the story first?" Mary asked.
"Sure," I said.
"Tails or heads?"
"C'mon, don't make it difficult like that! I'll take anything I can get!"
"Okay, fair enough, I'll toss it... and it's heads!" she said, quickly flipping a coin. "So, Jack, settle in and prepare for this one."
- Best-Laid Plans (Mary's Story) * * * * *
There I was, waiting in my hotel room, feeling insanely horny but about to have sex with someone I had known for merely a few hours... entirely different than what I had plotted. Instead of steering the usual course by choosing a man and then playing backseat driver, my script was ripped apart. Currently, I was in an unexpected role, and control seemed fleeting. Not only was I not the one choosing the person, but there was no man in sight! Instead, there was an exceptionally attractive woman...
The third and final day of the conference came to an end, leaving me with one more night in this swanky hotel - a perfect hunting ground. With three bars to choose from and no need to drive home, I opted for the first bar. I hadn't even made it halfway across the room when the cocktail waitress, Chris, approached me.
"Hello, I'm Chris. What would you like tonight?"
It was like watching someone describe their fender bender. "She appeared out of nowhere." I felt a sensation I'd never experienced before. It threw me off balance and made me feel somewhat unsteady.
"Hello. Hi, Chris. I'm Amy. Nice to meet you. I'll have a gin and tonic, please."
Thank goodness for automatic speech! As she returned to the bar, I took in her mesmerizing appearance. She moved so gracefully, her short skirt subtly pointing to an equally enticing backside. Strong legs hinted at a gymnast, steeling herself for a performance. I imagined a gymnast preparing for a floor routine. When she brought my drink, I got a better look at the rest of her: petite breasts, a slender waist above hints of buxom hips, wrapped up in a petite package that barely untopped 5 feet. She looked significantly younger than me, possibly mid-to-late 20's.
In my mind, I pictured a gymnast, readying herself for a floor routine.
During the second act, Chris approached me and insisted she thought I had shining qualities that could bring balance to her work-life and called me a "gem". She then thoroughly seduced me.
I had already left; I was just too overwhelmed to understand it at the time. During the next two drinks (and more of her attention than any client would usually receive), Chris and I had relaxed conversation before including some playful teasing. We eventually evolved into flirting openly. By the time Chris informed me her shift ended at 10 PM, it was already 9:40, and I realized I was quite drunk, but the alcohol had very little to do with it. Rejecting another drink, I shuddered inwardly at my weak joke about the bar's subpar room service, but her amused response made me feel better. I paid the bill with my room number and walked back to my room, feeling the need to calm myself and examine the situation.
To this point, I had never done anything with any other woman. Of course, curiosity had been present... could sex with another woman genuinely be better? Oral with someone who has firsthand experience of every aspect? Or did it have more to do with a specific emotional harmony, like a two-part melodic ensemble? As to why her - why Chris? The physical contrast was unquestionably enticing; me being 5'7" and now considered "curvy," often referred to as the classic "hourglass" shape. And Chris being much smaller, firm where I was flabby, and angular where I was round. Considering how our bodies would fit together -- the attractiveness of opposites -- was undeniably handsome! Though that was all true, at the core, it was simply a rather delicious frosting on top. For me, it was the energy she exuded. It felt as if it was filling a cavity within me. And it was an energy I'd never felt from another woman before. That's why I was drawn to Chris. Realizing this eased my confusion and instilled a sense of calm. No longer was I horny and anxious. I was now just horny and motivated!
The knocking finally arrived. "Room service!"
I chuckled as I opened the door. There she was, smiling back, so innocent. I stepped back a bit to allow her entry. The door closed behind her, and she moved without a word closer to me. Our eyes met as our hands slowly touched, sensing the energy, the electricity. I had the powerful urge to kiss her, but I withheld myself, partly due to the suffocating intensity of her tender touches seemingly threatening to overburden my senses. When our mouths did meet, I began pushing my tongue into hers, initiating the slow, sensual dance of exploration. Her body was so slim yet so firm -- the well-toned muscles shifting as her arms drew me in.
It was an exquisite kiss, more intense for me because it was my initial kiss with another woman. The kiss steadily increased in intensity and urge, my tongue becoming more controlling as our groping deepened with passion. She cupped my loaded boobs, appreciating their satisfying weight, and my hands slid under her skirt, estimating her keenly tight buns which sparked my passion initially. My body's juices were beginning to trickle inside me and my right hand traced the side of her panties, then slid inside, progressing downward and inward. Then, she suddenly withdrew, taking the hand I'd used to reach inside her, stopping me from continuing in that direction.
"Amy, there's something you should know." But she seemed nervous.
I couldn't bear it. "Chris, I'm so damn horny for you right now, whatever it is -- please just let it out!"
"My parents gave me the name Chris, but... it was not a shortened version of Christine."
For the second time tonight, I felt a disorienting confusion, as if I was drifting from my moorings. Why would she assume I'd mind what her full name was? Christina? Christianne? Forget the details! What I could only think of was, please just kiss me again!
"It was short for Christian." Her words hung suspended in the air.
And the last of my moorings gave way. I entered a swirl, losing my bearings. I stared blankly at her. She was announcing that she was... a trans woman. Her lips had grown tense, her eyes searching mine for a response. The combination of fear, anxiety, and hope showed in her expression. The first thing I felt was kindness. Kindness toward the person standing in front of me -- so exposed, so honest, so truthful. My confusion melted away, and I suddenly felt my heart swelling for this woman, who was undoubtedly a woman, regardless of what could be between her legs. I gently held her sweet face, gazing into her eyes.
"You're Chris to me, and I don't care if it's short for Christmas, I just want to unwrap my presents!"
"Her laughter erupted like a dam breaking, and then mine followed. Quickly, our laughter faded as our lips met. Hands tugged at clothes, buttons sprang free, and we collapsed on the bed. She latched onto my naked breast, pulling on my swollen nipple with her lips. Just then, I tried to remove her pants, but couldn't get them past her thighs without dislodging her mouth from my chest. Raising my leg, I hooked them with my toe and quickly pulled them down and off. Eagerly, she engulfed my nipple with her mouth while my hand found her genitals and gently cupped the area. Her member stiffened rapidly beneath my touch. Suddenly, she let go of my nipple and faintly groaned. Taking advantage of this, I dove onto her penis, swallowing every inch. It tickled my throat before reaching the back. Meanwhile, I massaged her testicles with one hand, all the while relishing the taste of her. Between her intense sucking and my pussy's ecstasy, my attention switched back and forth. I craved to suck her vulva and taste her release. But she shifted to gorgeously assault me with her tongue. This intense pleasure made it difficult for me to continue - I couldn't control the sensations. I finally pulled her away, and her face became clear.
"Holy shit, that feels amazing!" I could no longer maintain control and surrendered to her proficiency. Her tongue plunged deep into me, making me dizzy with pleasure as I closed my eyes.
"You seriously taste like a dream," she whispered while moving her tongue deep inside my core, lapping up every drop of fluid swarming within.
"I need to cum," I panted, "I really, really need it. Please suck my... my clitoris."
"If I don't take it out, will you cum?" But she didn't wait for my reply; she simply switched positions. Instead of suckling me like before, she slid her whole tongue inside of me in slow, circular movements. My hips bucked involuntarily as her mouth closed on me, depriving me of complete control. My muscles tightened as I felt on the verge of the epic orgasm I'd been craving. But then she relinquished her grip, making it nearly impossible to stop. I couldn't go on but seizure was close. Finally, I pushed her away gently, forcing her to break her hold on me in order to breathe. Panting, I attempted to still my shaking limbs before collapsing. "
Seeing this, she softly inquired, "Did I overstimulate you?" A surprised look of triumph crossed her face. "I wanted you to be on all fours."
My spine tingled, and instantly, I followed her instructions, legs splayed wide apart. In front of her, my breasts hung, jiggling with every movement. With great care, my lover's hand explored these new territory. As her fingers traced the line of my bust, she slowly, lovingly fondled them. She then slowly stood behind me, straddling my feet. Encouraged by this new posture, her hand rubbed my secret spot.
"Relax and lower your shoulder blades," she said softly, clearly the dominant one at this time.
I obeyed, stretching my legs wider for additional balance as I prepared for her intrusion.
"Holy moly!" she gasped. "I knew I loved your broad hips. I've wanted them since I first saw you. But this stunning ass is the cherry on top! Simply divine!"
The head of her penetrating object neared my awaiting hole. Gently, inching in, she met with minimal resistance.
"No, this can't be possible!" This was far better than I had ever imagined.
With knowing eyes, she asked, "You do have toys at home, yes? The kind similar to this one?"
"Yes, but-"
"The one you're currently thinking of is of the ideal size for me." As she examined my buttocks, she whispered in my ear, "I want you bent over, shaking a delightful ass," before comforting me with a kiss. "This would make for a spectacular view of your body."
I hesitated, confused, until I saw a spark in her eyes and heard her urgently whisper, "Come here, and let's try out the next position."
My entire body quivered as I wished to experience the misunderstood anal pleasure I'd desired. And so, I moved into the position we'd been discussing - on all fours. This brought my posterior up and caused my chest to fall. Excited, she then gently began to apply pressure to my narrow muscular entryway. She pressed with her fingers, expanding my anal opening incrementally.
"Ha! That one landed! So, do you have any questions?" Mary inquired, fully aware that they would be coming. This had become a standard follow-up after reading writing critiques. The main focus was to find out more about the author.
"How much of that actually happened? I know you've been with women before, but what about trans women?" someone questioned.
"No," Mary replied, "the opportunity never arose."
"Alright, and anal play. You've mentioned using various toys, but have you ever tried someone alive? Did you take a penis up your ass, Mary?"
"Yes."
I tried to get a blush out of her, but instead I received a half smile and a wistful look. I took note of this for future use. "Have you ever experienced the desire for complete control in relationships? Someone who's used to a typical degree of autonomy wanting more?"
Mary paused and contemplated. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I've never entered into a relationship with such a deliberate plan like Amanda did."
I sensed there was more, so I waited.
"There have been times when I've encouraged certain... let's say, escalations? You know, maybe a subtle hint or a gentle prod to encourage something down south? Sometimes it works out great, but other times there's hesitation or resistance. And, of course, you just let it go and follow through with the course you're on. And occasionally, there's the letdown of not experiencing the feeling you'd hoped for. But, what I find more disappointing is missing out on the sensation of giving into someone else's control."
"I can relate," I said, "I'm not the only one who learned something from your story."
"All right, we're done with the psychoanalysis," Mary announced. "It's time for Jack's story, right?"
* * * Reunion (Jack's Story) * * * *
Picking up my notebook, I began reading aloud as Mary sipped her drink and settled onto the sofa.
"So, Allen, in our previous session, you discussed your upcoming ten-year high school reunion and your anxiety about reconnecting with a specific female friend. I'd like to delve further into these emotions. Was this a purely platonic relationship, as you stated?"
"Yes, Dr. Marx, it was. If you ask Sharon, she would confirm this without hesitation."
"How about from your own perspective? Do you consider that a true representation?"
"Yes, but... I couldn't quite put it into words. I reflected on the nights I spent with Sharon, smoking weed with her, driving around aimlessly in her car with no destination, sharing our day-to-day experiences. If you were in the backseat listening, you'd probably agree that 'platonic' fits appropriately. But, had you seen me in my bedroom afterward, with Sharon gone, you might have wondered: how long until this boy loses control and hurts himself?"
In my fantasies, I pictured myself as Sharon's boyfriend, embracing her tightly, thrusting my pathetic little dick into her bushy pussy until she begged for release. The image was particularly amusing, considering the reality of who I was: an average-height male with a thin frame and a meek demeanor. In comparison, Sharon's real-life boyfriend was a year older and a total hunk. A former varsity athlete and a current Golden Gloves boxing champion, making decent money at the local steel mill, and undoubtedly well-endowed.
"I guess if I had to summarize, I'd call it 'unrequited love' on my part," I said, cringing at the overused cliché.
"So, you had feelings for this woman."
"Woman... ha. While Sharon was certainly in high school, she was a fully mature adult in every other aspect - physically and emotionally. With a self-assuredness that allowed her to tackle any situation."
"OK, so you had feelings for this woman."
"Yes, I did," I confessed, struggling to maintain composure.
"Did you ever express these feelings to her?"
"Once," as my blush betrayed me.
"She gave me a hard "no"! Well, to put it more accurately, she set me back in my place. Firmly." I've replayed this moment in my head countless times. My approach had been vague and weak. "Essentially, I told her that I enjoyed our time together, but I wanted more from it. Luckily, she stopped me before I could make a bigger fool of myself and told me directly that our relationship would stay as is. She offered me a choice: maintain things as they were, or we would no longer spend any private time together."
"What did you pick?"
"I folded like a flimsy piece of clothing. We never talked about it again after that."
"Do you feel anxious about meeting Sharon again? Why?"
"I've pondered the 'what ifs.' What if I could have done something different? What if I could have had more? Back then, my sexual desires were confined by the traditional expectations of a heterosexual relationship. Even my fantasies mirrored that youthful innocence. Now, I'm not that naive high school boy."
"Let's discuss self-acceptance, Allen. It's important for your progress. You know that society often looks down on those like you. But that doesn't mean you should limit yourself to professional Dommes or blindly wait for someone to see you for what you are. Allow me to refresh your memory: How did your friendship with Sharon start?"
I recounted how Sharon and I had been close since school. How we had worked on the school newspaper. How she had initiated our late-night drives as a way for her to unwind. He reflected for a moment, connecting the dots.
Sharon, in my view, is a 'social Domme.' To the vanilla world, she would be known as a 'take-charge person.' Someone who knows what they want and doesn't let anything stand in their way. She shut down my attempt to redefine our relationship and did so without mercy. She even had a confidence that let her navigate any situation. This type of person often only displays dominance in social situations. Even those who crave sexual control may never discover their innate nature due to a lack of opportunity or a lack of interest in exploring sexually. Basically, Sharon could be considered a 'latent Domme.'
Before my flight to my hometown for the reunion, I had three days to think about this. Huge uncertainties abounded. What had happened to Sharon since then? Had she ever investigated new interests? Were there even any lingering desires waiting to be ignited?
As I landed in my hometown, I checked into the hotel hosting the reunion. The next day had a strangely mundane atmosphere - I drove around town to revisit old haunts. Despite this, my anxiety grew.
The following day, I arrived at the hotel with plenty of time to prepare for the event. I spoke with old friends and their spouses, but Sharon was nowhere in sight. Then I noticed her standing alone near the back of the hall. My heart beat faster - she looked stunning! She wore a sleek white blouse over a short black skirt, sheer black stockings, and 3-inch heels. [
"It was like she hadn't aged a day," Dr. Marx murmured, his eyes filling with compassion as he thought back to the conversation. "Imagine if she had changed in some way? Gained some weight, cut her hair?" He glanced up from his notes. "You had no idea how she may have evolved."
Allen exhaled slowly. "That's all part of the uncertainty," he said. "Will she have become what I desire? Or will she still be the sickly sweet girl who would lead me on when I just wanted her to be my Domme? I've spent years analyzing our relationship and wondering how she might have changed. On one hand, the thought of her not being what I hope she is terrifies me. On the other, the fear of uncovering someone who is tainted by the realities of life weighs on me."
"It's normal to be conflicted," he reassured Allen. "I can see why she frightened you before. She's a rare breed: a strong-willed woman with the ability to control things around her. But her fearlessness might not necessarily extend into sexual exploration."
"What if she had moved on? Married someone? Is there even any potential attraction left?" Allen pressed. "I'm guessing there were women during those years, but did she explore her desires? Was Sharon destined to simply be a selfish friend who led me on for her own satisfaction?"
"No one can answer those questions for you except Sharon. Our past experiences shade our perceptions, coloring the lenses through which we filter the present. Imagine if you'd met her now, as you are now. What would you see? Would you envision shadows or light?"
Allen thought about the merit in his words. "At the heart, I still want her. And her natural strength must have been what drew me in. I could fall so deeply in love with her, but will she even remember me?"
"Love is unpredictable," Dr. Marx replied. "It's impossible to know its trajectory. The only way to find out is by experiencing it."
"Perhaps you're right," Allen reflected. "So what do I do now?"
"Be yourself. If you want her to remember you as more than just a friend, act like the person you are now. Those years you've spent growing and exploring yourself - they make you who you are. What if she recognizes that and it brings back the feelings you both shared?"
"You mean, be more direct?"
"Precisely," Dr. Marx nodded. "That'll be your first step. What path you choose after that is up to you."
I broke free from the group I was with and made my way to her as she did the same, joining the line at the bar. I then approached her from behind, appreciating her curvy calves and wide hips that flowed into her slender waist.
"Hey, it's Sharon! Long time no see!" I thought to myself, somewhat disappointed with my choice of words.
She turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. "Allen Anders, so nice to see you again!" She leaned in for a hug, flooding me with the scent of her hair.
After a brief hug, there was some small talk while we ordered our drinks. I tried to regain control of my senses.
"Let's find a table and catch up," she suggested, leading me to an empty one near the wall.
During our catch-up conversation, there were announcements, the introduction of the band, recognizing the organization committee, a light dinner, and a group photo. I moved from table to table to ensure I wasn't spending too much time with Sharon, not wanting to seem desperate. But as the scheduled events concluded, we found ourselves back together.
Sharon began, "It feels like I've caught up on you, and you haven't really told me what you've been up to. Besides the fact that you're still single like me."
"No, I'm not seeing anyone right now. I had a year-long relationship that was intense, so after it ended, I thought I needed some time to myself. I've even been seeing a therapist, working through things."
"That must be interesting," she said. "You mentioned the word 'intense' before. Can you elaborate?"
Taking a deep breath, I plunged in, "To start, it was pretty normal. Like any relationship, you know? Easily trusting, following her lead."
"Oh, I think I understand, but please continue," she said, curious.
"Well, it became something else. I found myself doing things for her pleasure, like foot massages and full body massages. Which was great, because I loved making her happy."
"Sounds more like sex than massage!" she teased.
"Yeah, it was sexual, but not in the conventional sense. I served her like a slave. A sex slave." The words lingered in the air, leaving me anxious about her reaction. But she just set her hand on mine, encouraging me to continue.
"Sexual worship," I clarified.
"You served her as a sex slave?" she asked, her cheeks flushing.
"Yes, eventually. But it was more mutual than you might think. When she saw my heart wasn't into it, she ended it."
"Once that happened, it was over?" [
"Yes, it ended that way. I aimed to end it, but in reality, it was more mutual. I guess even someone as selfish as her couldn't handle less than full enthusiasm."
"But it was a good experience for you?" she questioned.
"Yes, at first. She pushed me to open up and try new things I never thought I wanted."
"Tell me more about the things you tried," she urged.
"At the beginning, it was just little things, like massages or serving her. They made her happy, so I enjoyed it. It felt good to please her. But it eventually became more intense."
"So what did you do?" she asked, maintaining a keen interest.
"Uhh, it's... it's hard to say. It was... it was amazing. I gave myself to her completely. Every little thing she wanted, I did it."
"There must have been some things you did that stand out," she pressed.
"I don't think there's any way to summarize it," I replied, growing nervous.
"What KIND of things did you do, Allen?" she insisted.
"Umm... I worshipped her. Worshipped her with my body, sexually." It was all out there now. Her expression made it unclear if she was disappointed, intrigued, or something else.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "When I had the chance to focus solely on her pleasure, when I could give myself entirely to her physical satisfaction, I felt more complete and satisfied than I ever have before."
"I'm starting to get the picture Allen, and it's possible I'm just imagining it, but there seems to be a lot of oral sex going on. Was there also intercourse?"
"I didn't penetrate her, if that's what you mean." I blushed again.
There it was again - that look in her eyes. This time, the arousal was undeniable and thrilling!
"Do you have a room here tonight, Allen?"
"Y...y...yes"
"What's your room number?"
"1216"
"Alright. No goodbyes for you, pal. Go pretend you're going to the restroom, then leave and go to your room. I'll try to make it there as soon as I can escape."
As directed, I did as I was instructed.
Three minutes later, I'm in my room, anxiously waiting. There's nothing noteworthy in this room to pass the time, except for a mini-fridge. It doesn't take long for me to finish off a tiny bottle of vodka, but a little liquid courage might help. Once that was washed down, my only alternative was to pace back and forth, staring out the window across the courtyard at the opposite wing of the hotel. A knock finally appeared, and I somewhat eagerly opened the door.
"Um, hi," I squeaked, moving aside to allow her to enter.
Catching a glimpse of her ample breasts as they swayed under her sheer blouse, her nipples clearly visible, it wasn't difficult to see her intention. She had removed her bra! Pace yourself, blocked out her face as I hurried to close the door.
"Strip - I want you completely naked!"
I quickly removed my shoes and socks, then hastily pulled off my shirt, looking like a triathlete heading to swim.
"Relax," she cooed, "no need to rush. Some things taste best when savored. Continue -- more slowly."
Unbuttoning my pants, pulling down my zipper. She understood this position thoroughly, and so did I. As my pants fell to the floor and I stepped out of them, I sensed her focus on my exposed body. Feeding off me, she savoring my embarrassment, her eyes bore into mine. I gulped, insecure about her regards toward my modest genitalia.
"Dear, consider us surely aware of what you've got between your legs. Here's a term to use when describing it. Attempt this again with a descriptor, Allen."
"It's my...um... penis, Mistress."
Her eyes beamed, locking with mine, then down her voice grew stern. "You will refer to me as Mistress or Mother -- your preference. Now attempt again with a descriptor, Allen."
"It's my small penis, Mistress."
"Good effort. Now, what other word might describe your member Allen? Brainstorm, use other words you know.
"Umm... umm... petite penis? Teeny cock? Lady's dildo? Snaily-wiener?"
She paused, scrutinizing before complaining, "Keep trying..."
"Winky? Smallman? Cocklette?" Oh my God, how many more could there be? "Himbo? Poodle?"
"Aware of phallic descriptions, are you? I could call you 'peenie' as well. Allen, you become my 'peenie' boy. Step nearer the window, show your little 'peenie' to the guests out there. Hands at your sides - don't you dare cover it!"
I stood, inside and out, facing the window, whispering my doubts into the darkness as I assumed my exhibitionist position. I worried about who might have witnessed my nakedness. But the majority of the rooms across the way were dark, and only a select few had drapes open. This ordeal was agonizing, but the possibility of someone watching was unlikely. Then, the room's lights went off and back on again. I heard her chuckle softly as she joined me, placing herself over my shoulder, concerning herself with the disclosure at hand.
"Was that attractive to anyone?" [two]
I scanned the lit windows nervously. I noticed curtains moving in one room and the lights turning off in another. It felt quite possible that we now had a hidden spectator.
"Now, little one, play with yourself. Show them all how big your tiny dick can get."
I obeyed, pinching myself with two fingers and swaying my tiny, lifeless worm as she spoke in my ear.
"How does it feel, knowing strangers are watching you right now?"
"It's embarrassing, Ma'am."
"You know what?" she pondered, "There might be some of your classmates watching too! You're not the only one who's here for the reunion. You might have some familiar faces."
"Uhhh..." I shivered at the idea.
"Remember when we worked on the school newsletter together? When we learned the five Ws? Every good story should include who, what, when, where, and why. Now, take your time and narrate your story for me."
I tried to collect my thoughts. She wanted me to answer all five Ws. I had to cover all of them. I stammered out:
"My name is Allen Anders and... I'm a little boy. I am now, and I always will be just a little boy. Here I am, showing off my tiny dick so everyone knows who I am." The tears welling up in my eyes overflowed, and my humiliation reached its peak.
"Good job, Allen. Very good job." She stroked the back of my head before wrapping her arms around me, comforting me. As her soothing voice calmed my chaotic emotions, her hand slid down and began fondling my dick. Now held firmly by her, she led me across the room and placed me in front of a large, upholstered chair. She settled into it, cross-legged, her skirt rising to reveal the garters that held up those black stockings.
"Kneel," she commanded.
I knelt at her feet and lowered my head.
"Come now, don't be sad about being a little boy. You should embrace it! You see, little boy, you've even lost your erection. Play with your penis again, make it stand at attention and beg for me. You can stare at my legs if it helps."
I realized she was right. While I may be insufficient as a man, I still held value. I knew I did. And I was here because I wanted her to see that. And it seemed like maybe she did. I fapped desperately, staring at her luscious legs.
"Stop! What do we have here." She was checking out the size of my tiny dick. "It's about how long? Five inches?"
"Five and a quarter inches, Ma'am," proud of my pathetic length.
"Oh my, five and a quarter inches! Wow! I'll bet you get rather excited about that!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"That's adorable!" She then removed a shoe and began to raise her foot toward my groin.
Oh God, no! I thought -- is she going to kick me in the balls? I started to panic. Please no! I don't want pain! Please let me serve you!
Her leg was now at the height of my groin, causing her skirt to slide further up her leg. I caught a glimpse of black panties, then felt her foot skim from the base of my dick to the tip. Pausing there, she slid her big toe across the tip, capturing the large drop of pre-cum that had formed. She moved her foot in front of my face.
"Clean it, little boy -- suck my toe."
A wave of relief flooded me. I was on familiar ground. I knew what was expected of me, and I was more than happy to obey. This was what I desired -- what I needed. I hungrily licked at her slimy toe, then I carefully, worshipfully cupped the arch of her foot in my hands and brought it to my face. Rubbing her foot against my cheek, I inhaled deeply. Relief filled me, and I let out a sigh of contentment. I began my oral worship.
As I looked up her smooth leg, the way to paradise lay before me, and I relished every step along the way. I glided my tongue up and down her arch, then circled her ankle. My hands ascended from her foot so I could stroke her sleek calf with both, gently massaging the solid muscle. I showered kisses on her calf until I reached the back of her knee, where once more I inhaled deeply. Light-headed, my tongue carried on its quest to the promised land as my head entered the darkness beneath her skirt. I sensed her thighs against my ears, and the first scent of her permeated my senses, branding itself on me like a newborn with its mother. I even felt like a newborn... I had become a reborn submissive!
I had reached the altar. I was breathing hard because of the excessive deep breaths. Using the tip of my tongue, I slowly traced the border of her panties -- up the right side, then down the left. Feeling the moisture at the center, I flirted with it. A tentative lick, then a longer lick, then stronger, until I was sucking fiercely, trying to coax her moisture from the soaked gusset. Tensing my tongue, I pressed it underneath, this time targeting her lips.
My worship was halted by a hand pushing against my forehead. She released a button at the waist and removed her skirt, her panties following close behind. Before she could throw them away, I made a surprisingly brave move -- I reached for her hand and took her panties. Instantly understanding my mistake, I stopped my own hand from heading towards my face and looked at her questioningly. My kind goddess nodded her approval, and I flipped the gusset inside out, inhaling the scent and licking the mess inside. She chuckled and said:
"Are you my panty boy, darling?"
Not exactly, I thought, but I'm not about to argue. This isn't the moment for nitpicking. My gaze shifted to the spot I craved. I asked, "May I, Mistress?"
"Lick this," she said simply.
I headed back between her legs as she pulled her feet up onto the armrests, spreading her legs for me. I stuck my nose in to immerse my whole face in her slippery pussy. I plunged in, seeking to coat myself in her liquids. Then I went to work on her outer lips, moving in circles. One finger found its place inside her, not pushing in, but applying enough pressure to enhance her anticipation. I continued moving around my newly discovered world, winding my tongue in circles, the tip almost brushing her still unseen clit.
My service was disrupted by a hand pushing down on my forehead. She undid a button at the waist, removed her skirt, and took off her panties as well. Before tossing them, I made a daring decision - I took her hand and grasped the wet panties. Realizing what I was doing, I stopped my hand from reaching my face but looked up at her with hope in my eyes. She nodded her approval, and I turned the saturated portion inside out, taking in the taste and savoring it. She glanced at them and laughed.
"Do you like panties?" she teased.
Not quite, I thought to myself, but who was I to dispute when there were other attractions, like her beautiful pussy lips. The panties slid from my grip as I fixed my gaze on my goal. "May I, Mistress?"
"Lick her," she instructed.
I returned to her thighs, readying myself for what I'd been anticipating. I buried my nose in her hairy landing strip, relishing the combination of slick pussy and indistinguishable sweat. I ground my face in, hungry for her juices. Then I worked on her outer lips, running in circles, grazing the top which was still covered by her hood-like clit. I probed with one finger, tapping at her entrance, teasing her. Then I started to penetrate, my technique abandoned in favor of hunger.
I pulled my fingers out and returned them to her lips, spreading her open. I slid back down to her clit and licked and slurped, soaking her pussy. Her sounds shifted from incoherent groans to words, pleading for me to consume her. I lapped at her, flickering my tongue around her sensitive parts. Her cries resembled demands for resistance as they climbed and fell along the scale. I ignored her pleas for clemency and persisted, sucking on her clit as my arms wrapped around her thighs, my face enduring her rapacious hip movements.
At last, the intensity of her cries fell off, and her movements became erratic quivers. I stopped lapping, savoring her moist love juices. I left her pelvis, my face supporting her quaking hips as our bodies calmed. Our heart rates and breathing returned to normal, and the endorphin-induced rush passed.
I looked up and she gestured to me. I climbed into her lap, making sure to put most of my weight on the chair's arms. She held my face with both hands and kissed me passionately, before lazily unfastening her blouse, baring her breasts, and urging me to suckle. I took the proffered nipple in my mouth and found my new favorite spot.
"Who's my sweet little pussy boy?" she cooed as she stroked my hair.
I stepped away from her nipple for a moment to reassure her.
"I'm your mommy. I'm your cute little pussyboy."
She softly patted my head.
"Yes, you are. Good boy."
After reading the last line, I looked up from my notebook and observed that Mary's face had turned pink. Her legs were tightly folded together, and she was subtlety rocking back and forth. She snapped out of it when she noticed that I had finished reading and was now looking at her. Ohhh Mary, I've got you!
"Wow Jack, well done! What a fantastic -... umm, story," she stammered.
"So, how much of it was inspired by you, and what about the CFNM and SPH aspects?"
"Yes," I replied.
"And the worship?"
"No, I just added that in, thought it'd be appropriate."
"It seems you have also touched upon the concept of a platonic friendship where one party discovers a shared kink and uses it to inject a sexual element into the relationship."
"I've never experienced it myself," I admitted.
"Oh," said Mary, noticing my tense change. She saw that I regarded it as a possibility in real life.
"Well, Jack, I'm giving you the win here so we can go straight into the critique. However, I need another drink before we begin. You?"
"Yes, please, that would be great."
Mary headed to the kitchen while I weighed my options. This was my very own Rubicon, and the decision was imminent. I promptly removed my clothes and took my spot in the middle of the room. I tried to calm my racing heart while I awaited her arrival. As she made her way back, she spoke.
"I believe to provide a thorough critique, I require a better understanding of a specific part of your story."
"And which part would that be? The CFNM?" I suggested with a slight grin.
She glanced up at me and her poise had returned, along with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. She picked up a pillow and tossed it on the floor at her feet.
"No Jack, that element would be...
... worship."
Obediently, I complied.