Urges
Introduction:
This happened long ago–sort of, anyway, as you will see. Names have been changed, along with several details. The primaries in this story already know who they are, so any resemblance to you or anyone you know is almost certainly totally coincidental.
I was shaky when I stood up from the keyboard. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Her response was swift, arriving before the adrenaline wore off. She didn’t know I could be that assertive. After acknowledging her surprise, she played the proper submissive and promised to follow my instructions. We would meet in less than 24 hours.
I loved my wife, so I couldn’t tell her about my game with Sharon. She wouldn’t have understood, but I was merely playing a game. I knew I wouldn’t step over the line into infidelity. Even so, that night, I could not stop fidgeting. My cheeks felt like they would burst into flame, as I tried to suppress the emotions I set loose earlier that day. I had let loose a beast within, freeing it from its chains. It awoke from its long slumber, and it demanded respect. My bones nearly ached with the need to command.
I arrived at 10:55, and Sharon already had a table. She stood up to give me a friendly hug, leaning into me a bit more than normal and much more than necessary. I told myself that it was the only way she could give me a proper hug, as her breasts really were in the way. It was still suggestive, even if she had intended otherwise, which she hadn’t. I knew that her chest was big, but saying 38DDDD or 40GG or 42H, or whatever her size was that year, was meaningless to me. I never bothered to remember the size when she told me.
“Hi,” she purred. “I hope it’s okay that I’m early.” When she stepped back, I saw that she was taller than I remembered. I always forgot that she was only an inch or two shorter than me, but I missed nothing this time. Her frame was quite a bit softer than when I first met her so many years ago, but it simply made her curvy. I knew she was concerned about her weight, but her form didn’t hurt my eyes any. Her lips were equally full, and I briefly considered kissing them. Her hair was a light brunette, bordering on red, and fell just past her shoulders. I realized that her lingering scent was from her floral shampoo. Her skirt was tan, a suede number that fell just above the knee, looking quite classy and revealing nothing. Her blouse was black with gold flecks that decorated the heavy cotton quite nicely. To my disappointment, I saw that her blouse was fully opaque, completely concealing her otherwise ample cleavage. The neckline, however, hinted at what was hidden below while also highlighting her soft ivory skin. It was early fall and quite warm, and I had fancied that since she was equally excited about today. I expected her apparel would reflect either the temperature or her excitement, so I was unsettled by her choice of clothing.
“Do you like?” she said, motioning to her clothes. Before I could respond, she quietly continued, “I was going to dress sexier, but you said you didn’t want me to draw attention.” It wasn’t what I had actually said at all, but she was definitely not alarming any families. Regardless, her smile had a slyness that started to give me back a measure of my composure. “I’m sorry, but I don’t actually have any sexy bras. I’m wearing the nicest one I have though.” Realizing she was still concerned about following my instructions, I found more of my confidence from the previous day.
“Technically, I only said it had to be your nicest bra,” I said as we slid into our booth. “So, you followed my instructions to the letter.”
“You can’t say that for sure though, can you?” A sly smile spread across her luscious lips. I realized she was talking about her underwear, and my composure began to fade again. What was I doing? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t even sure how to play this game, much less what I wanted to achieve. I was suddenly glad for the table between us.
“No, I suppose not,” I answered meekly.
She paused, and her sly smile faded. She eyed me critically. “You know, you can’t really be my master. It isn’t something you can just do part-time, every few weeks.”
Oddly enough, the statement relieved me. We really were just playing. I didn’t need to be in complete control. I managed to force a smile and said, “I know.”
“Now, Evan is more what I’m talking about, but his wife won’t let him be my master. Besides, they live too far away. Have I told you about Evan and Stephanie?”
With that, Sharon launched into her story of Evan and Stephanie, and their liaisons. Her friends were visiting from Atlanta earlier that month, and they discovered, after some drinks, that they shared the same kinks. The rest of their weeklong visit was punctuated by Sharon playing slave to both Stephanie and Evan, although Evan was the master. To Sharon’s disappointment, she was not given any release and was only allowed to service Stephanie. “Neither of them ever touched me. I just had to watch them and play with myself,” she complained. “And lick Stephanie, when she needed to cum.” Both of her friends ordered her about, she explained, but Evan was not allowed to do anything to Sharon. Stephanie kept at least that much power over her man.
The afternoon before they returned to Atlanta, Stephanie went out shopping, leaving Evan alone with Sharon. At first, they just talked, fully clothed, but the conversation soon turned to how Evan was tempted by Sharon. Of course, he wasn’t willing to do anything about it without Stephanie’s approval, but he still told Sharon about what he wanted to do with her given the chance. Seeing her opening, Sharon decided to take her sexual frustrations out on Evan.
“So, you want me?” she asked, slipping out of her seat.
“Yes, but I won’t do anything,” he replied firmly as she advanced.
“Are you sure?” she whispered, as she slid next to his chair.
He paused. As his resolve faded, his answer caught in his throat. “Y- yes.”
Sucking his fingers between her pouty lips, she cooed, “That’s too bad.” When he did not pull away, she stood up and slipped her shirt and bra over her head. Her bosom bounced free, grazing the side of his face as it did. She slid over to the front of his chair and began crawling up his body, while he sat paralyzed. As her breasts slid over his groin, she cast her large brown eyes up into his and asked, “So, are you the master, or is she?”
“I am,” he responded as firmly as he could, though clearly uncomfortable and uncertain about the turn of events.
Through his shirt, she teased his nipples with her tongue before slowly licking her way up his neck and to his chin. “If you say so,” she whispered as she brought her lips to his, gazing into his eyes as the tips of their noses touched, “but you still can’t have these, can you?” She leaned back slightly and then pushed the weight of her breasts up to his face, her nipples flitting briefly past his lips. She shook them gently, and he watched them as if in a trance, his lips parting in hopeful anticipation. Chuckling silently to herself, she withdrew, standing just long enough to seductively push off her pants and underwear before climbing onto his lap. She felt his manhood rigid under his pants, pressing against her naked sex. She slowly shifted her hips back and forth across his lap, grinding herself into his manhood as her tongue slithered around his ear. Finally, she breathed huskily, “I suppose you can’t have the rest of me either, can you?”
With a swiftness that frightened her, he stood up, dumping her to the floor. His discomfort and uncertainty were replaced by a look of pure rage. He grabbed her arm, and literally dragged her to the bedroom, throwing her face down onto the bed. Sharon smiled as Evan’s knee met her back, pushing her further into the bed. She heard him unbuckle his belt, and then the sound of his pants falling to the floor. He pulled her head up by the hair and bit her painfully on the ear to make sure he had her attention. With a fierceness to match his rage, he growled, “You won’t tell her about this EVER! Do you understand?”
Sharon managed to gasp “Yes!” before she was thrown back into the bed. She managed to turn herself over just as Evan stepped free of his pants. He grabbed her hair again and dragged her off the bed. She came to a stop in front of him, in a kneeling position, and he shifted his grip from her hair to the sides of her head. Knowing what was next, Sharon opened her mouth. He impaled himself down her throat, repeatedly, until he came.
Sharon sputtered and coughed as she tried and failed to catch her breath, her arm and ear and scalp still hurting, but she glowed with pleasure. Once Evan caught his own breath, he pulled up his pants, and calmly restated, “Stephanie will never know about this. It never happened.” Sharon readily agreed. She never got her release, but it no longer mattered. She had what she wanted. She won!
After dinner, Evan and Stephanie finished packing. They all kissed goodbye, and Sharon was alone once more.
“I masturbated myself raw that night!” Sharon finished her story excitedly, growing louder than the hushed tone she had used for the rest of the story. I looked around, but no one had noticed. No one else was paying any attention. My cheeks felt warm from listening to her story, and Sharon was clearly affected as well. She returned to her hushed tones as she gushed again about how wonderful it was that Evan bit her ear. I didn’t really understand, except that it was part of her power play with Evan and she was claiming victory. My attention began to wander to how I could find out if Sharon was wearing the right underwear.
In my mind’s eye, I said, “Stop.” Quietly, forcefully, the words echoed between us. In that dream, no one else heard. Sharon looked at me quizzically but obeyed.
“Take off your underwear. Now.”
She looked confused, but smiled as she asked, “How?” I shrugged, and she giggled. Her hands went beneath the table, and she leaned forward suddenly. Her breasts were crushed into the table, clearly in the way. Then, just as suddenly, she leaned back. Pressing her shoulders against the back of her booth, she arched her back slightly to lift herself off the seat. She shifted to her left, then to her right, her hands still beneath the table as she squirmed. Suddenly, she leaned forward again, crushing her breasts into the table once more, and more than I thought possible. Her cheeks were red from the exertion, or maybe the excitement, and that sly smile returned to her lips. She finally sat up normally, though hunched conspiratorially toward me, and glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one noticed before putting her hands on the table. Shielding its contents from the room, her right hand opened to reveal a wadded ball of red satin.
But then what? The restaurant was too public, and I was too worked up to think straight. Sharon was still gushing over what happened with Evan: how his manhood felt in her throat; how her ear still tingled; how much she liked being thrown onto the bed. In my mind’s eye, I started over.
“I still don’t know if you followed my instructions,” I tried again. “Go to the restroom and take off your underwear.”
She blushed at my interruption, and her eyes twinkled as she stood up. She sauntered down the aisle to the restrooms with a little extra swing of the hips, clearly intended for my entertainment. It seemed both an eternity and a moment before she returned down the aisle, bits of red satin showing between the fingers of her right hand. She handed them to me before sitting down. I opened my hand just enough to see that she had complied, and then closed it again, feeling the satin, still warm from her thighs, crush beneath my grip.
She sat back down and leaned back in her booth. Though I could not see it, I knew she was spreading her legs under the table, safe from prying eyes. Gathering her hair up into her hands, she cooed, “Your turn.”
It still wasn’t right, so I erased the thought. Perhaps if I had her masturbate in her underwear first? No. I knew it wouldn’t work. In spite of my fantasies to the contrary, I was no longer in control. Only a minute had gone by, and Sharon was still talking about Evan. I asked her a few questions, first about Evan and then about Stephanie, just to keep the conversation going. I didn’t know what to do next, but I did not want the fantasy to end so soon either. I was too flushed to give up, but I knew it was too late. The server came with the bill, and I wondered if Sharon could see how undone I was. Instead of answering my unspoken question, she insisted on paying. I could not find my voice to argue.
Instead, I croaked hopefully, “Where to now?”
I knew it was a bad idea, but it really was the only logical place to go. We still wanted to talk, and the conversation we were having required at least a semi-private place. Sharon’s house was much closer than mine, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else that fit the bill. Besides, I hadn’t seen her new place before. I collected myself on the drive over. I reassured myself that nothing was going to happen. It was for the best. My confidence actually soared once I decided that the game was probably over. I pulled up behind her car as Sharon was getting out, and it was obvious that she had calmed down as well.
Walking up to her townhome, I admired the classic architecture, freshly painted in primary colors. I couldn’t decide if it was trying to imitate Old Charleston or Old Boston, with its wrap-around porch and colonial railings. Inside, it was quite spacious, with a second floor balcony overlooking the living room. The living room got most of its light from second floor windows, making it very comfortable–and very private, provided that no one else was home. And no one else was home. I was irrationally thankful that the bedrooms were all upstairs. Aside from a large kitchen and small bathroom, the main floor was comprised of only the living room and a study. The study was immediately off the living room, separated by two large sliding doors, which is where Sharon concluded my tour. As she closed the doors, I saw an icon on the computer screen was flashing. Sharon followed my gaze.
“That’s just my online chat buddy,” she said, her wicked smile returning as we made our way to the living room couch. “He’s been ordering me around, too. I told him about you though, and he ordered me to do whatever you say today.”
I was surprised, but I don’t think I showed it. The game wasn’t over after all, I knew, but I was still composed from the drive over. My heart skipped a beat, and I asked myself what I wanted out of it. What did I want her to do? What would I order her to do?
My throat felt dry, but I found my voice easily, “I thought you didn’t have a master.”
“Oh, he lives in Quebec. We’re just playing,” she smiled. Her voice was dismissive, but her eyes told me to ask her more.
“So, what does he have you do?”
“Well,” she began with a naughty grin. “Yesterday, he had me masturbate in my cubicle at work.”
I didn’t try to hide my surprise. “Did you?”
“It was really hard to keep quiet!” she giggled, blushing slightly.
“I’m sure it was. What else?”
“I had a date last weekend, and he wanted me to blow the guy. The date didn’t go well though, so I couldn’t follow through.” Her eyes twinkled as she giggled again. “Of course, I had to be punished!”
“How does that work, if he’s in Quebec?” I asked incredulously.
“Not very well,” she admitted, her smile fading a bit. “I had to do it myself, and I couldn’t reach around well enough to spank myself with any force. So, I had to use my hair brush. It felt good…” She dragged out the word, and her cheeks flushed at the memory.
My chest tightened, tingling slightly. The opportunity was in front of me. I simply had to decide what I wanted, and I would probably get it.
“He also made me take pictures of myself. Would you like to see them?” Sharon teased.
Not wanting to sound too eager, though I clearly was, I replied in the most boring tone I could conjure, “Sure.”
We went back into the study, and she stood beside the keyboard as she pulled up folders on the computer. “Sit!” she encouraged, gesturing to the lone office chair. I did as she wished just as a picture opened on the screen. An image of Sharon was staring back at me with a come-hither look, a small pink plastic vibrator at her lips. The picture changed suddenly, and she was leaning over, her pendulous breasts naked but shoved together with hands covering the nipples. The same tiny vibrator was held between them as Sharon licked the rounded end. The picture changed again. Sharon was farther away, licking her lips and holding her breasts while dressed in only a pair of lacy black underwear and high heels. The next picture showed a close up of the tiny vibrator hovering over the underwear. In the next, the underwear was gone, her hairless folds visible where the material had been. Next, from farther away, the bottom of the vibrator was visible, barely peeking out from between the folds, while Sharon pinched her nipples. The tingling in my chest spread from my chest to my hands and feet. I suddenly felt hot and almost queasy.
“Do you like them?” The real Sharon turned and was suddenly in front of me. Her voice had dropped an octave, husky and strained.
I tried to say, “Yes,” but my voice cracked. I nodded instead.
“Would you like the real thing?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, but her lust screamed.
I was petrified, but Sharon wasn’t. She lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her nicest bra. The hints of design along its edges only highlighted the amount of fabric required to constrain her. Light from the high study windows reflected off the swaths of matte black satin that strained to constrain her mountainous bosom. I briefly wondered if this really was the nicest bra she had, how she didn’t have something more suggestive and less overwhelming, but the thought disappeared as soon as her bra did. Her breasts really were massive, overwhelming with or without fabric hiding them, and they were inches from my face. The nipples were not standing up, but almost hidden instead. I briefly became aware that my cock was in a similar state, too overwhelmed by my excitement to grow erect.
Inches of pink surrounded her shy nipples on all sides before blending into the ivory skin that extended for what seemed like miles beyond. Up so close, I could see the imperfections in the ivory. Light red splotches betrayed her own excitement, even as fine white squiggles cut across the splotches where the weight of her immense breasts pressed the skin tightly against the uneven anatomy within. Her breasts were a living Greek sculpture, soft and warm and massively oversized. My cheeks burned with desire as she lifted them up for my inspection.
“What do you think? Do you want me to stop?”
There was only one right answer, and she knew it too.
Quietly, forcefully, I told her, “Stop.”
“Stop what, baby?” she teased, whispering into my ear as the weight of her chest came to rest on my own torso. She tried nibbling lightly on my earlobe, but I grabbed her arm.
“Stop.” She stopped, looking me in the eye as she did. As she gauged me, her expression changed from confused to–something else. Afraid? Pleased?
“Get on the floor!” I barked. She did, with a tentative grin spreading slowly across her lips. “Kneel! Hands behind your head!”
As she complied, she replied in a soft but even voice, “Yes, Master.” It was sultry, but not teasing. As I stood up, I eyed the half-naked woman with huge tits critically. I knew she was trying to seduce me, but I had stopped her. Her gambit had not worked, and she was not going to emerge victorious as she had with her friends. As I eyed her, she grew unsure of herself, even as she sighed with pleasure under my gaze. Still, she now knew she was wrong about what I was capable of. I was in control. I was in control like never before, or so I thought. My vision momentarily faltered, turning completely red as I rose to my feet. I was shaking inside as my darker emotions were suddenly released, consuming me. On the outside, I remained absolutely calm. I was in control.
“I still need to make sure you followed my instructions. Stand up.” She did, careful not to remove her hands from behind her head. The air felt suddenly heavy, and I could not help but stare at her breasts, hanging half the length of her torso, staring back at me as their enormity pushed out and away from the rest of her body. Her nipples were beginning to stand out, but not yet up. I knew how large they could get, both from the pictures and from long before. But then was not before. This was not a picture. I was nearly knocked over by another wave of raw need bursting forth from my inner confines. My face burned, but I felt a cold sweat on my brow.
“Take off your skirt.” She did, and the red of her underwear was plain to see. However, the sheen of the material was barely noticeable, worn from use. Like the rest of her ensemble, it followed the letter of my instructions, but it was not what I truly intended.
“You followed my instructions, but only barely. I am not pleased,” I declared ominously. Her uncertainty grew as I commanded, “Get your hair brush.”
“W- What?” Clearly taken aback, she only recovered her composure just enough to add, “Master?”
“Get your hair brush. NOW!”
She scampered away quickly, holding her breasts to keep them from bouncing. I heard her run up and back down the steps. She was back before I could have counted to twenty. She released her breasts and handed me the brush.
“Hands behind your head!” I snapped.
She obeyed, looking up at the ceiling so she wouldn’t flinch. She was clearly used to the situation from past experience. Her nipples were the size of dimes, sticking out enough to be seen. I knew they could be size of a silver dollar, if properly stimulated, and sticking up almost as high. I gave her right nipple a hard swat with the back of the brush, and Sharon stifled a yelp. Clearly, she was not that used to the situation, but I wasn’t about to stop to correct her for crying out. I watched the purple outline of the brush slowly fade from her flesh, and then I smacked the left nipple. She stifled the yelp more quickly that time but was unable to fully suppress it. Her nipples grew to the size of nickels.
“Bend over!” I growled.
She did, leaving her hands behind her head. Her legs were still together, and her underwear was still on. I moved around to her side, admiring her breasts again as I did. They were large enough that they maintained most of their shape while hanging, in spite of hanging so unbelievably low. The worn red sheen of the underwear covering her backside was less appealing, large and stretched over her ample figure. It did not matter to me though. Red was the color for targets. I let the brush fly toward its target.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Though she tried not to, she yelped each time. It became rather endearing. After the fifth stroke, I found I had forgotten to breathe. As I inhaled, my vision went red again, and I felt my need welling up inside once more, like a demon straining to be set free. I knew its name now, this barely controlled rage bursting forth from within. It was power.
I moved fully behind her, so I could reach her other buttock. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I kept the strokes even, in spite of myself. Again, she yelped each time. As she struggled to catch her breath while remaining bent over, I was tempted to rip off her panties. Yank them off and thrust myself into her! Fuck her until she either came or screamed for mercy. I would sink my cock deep into her ass, fuck her in both holes, and then maybe have her clean me off with those luscious lips. My cock twitched at the thought, but I did not touch her. I ordered her to do it instead.
“Take off your panties.” As she did, her ample backside was revealed, her flesh soft and speckled with small dimples. “Stand up.”
I finished circling her, standing in front of her once more. Her nipples had grown to the size of quarters, visibly straining away from the surrounding pink flesh as the mass of her breasts tried to pull them back. The nipple tips had turned bright red, like the peak of a volcano rising from the earth. I felt my manhood catch on my boxers and adjusted myself. Beneath the mass of her breasts, Sharon was indeed a little soft. Her hips stuck out, and almost appeared to have handles. However, from there, her legs tapered in nicely, in spite of the meat she carried. Between her legs was–nothing. It was perfectly bare.
“Spread your legs!” I growled.
She did, and I saw her hairless girl-like folds spread apart ever so slightly. I saw her lick her lips with a hunger, just as I noticed that her nether lips were swelling slightly, changing from white to a light pink.
“Does this excite you?” I asked.
She licked her lips again before answering. “Yes, Master.”
I stepped in closer, pinching her left nipple until she winced. “Does THIS excite you?”
“Yes, Master,” she gasped.
Indeed, her left nipple now fully extended, the tip an angry purple. The rest of her nipple had turned dark red but seemed to be pulled so tight by her excitement that I did not know how it managed to hold. The flesh surrounding the nipple itself had become hard to the touch, arranged like folds in a stout and formidable mountain. I longed to suck it into my mouth, roll it on my tongue, savor the flavor and texture of her engorged flesh. However, I resisted that urge for a greater good. I pinched her right nipple instead, repeatedly, until it matched the left.
“Do you want to be pleasured?” I hissed.
Eagerly, she hissed back, “Oh, yes, Master!”
“Pleasure yourself with this,” I grinned wickedly as I handed her the hair brush. I turned on my heel and walked through the sliding doors, and then turned back to close them behind me. “Don’t come out until you’ve finished coming!”
She stood staring back at me in shock. “NOW!” I yelled before slamming the doors together with finality.
In my dream, I immediately started to shake, and my breath went ragged. I walked to the bathroom before I could make sure she was following my instructions and closed the door behind me. I quickly opened my pants and let out my cock. I was surprised to find it was not yet fully hard, although it grew to full size in seconds. My cock was nearly in pain with hardness by the time I wrapped my hand around it. I heard a soft moan from the other room and imagined what it would be like if I had stayed.
I opened the doors and found her standing where I left her. She was so startled that she dropped her brush, the handle slick with her desire. I forcefully bent her over the back of the office chair and plunged myself into her sex. My hands on her shoulders, I felt nothing but pain in my cock until I hit bottom and filled her. Then, I only felt intense heat from her womanhood, followed by the slick pleasure of her juices. I smelled her excitement as I pulled back, only to then plunge myself into her again. I faintly heard the smack of our flesh colliding, and a slight echo as her huge tits slapped against her body. Her pussy offered no resistance as I forced myself into her again and again. Slowly, I felt her walls begin to squeeze and pulsate against my manhood, and I heard her gasp. I reached around and grabbed what I could of her breasts, but I could not hold on as their mass swayed to my rhythm. I grabbed her hips and found them to be the perfect handles they appeared to be.
I heard her gasp again, and again, and realized that she was close to coming. I pulled out, and she gave a gasp of surprise. My cock, coated in her pleasure, waved tentatively in the air for a moment. I spread her ass cheeks and pressed my aching cock into its new target. As her ass yielded to me, I forced myself in to her, as far as I could go. I heard a deep moan but could not tell whether it came from her or me. I pulled out, pleased to find the passage eased by our juices, and then slammed into her again. Her ass began tightening on my cock as I repeatedly forced my way in and out of her. I pushed harder and harder, the path becoming more and more difficult with each stroke. Her back straightened, and her hole finally if briefly denied entry to my cock. I thrust again and was rewarded, forcing her spasming ass to yield all the way to the hilt of my cock. I exploded inside of her, nearly passing out in the process, and moans filling the air. This time, I knew they came from both of us.
As my vision returned in that dream, I saw the result of my self-pleasure. I found myself back in the bathroom, the walls and floor sprayed with my release. The dream within a dream finished, I grabbed some tissue and cleaned up, thankful it had missed my pants. I pulled them up and went back into the living room to find the study doors still closed. I didn’t hear anything, but I cautiously opened the door anyway. Sharon was on the couch, eyes closed, holding her breath as she worked the brush in and out of herself, fingers flying furious over her womanhood. The noise from the door caused her eyes to snap open, and she gasped, trembled–and came in front of me. I watched her breasts tremor, nipples at full extension, angry purple all over. I saw the slickness around her pussy, on her legs and fingers, on the hair brush. I saw the pink folds between her legs, now red with excitement, quiver as she let a long low moan, her eyes rolling back into her head. My head began to swim as I breathed in the musky smell filling the room. I could almost taste her excitement, the scent of her liquid filling my tongue with the tart, musky, sweet flavor of a pleasured woman. I was tempted to sample the flavor myself, but I did not trust myself. This was the endgame. If I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror again, this was as far as it could go, even in a dream.
Her fingers continued to lazily play over her sex, as she looked at me with satiated but lustful eyes. She smiled and said, “That was my third time.”
“I told you to come out after you came,” I reprimanded.
“You told me not to come out until I had FINISHED coming,” she replied, her voice becoming more lustful with each word, making it clear that she was still not done. She was indeed right about what I had told her, and she was determined to fulfill my command. As her fingers picked up their pace and the handle of the hair brush resumed its assault on her, she almost seemed to gaze through me. I saw her nostrils flare, drinking in some scent I did not detect. Her gaze dropped until she was looking right at my manhood, as if my pants weren’t there. In a low moan, she added, “You’ve been naughty out there!”
I felt my cock stir anew, but I only smiled and shook my head. She had claimed her victory over me after all, it seemed, and she had her release. Still, I realized, I hadn’t lost. Could we both have won?
Only, I realized, if I stopped while I was ahead.
“When you’re done, buy yourself a sexier bra. And sexier underwear,” I told her slowly, savoring the words as I issued my final commands. ”And then find yourself a REAL master.”
She closed her eyes and moaned more lustily than I thought possible, “YESSS, Master!”
I turned and left before she opened her eyes again, closing the doors behind me. I heard another long, loud moan as she began her ascent toward another climax. I smiled and shook my head, wondering how long she’d be in there. I knew that I’d never find out.
The front door closed behind me, and I stepped off the porch. I stopped before getting into my car, staring off into the blue sky. Back in that study chair, there had been only one choice, but it wasn’t the choice that I made in my mind’s eye and recounted here. That choice was a fantasy. There were lines I did not cross, even in dreams. Only in dreams within dreams did I entertain them.
In reality, there had been only one choice. I did tell her to stop, but not with power. It was with shame. I told her to stop, and it was the last command I uttered to her. I turned Sharon down flat, and then I had to put her back together afterwards. She lost. Maybe everybody can win in fantasies, and real life is different. In reality, nobody won the game we played that day, and I don’t think anybody could have won. I’m glad I didn’t keep playing, trying to win a fantasy at the expense of real life. I’m glad that I didn’t lose.
In the end, I couldn’t be Sharon’s master. Not even for a day. Not even for a few hours on a sunny afternoon after lunch. I went home to my wife and family that evening, and I was able to look myself in the mirror that night. And again in the morning. And again every morning and night thereafter, until I took it for granted.
In the end, I could only be a master to my own wife, and only after she agreed to it. Only after we learned how to make it work. But that, as they say, is another story.
The End.
