Thursday, February 7, 2013

The X-files, Part 3

Originally I posted this pretty late in the series, but this time I've chosen to put it where it should have been posted in the first place. Fond memories of a few stolen hours.

As per usual I send a huge TMI-alert to those of my friends who would prefer not to know explicit details about my sex life.

Booty call 1

So, I had a few hours to spend between dropping off one kid and picking up another. An offer to visit Sir was greatly appreciated. It had been planned for a few days, and if everything was on schedule we'd have three wonderful hours.
Of course nothing was on schedule. One tiny delay followed the other, and before I knew it I was delayed by one hour. Fortunately it worked out, so that we still had our three hours.
I was so nervous when I got closer to where he lived! It was only the second time we met for play, and I was late! Would I get punished for that? I imagined myself getting one lash of the belt for each minute I was late. Like I did when I forgot to put on the coffee.

I found the right apartment building where he met me in the hallway. Smiling. We kissed, and as expected my knees turned to jelly in about 10 seconds. He took me by the hand and led me to his apartment. I felt kind of shy, being led gently by the hand like that.
Upstairs we immediately started making out. We eventually moved into the living room, and he showed where I'd kneel. The next day, when I would be giving his friend a blowjob. I blushed and stuttered. It was still a bit scary to think about it, but I looked forward to it as well. In that dread filled anticipations kinda way ...
He made me kneel before him. In that very spot. As we made out, as I sucked his cock, I tried to imagine how I'd feel the next day. Hands tied behind my back, blindfolded, doing his bidding.

We moved into the bed. Making out, having sex, snuggling. It was just as great as last time. That's always a big question the second time I have sex with a man. Will it be just as good as the first time? Or was it only good because of the thrill of first-time-sex?
There wasn't much play. We just enjoyed each other. Almost fell asleep for a bit. My hand in his. I felt happy.

As we started having sex he held his hand firmly over my mouth. Effectively muffling my moans and screams of joy. He then covered both my nose and my mouth, blocking my air supply. When I needed air I tapped his thigh and he’d let me go.
I don't know what it is about breath control, but I love it.
Later when I sucked his cock he'd push my head down so that I didn't get any air. Again, I tapped his thigh if I needed air.

He facefucked me several times. Hard, brutally. I loved it, I tried to watch my teeth, tried not to gag. Tears were running, I was gagging, and I loved it.
There's something about deepthroating. When his cock passes that muscle in my throat. It feels strange, good, satisfying.
When I left my throat was sore. I knew it would be even worse when I went home the next day. And I smiled at the thought.

Then he went down on me, it was my reward for writing my first report. Oh, his tongue! He knows how to use it! Still he said that it can be even better. If we haven't had sex first, when I'm more sensitive. Can't wait!

Later, when he was fucking me from behind he asked me, did I want him to fuck me in the ass? I knew what he meant straightaway. Knew it would hurt. Still I said yes. He pushed himself into me. Not gently, not slowly. Fast. Hard. I knew it would hurt, but was surprised at how painful it was. I couldn't stop myself from screaming. I screamed my pain into the pillow while he was fucking me.
Telling him to stop, to use the codeword didn't occur to me. This was what I'd asked for, what I'd fantasized about. This was him showing his Dominance over me, showing me that my pleasure is nothing I can take for granted, that I'm his to use as he wishes. This was me submitting totally, accepting that my body doesn't belong to me when I'm with him. That my pain and my pleasure is his to decide over.
It hurt, and he fucked me, and I enjoyed it. Sometimes the pain wasn't too bad. Sometimes it felt good. But mostly it was painful. He wanted it to be that way I think? When it started feeling good he changed his pace or his position, and it would hurt again. (Edit: Turns out he didn't change pace to make the hurt last. He wanted it to turn into pleasure. Oh well, maybe next time?)
I didn't cry. I thought I would. But I didn't. I screamed though, and whimpered. A lot ...

Then we made out some more, snuggled. Had great sex. I didn't want to leave. But, eventually the alarm went off and I had to go home. I was told to come and wake him up the next morning. To sneak into his bed. Crawl under his covers and give him a blowjob.

I left smiling. Looking forward to the next day. Trying to decide what to wear. What does one wear for such occasions?
Now I'm about to go to bed. I thought I'd be nervous about tomorrow. I am, of course. But not as nervous as I thought I'd be. I'm told I might get fucked as well. By him? His friends? Only time will show. Maybe I won't even know? Will I be able to tell his cock from that of his friends?

Well, I know what I'll be dreaming of!

1 comment:

  1. *sigh*

    I just sat here straining my muscles subconsciously... but thank you, now you reignited my fantasies...