I told him "No, not any more." I said that I could not keep letting him in the house or accepting his letters. When he asked if he could call to find out if there had been any change, I had to say, I'm sorry, but I think everything has been said, it's over." It was terribly hard to treat him this way because I thought he was such a nice young man. And he was trying his best to hold-on. But there was not much more I could do. My daughter moved out of his house, filed for divorce and left no forwarding address.
It has been over a year since she split. I occasionally get a card with no return address. Sometimes a quick call. I guess she was making a clean break from everyone, including me.
His name was Michael, but everyone called him Mickey. To my eyes he was seriously handsome and well-built. At 22 years of age he was a few years younger than my daughter Joanie. I thought they always made a cute couple, he slaved over her and was more than generous with gifts and affection. She was a bit flirty, but would always hang on his arm, and seemed infatuated.
But in just the eighteen months that they were married, she seemed to take advantage of his good nature and tolerance. She's my daughter and I try to see things her way, but really, she turned into a true bitch. I hate to say it, but he deserved better. I figured that maybe it was because she saw the way my ex- had treated me, before he lit-out leaving us high and dry. The degrading words, forgetting important occasions, and in the end, the procession of whores. Still, I tried to remain cheerful, even when I caught him in bed with one of his bimbos. I think a lot of that treatment stuck with me, maybe Joanie feared something like that happening with them.
If my relation effected her, I didn't see it. Again, maybe that was my fault. I wanted her well away from him, and I warned her about trusting men. I may have been a bad influence because I was so often fooled. But I tend to romanticize things, where maybe she's a realist.
And Mickey tried to make it work for them. Once after she left, he told me that he put a few thousand dollars on her card, so that she wouldn't be forced into a bad decision. I told him that he was extremely generous, and I gave him some dinner leftovers, he gave me that sweet smile. Later, he told me that Joanie could keep the car she drove off in, that he would continue to make the necessary payments. That way she could afford an apartment or look for work, without being rushed. Then when things settle, maybe she'll come home. I said that I wish my husband had been half as nice. I explained to him how my husband had treated me, and that I didn't have "the balls" to do anything about it. I even mentioned that he demeaned me in and out of the bedroom. That was an embarrassing admission, but I felt that we had developed a rapport. In the meantime, just to keep his spirits up I told him I would phone him if there was any news concerning her, and I made a point of treating him with more kindness. Plus, he was really cute.
He swore that his treatment of her would never be an issue, and that he was raised a gentleman. I could just feel that he was truly a good guy, and that he knew how to treat a woman. Back when Joanie still confided in me, she told me that she considered him to be too wimpy. She said that she liked men who were a little more aggressive, a bit more adventuresome. She said that she did not find him "exciting" in bed. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant. She said to encourage him, that she bought some "dirty" movies about S/M. and bondage. She also wore exotic lingerie and told him fantasy stories. But she said he was too shy or reluctant to "even try things with the damn lights on." I wasn't completely certain about everything she hinted at, I was pretty straight-laced, but I could see she wasn't "satisfied." And she said that it was a shame, since "he is hung like a bull" and "when we did go at it, he was delicious." We both giggled at that, only I blushed. Later on, she mentioned that she found fulfilment in other ways, I didn't even ask.
After the break-up, Mickey and I would often have heart to heart talks, since he showed-up on my doorstep once a week. He was so kind and easy to open-up with. It got to be where I was happy to see him, and I grew to think about him and wonder what he was really like. Awhile back, Mickey had roses sent to my door. I thought they were intended for Joanie, but the note read, "for always being so nice to me." He told me that he could not have had a nicer mother-in-law, and he added, "a very sexy one, too." The note said that he would enjoy taking me to lunch or dinner, anytime. I must admit that if I were a few years younger, or thought that he could have any interest in an older woman, I could easily swoon. I saw traits in him that my daughter must have missed. It would be nice to have such a handsome, considerate man paying attention to you.
If Joanie had only been away for a week, or if she had explicitly told me not to, I would have kept my distance. But now, it has been months and I guess we have both been feeling lonely and abandoned. I decided to call him one day and invite him over for a nice home-cooked meal. It's been so long since I entertained or had dinner with a man, that I was a bit nervous. But he said Friday is good, "how 'bout seven, and I'll bring wine." I was instantly conflicted and confused, but I was looking forward to it.
All week my heart was in my throat. Joanie was sexy and a bit of "a bad girl." She got her figure and dark hair and eyes from me, but of course she was in her mid-twenties and I was in my mid-forties. I still have long dark hair, though the color is not all mine. I have brown eyes with long lashes that Mickey says he always found so beautiful on my daughter. My face is round and full with plump lips and big cheeks. (My mom used to say chipmunk cheeks.) In an unguarded moment he once said that Joanie's cheeks were designed for oral sex. And my chest is a natural 36DD. They sag a little, but they still bounce nicely when I walk, especially in heels and I always wear heels. And I've noticed Mickey sneaking peaks at my cleavage when he thinks I'm not looking. I have always been somewhat naïve, but lately my hormones have been stirring. It makes me wonder.
For the two days leading up to our "date" I examined every outfit in my closet. I had my hair and nails done and for some reason, I even bought new frilly underwear. Then I decided that I need a new low-cut, dark blue, blouse, to further emphasize my better points. I did not want to embarrass myself or appear desperate, so I planned a plain meal of meatloaf and mashed, with apple pie for desert. We had coffee infront of the television. That afternoon, I was in such a tizzy that I nearly called things off. I had to take two showers. At six-thirty, I started watching out the window and listening for his foot-falls on the walk.
It's funny that Joanie described him as wimpy, or soft. When he came through the door I was instantly impressed with his demeanor, and marveled at his thick arms and chest in tight clothing. I couldn't help but imagine the size of his "package." He was over six feet tall, with wavy brown hair and cool blue eyes. And he had a devilish smile that would make even "a good girl" melt. We had a very pleasant evening and I was already anticipating more.
The more time we spent and the more he spoke, his language and tone became more comfortable and jokingly coarse. He said that he enjoyed making me laugh and he found that the "dirtier" the joke, the more broadly I smiled. He mentioned that he had "learned" things that Joanie would like now, and his stories were peppered with sexual innuendos. He would sometimes say that, "I see now where Joanie got her sexy looks and that awesome figure. I only wish she had inherited more of your disposition." I thought at first it was just idle flattery, but sometimes the sweet words were accompanied by a gentle pat on the thigh or a lingering hug. He even asked a few not-quite-innocent questions about my sexual situation and interests. I attempted to hide my stunned looked but I'm certain he noticed my arousal. My blush started at my cleavage and rose to redden my cheeks and nose. Was he simply engaging me in adult conversation, intimating that older gentlemen might still find me attractive if I got back in the game? Or was he dropping hints that he wanted to have sex with me, my wine-addled brain instantly drew a lewd picture of "doing the mother, too." The rest of the night was nice but uneventful, when he left I felt horribly confused.
My empty nights in the big, cold bed caused me to rethink and replay every sentence. I examined my answers and tried to come-up with edgier replies that would have made me seem sultry and alluring. And my fingers began to tease my lonely vagina more than they ever have before. My most recent shopping spree had also included a mail-order vibrator with a giant rotating head. It was instantly plugged-in and stationed at my bedside, and now it was put to good use. I'm glad it was electric because I would have gone through a pack of batteries per day. I started to picture myself with a younger man, and as the spinning head whirred, the image sharpened into Mickey.
I remember one time that he came to the house to return some plastic containers. It was just a quick visit we were standing in the doorway, idly talking. When he handed me the few items, he also left a manila envelope with them saying, "this is one of the movies that Joanie wanted me to watch. Have a look at it and tell me what you think." All the while he was speaking, his hand was playfully winding a strand of my dark hair around his fingers. I didn't think much of it, he always mentioned how much he liked (pulling-on) Joanie's long hair. But he let his warm, calloused palm linger across my cheek as he turned for the door. Then he spun back and kissed me right on the lips. A warm, soft, slow kiss. A kiss that set my heart aflutter and sparked a little heat between my legs. Or was I just imagining things and my lonely body over reacted to a friendly smooch.
For a brief second I felt myself taken in his strong arms and cradled in a lasting caress. His steamy kisses started at my hungry lips then traveled down my neck, his warm breath on the hollow notch at my throat. Then slowly and smoothly his tongue floats into my cleavage and he begins to plant wet, warm pecks on the rounded sides and fleshy globes of my supple breasts. I am jarred back to reality as I hear him repeat his "goodbyes." He must have seen my eyes flare and then cloud over, and then the surprised gasp escape my lungs, as he shuffled down the walk. I would swear I saw his hand in his pocket, straitening the bulge in his pants. Maybe he was hoping that I would invite him in for a drink and a slow grope, (maybe I should have.) Or I can shock him by dropping to my knees and sucking him off. (What made me think of that, I have never in my life thought of having a man's penis in my mouth. But hey...)
I nearly fainted from the intensity of emotions as I closed the door. My knees
almost buckled and my body literally shook as I tried to make sense of what just happened. My forehead, chest and underarms broke-out in a warm glow and a tell-tale tingle began to vibrate in my vagina. I sunk heavily into the couch, fingering the package. Without even opening it, I knew what was inside. As my breathing returned to normal and my body temperature lowered, I poured a glass of wine from the liquor cabinet. All the while I cut a wide circle around the mysterious movie sitting in the unmarked envelope on the coffee table. I tried to avert my eyes and divert my attention to other matters-to anything at all.
The sweating started again, and my fingers trembled as if a serpent was hissing inside, when I haltingly tore at the seal. THE MASTER'S PASSION was the title of it, and the picture on the box was of an older woman in a black leather bustier, hand-cuffed to a wooden bench, orange ball-gag in her mouth, and the silhouette of a man's hand holding a whip. I wanted to place it in a drawer and tip-toe out of the room. Instead I noticed that my wine glass was already empty and my clingy blouse was nearly soaked through with flop-sweat.
I pulled the bottle from the shelf and embarrassingly tossed my damp shirt on the floor. Then I fed the movie into the machine. Before the college-aged boarder had ripped the flowery dress from his curvy landlady, my jittery hand was under my thin bra, tentatively squeezing my firm breast. I twirled the hard nipple between my fingers with one hand while I unclasped and discarded the soggy, useless garment. When the young man attached a dog collar and leash, and forced her to follow him on her knees, to her own bedroom, I kicked my heels to the floor and slowly unbuttoned my jeans and eased them down my legs. I kept my silky panties on, because that's what good girls do. But a wet spot was spreading rapidly at the crotch. And I could feel the moist heat rising. I told myself that I was only removing sticky, sweaty clothing. And that it had nothing to do with sex. My hand was merely sweeping over the dewy spots of my wriggling body because I was too lazy to grab a towel and mop-up. But the orgasmic undulating action of my hips and the impassioned moans escaping my lips belied the illusion.
With one hand tugging at my erect brown nib, my right hand snaked it's path inside my dank undies. The wiry dark hair was matted with sweat, my fingers worked to fluff it and to caress my clitoris. I had not been this hot since high school. My inexperienced fingers began to manipulate the soft folds of my vagina, and a warm wave settled in my lower belly. The movie progressed to another scenario and I watched in awe, as the determined young man in the film slipped into the woman's darkened bedroom, and slid her negligee from her sleeping torso, I shed my sodden panties and with the tip of my toe, flung them across the room. I'll be a good girl again, tomorrow.
His large cock started to slowly disappear inside her willing vagina, as she woke from her contented slumber. She leered through heavy-lidded eyes then cooed and moaned as his tool settled balls deep in her trimmed snatch, and he began his rhythmic assault. She squirmed with ecstasy on her bed, just as I writhed with an unquenched desire on my sofa. My own hand was roughly abrading my straining clit as I reached two fingers into the cavern of my well-lubed snatch. I closed my eyes and listened to the sex-scene on tape-her desperately pleading for satisfaction and him grunting his passions. I pictured my own strong young stud working his magic on my horny twat. Ten minutes, maybe five...
I felt the pressure rising in my belly and the warmth in my vagina. My fingers plunged furiously in and out of my steamy snatch. My legs unconsciously spread wide and my toes curled, the muscles of my abdomen tightened, and my back arched. I took a quick peek at the video screen and saw the mature heroine of the film was now on her knees. Her mouth was now stuffed with the stud's amazing cock. I believed at that moment I could feel Mickey's cock deep inside me, then my pussy exploded with a feeling and an emotion I have not experienced in ages. I shuddered and tensed in delirium. My pussy gushed like a volcano. I mumbled filthy phrases under my breath and felt the sensation of warm, slick fluid flow between my inexperienced fingers.
The frantic motion of my digits subsided but my torso and legs convulsed for five more minutes. My mind was at a fevered pitch. I was shivering and sweating, and thinking that I really wanted Mickey to fuck my brains out. What was happening?
I recovered my senses just as the woman on screen was joined on the bed by her sister. One of them was positioning herself between the inviting legs of the other one, tonguing her moist snatch, and the young master was lubing his mammoth cock for a rear entry of the woman on her knees. I didn't need to watch much more, I realized the upcoming scenario. And something sinfully delightful struck a tuning fork in my loins, I found the image of a woman licking another woman's pussy, to be sensuous and thought-provoking. I could easily have watched more, it was amazing to see and there was a sudden spark between my legs, but my poor pussy was sore and not used to such intense activity. Besides, I may want to have a little more energy for when I view this act to it's completion. I have a "feeling" that I'm going to like it. After my breathing steadied, I dragged myself off of the damp couch, and trudged wearily to a hot shower. As the satiny liquid-soap caressed my tired body, I wondered if I could ever engage in a threesome. I guess if Mickey wanted me to. I have very recently now begun fantasizing about licking pussy, and offering my fuzzy cunt to another female.
The shower took a little effort until I found the stamina to stand under the warm flow. My jittery legs finally stopped shaking. I still couldn't get the erotic image out of my head. Not the sex on video, but the vision of Mickey's lovely cock entering my gaping pussy. I was shaken from my reverie when I noticed how heavily my snatch was lathered in soap suds and my pointy nipples were achingly hard again. I sank to my knees on the porcelain, envisioning his erect, meaty cock bumping the back of my throat, and for the second time in an hour, which I formerly thought impossible, I brought myself to a seismic orgasm. I found it difficult to believe that I was getting-off by dreaming of sucking cock and having sex with a woman.
Later that evening I crawled into my lonely bed. It had only been a couple of hours, but now my hands were lurking precariously close to my hungry pussy again. When the light was off, and the room silent, I began to feel that urge and the forbidden images once more danced in my head. I concentrated on anything else. I prepared a grocery list for tomorrow. I planned a trip to the laundromat and the library, but still my hand travelled south, and burrowed inside my hot cavern. My nightgown was unceremoniously tossed to the floor. I thrashed under the sheets, mouth drooling and hips humping an invisible man. As the tension mounted, I even turned away from my nightstand so that I couldn't see the vibrator already plugged-in and silently calling my name. Cock and cunt filled my mind.
In tossing my gown, my raven mane was tussled and laying like an ebon halo on the pillow. My large breasts heaved on my chest, their ponderous weight taking them to either side of my torso. I reached for my left boob and cupped it gently. Like the woman in the movie, I fondled the firm pink nub and pretended to offer it obligingly to my master. Then I gripped it tight and with my neck straining, I brought it to my eager lips. I had never before thought of suckling on my own breast, but having seen both of the porn girls licking and kissing each other's boobies, I was enthralled. Now I consider sucking on a strange woman's tits, and asking her to please me in the same way. My tongue darted out to taste my small pink nipple and it made me feel both "dirty" and sensuous. The flat top of my tongue flicked at the rubbery tip, and then the pointy end jabbed at it.
I felt the rush in my loins and the sudden, sharp contractions of my stomach muscles. My hand reached for my new toy, with the "comfort setting" at maximum vibration. In an instant my entire body began to convulse. My moans filled the room with an eerie chant that I had never made before, and at the ultimate moment of pleasure I screamed, "Ohh, fuck me Mickey. I want your big cock." All of the new experiences and taboo thoughts were foreign to my naïve upbringing. But I soon discovered that each one drove me to an ever stronger orgasm. And I was learning that this is what I truly needed.
Morning broke and I awoke naked and disheveled, the vibrator still humming on the sheets. I jumped from the bed as if it were on fire, feeling embarrassed and naughty, but shockingly pleased. My sticky vagina looked as if I had fallen asleep with a glazed donut in my lap. My insides were bruised and my pussy was sore all over. But it was a pleasant ache, as if I had been riding a horse. My mind was awhirl, it kept wandering back to the previous erotic evening. When I took my coffee into the living room and spotted my rumpled clothes piled in a heap and the tape in the machine, I blushed deeply though there was no one to see, but an enormous smile lit my face and I heaved a marvelous sigh of remembrance.
In the afternoon Mickey called and I fairly danced to the phone. We exchanged small talk about Joanie, the weather and any future dinner plans. Then he asked me how I had liked the tape and if I had any favorite scenes, perhaps even something I could envision trying. Caught off-guard, I was momentarily stunned as if I had been punched. I stuttered and hesitated for an appropriate reply. Finally I blathered-out that I had not had time to watch it, yet. I worried for an instant that he knew exactly what I had done. In an obvious tone of confusion, I switched topics three times. He was gracious enough to let the conversation drop, and I was left dangling in my own deceit. Before he hung-up though, he said, "I know you're lying. Tell me, did you enjoy the part where he strapped her to the bed." I was dazed but I heard him sarcastically laughing when he disconnected.
"What was that all about?" I wondered, "Did he expect me to watch that filthy movie and then masturbate to it? Did he think that these actions were my fantasy? Did he think that I was going to tell him my fantasies, or even admit that I had any?" Or was I simply being paranoid? His chuckling as he hung-up was probably a sign that he found the whole idea of X-movies as crazy as I do. Probably, I was just being silly. Of course he was joking. I think he was only teasing me and may not have even looked at the movie, either. Of course, I did watch it, and now I'm thinking about the scene he mentioned. Maybe it is something he wants me to know about. No, it has to be a joke...he's such a jokester, and he especially likes to make me blush. "Gawd, I'm so fucked-up." I was nervous and my mind was racing. "Better get another glass of wine and check that tape, again."
It took only a few seconds to find a new scene that I liked. And really, all sex-movies are only concerned with the viewer getting-off, and I was already started. I could feel the special tingle before I even hit the "play" button. My robe was open and I was naked underneath. No longer ashamed or anxious, I was zipping through the talking parts while my free hand played with my quickly enlarging clit. Then I spied a special scene I wanted to explore more fully. She was in the shower, her long hair wet and her luscious, curvy body shiny with soap. The curtain displayed an ominous shadow approaching as she ducked her head under the spray. The sound of rushing water muffled the soft metallic noise of the curtain being drawn aside, and the form of the large, naked young man stealing inside. The vague outline of his solid cock appeared in shadow creeping over the tight crack of her bubbly ass, and played slowly atop the tiny dimple of her lower back. He leered menacingly from behind her as she bent forward. She rinsed shampoo from her blonde tresses and wiped soap from her eyes. Those ponderous boobs hung loosely and wobbled, making wet, slapping noises while her hands roughly scrubbed at her scalp. A slow trickle of suds streamed down her glistening back and funneled towards her bouncy ass, cascading between her soft cheeks. The camera panned to his right hand slowly but deliberately stroking his engorged cock and his left hand ready to grip her long locks.
My emotions ran wild. My fingers pumped furiously between my thighs, pistoning in and out of my sloppy cunt. My other hand grasped hard onto my pliant breast as my back arched and that eerie moaning returned. The fever was rising again, the feeling in my vagina was like a soup-pot on the boil. The tremors inside of me started to churn and my fingers drove deep and hard into my aching cunt. My back rose steadily off of the couch and my legs began to shake. I felt the tingle in my G-spot and stretched my thin fingers to "scratch that itch." The dam burst!
With a glance at the screen, I saw the lady sprawled over the tub, faucets in hand and shower splashing down on her silken backside. Behind her, the man grabbed her wet, shaggy mop and spanked her soaked ass. His fleshy rod plowed deep into her wanton cunt as he called her the most vile names. "Take it all in, slut. Tell me you're my bitch, and that your whorey body is mine to fuck whenever I want." She only answered with a slavish "yes Master" and "I need your cock in my horny hole." She writhed beneath him and seemed to worship his huge pole, and the image of her debasement thrilled me for some very odd reason. In the next instant, he jerked her to her knees infront of him, her blue eyes shining up at his commanding presence. I plunged faster and firmer than ever, my clit engorged and inflamed. He demanded that she stroke and suck his tremendous organ, always rougher and from tip to balls. She slurped away at the thick snake, slobbering saliva down the veiny surface and puffing-out her rosy cheeks with the exertion. His hands wrapped around her head, tugging at her blonde locks, and his powerful hips thrust his pelvis like a rocket swiftly in and out of her pink lips. He grunted and strained, the blue veins on his cock pronounced and sinewy. He shouted for her to swallow his seed. Her mouth fell open, drool dripping down her chin, and her tongue lazily reached out to paint the bulbous tip. He forced his shaft to the back of her mouth and shot his potent load. He filled her mouth and continued to squirt his milky semen on her wary face. He bathed her in his gooey discharge and she reacted as if being baptized in his sticky cum. I could taste the salty spurts in my own throat and I rubbed my tits as if his milky juice had flooded my double-d's. My loins erupted with delight. The salty fluid flowed freely from my vagina and puddled in my lap, and I could swear that I felt the coarse texture and generous girth of Mickey's huge cock tickling my tonsils and causing me to squirm. I came in a continuous stream of thick, acidic liquid. Like water rushing over a falls, my insides let loose, and the sheer ecstasy drove me temporarily insane. I gulped the phantom torrent of semen that I so wished was flowing down my throat. When I finally regained my equilibrium, and my pulse fell back to normal range, the shaking subsided and I was able to click off the machine and cuddle into a warm, contented ball. My plush, but dampened robe was my blanket and I slept dreamily for the rest of the day.
For days afterward, I fell into a pattern of minimum housework and maximum time with the movie. The scenes of bondage, spankings, girl/girl, and S/M continued to fascinate me. A door was opening and my (sexual) world was expanding in brilliant new colors. I wanted Mickey to teach me these many wonders and to explore my new submissive attitudes towards my taboo pleasures. I fought the urge to call him for almost a week. "What could I possibly say? Do I tell him that I really enjoyed the movie and am anxious for him to tame and fuck me? Do I say that I've been terribly lonely, so maybe we could uncork a bottle and watch the movie together...then he can fuck me? Or maybe just ask him to come see me and I'll get it over with, I'll just drop to my knees and suck his mighty cock then say, now you can fuck me!"
Gawd, I must be losing my mind. His cock and my orgasms are all that I can think about. And the consensual joining of the two. My only question is, "how did my daughter let him get away?" If I can lure him to my door, I'll do what it take to be his sex-slave. If he wants me to be like those sluts in the movie, then I'll be his slut.
My aching cunt has begun to rule my behavior. At night the buzzing from the vibrator literally rocked me to sleep. Waking hours meant hopefully listening for his footfalls so I could start the process of my enslavement without having to take the first step. I spent hours infront of the screen, simulating the action, learning the moves and the words, and always, pleasuring my insatiable pussy.
I was now without shame. When I saw the two women licking each other's cunts, I practiced on fresh melons I had purchased at the store. I determined that I could do that if it would please my Master. I also bought various sized cucumbers to mimic the anal penetration I felt certain that Mickey wanted me to see. Whatever the women on screen were ordered to do by their young lord, I tried to simulate with enthusiasm. "If Mickey wants a slave, I'll call him my Master, and I'll be sure that he has the shiniest cock in town."
I even went to the site where I bought the vibrator and ordered another movie, COCK HO'S- "The erotic story of women craving discipline" The titillating description listed shackles, dildos, spankings and humiliation. I was ready to try it all. When I see Mickey, I want him to be assured that I am willing and hoping to be his complete slave. His sexual slut. I want him to take me, to own me, to command me, to please him with my entire body. I want to be used like a whore. Just thinking about it gets me hot. Masturbation for me, is now a twice a day activity, and more at night. And my filthy thoughts revolve around preparing my body for sexual degradation and wanting to call him, offering myself to his dominance.
During the day now, I wear only my robe and a lascivious smile until I satisfy myself infront of the monitor. I pour my wine and prop my bare ass up on pillows while I start the movie. My hands begin their familiar circuit of my tits and pussy. I use the cucumbers to stuff my sizzling twat until my juices flow, and then lick the viscous liquid from the domed tip, each day trying to fit more of it in my eager mouth. Sometimes, I find it difficult to breathe or even to think clearly, with the idea of Mickey's awesome cock in my small mouth. But nothing else in my present circumstance really matters except the desire to be put under Mickey's spell. Soon I'm ready to switch gears and orifices. I practice a very sloppy blowjob until slobber covers the big green fruit and the saliva runs down my hand. Then I cautiously rise to my knees, hearing Mickey's instructions to "assume the position," I plant an obedient, sultry kiss on the huge knob (imagining it was Mickey's monster) and slowly, feed it into my tender, waiting asshole. This is when I realized that I was a true submissive- practicing on my own, the forceful sodomy I expected from my Master.
With everyday repetition, I have managed to wedge three fingers, half-way into my puckered, brown opening. Now the "Green Marvel" has it's turn. This is where I need the helping services of my vibrator, "Mr. Buzz." The intense pressure I felt at first was excruciating. But from constantly redoing it and excessive saliva on "the Marvel," I was able to progress to a grade-A cucumber. Not too big around for my small hand to grasp, but thicker than my wrist. A dildo-pickle on steroids! For this one, it took a dollop of Vaseline and a very slick middle finger to prepare my ass for it's entry. I close my eyes tight, only listening to the debauchery playing on the screen. I imagine (what I hope to be) Mickey's enormous rod slowly working a path through my unexplored passage. And seeking it's berth in the tiny entrance to my sphincter. In my mind I hear him hoarsely grunting his stern, perverted demands in my ear. He kneads my pliant tits like a child with Play-doh and smacks my ass with a practiced rhythm. I heed his orders to reach behind me, and spread my butt-cheeks with my nervous fingers. He requires me to beg him to permit this deflowering of my virginal ass, and to then thank him for the service he provides. "Please Master, I offer my ass to you. Fuck me hard and make me your bitch!" I squirm as I shout the taboo phrases aloud, I never imagined I could willingly wish to be violated in such an obscene manner. Today I imagine that, and much more. I am accepting the notion that I plan to offer my forty plus year-old body to my daughter's ex-husband, to rape me in any way he desires and obediently follow his every corrupt command.
He positions me on my knees, face buried in a cushion and round, expectant ass up in the air. My vision is partly obscured by my long, sweaty hair, but like rubber-necking at a traffic accident, I just have to watch him, as his gargantuan tool slowly disappears in my most intimate orifice. Only on this occasion, it is my own saliva that is the lubricant he uses, to force his monstrous tool into my shivering anus. As I buck and squirm at the intense pressure of his forceful assault, my white knuckles grip the couch and my toes dig-in to the seat. My teeth grind and the muscles of my neck bulge, but suddenly, a slow release and exhausted satisfaction overtake me. His cock has been pounding a rapid and determined beat in my clingy ass. His hands yanking at my tits feel like he'll pull them off. The force of his hips, slamming into my frail backside propels me against the arm of the sofa. I look for some way or comfortable position to alleviate this penetration. Then he grunts like a wounded animal and shrieks like a barbarian. The warmth passes through me and a simmering heat floods my vagina. His sweaty body lands hard on my back and we collapse in a wet, heaving mass on the couch. From his orders, I must tell him, " I worship your majestic cock, Master. I want it now and forever. Take me please, I'm yours." And it's true. I want his big cock. And I want to serve him, and to become his sex-bitch. I want to taste that sweet cum on my lips, and feel that huge, solid pole in both my cunt and my ass.
The tension eases as I imagine his cock resting in my hot ass. I can feel the mammoth, phallic fruit slide side to side in my slowly stretched-out cavern. My back arches and my rear-end instinctively clenches. My teeth grind and my eyes water, tears stream down my face. That's when I reach for "Mr. Buzz." Soon, the swiftly rotating head of my new favorite toy is gliding along the smooth outer lips of my sensitive mons. My swollen clit pops-out, eager to be soothed. Then the sweet tingle starts to build from deep inside my vagina. All sensation is quickly transferred to my dripping pussy and with the onrushing tide of my orgasm, my body relaxes and the large, green lover, slides further into my snug ass where it seats itself firmly and semi-comfortably in my lower colon. My stomach muscles tighten and the orgasm mounts in my pussy like I could not have imagined. When the deluge arrives, my entire torso quivers with excitement and delight.
I can hear him now. "Take it slut. Can you feel my big cock in your hot ass? This is what you've always wanted isn't it? Tell me how much you love having me fuck your sexy little ass. I'm gonna cum in your ass and then you're gonna suck me dry, aren't you bitch?"
To each unspoken question, I screamed out, "Yes, I want it. I want your cock. I want you to fuck me and never stop. I'm your bitch, yes, yes, yesss!"
If anyone had walked-in on me at this moment, they would have found me writhing on my couch, naked. A large, slimy cucumber plunged up my raw, red ass. A whirring, electric vibrator touching 2,000 rpm's humming away at my swollen mound. And a 40+ year-old woman shrieking that she needs to be fucked hard, and dominated completely. And whoever it was that found me in this condition, I would
get on my knees infront of them, begging to be allowed to suck their cock or pussy, and promising that they could fuck me in any position or with any accessory they please.
I need it bad. I want it bad. I yearn to be his sex slave. I know it now. I don't entirely understand the emotion, but I lust after the erotic passion and heated thrill it brings to my sex-life. If Mickey wants my ass, I'm his. I want his creamy sperm. I'll swallow it, bathe in it, revel in it, I want to make him cum, and I want his cum in me. I'm prepared to tell him, the very next time I see his strong, sexy body. Maybe I should just drop to my knees and yank his big cock from his pants. That way, I won't need to day anything but I'm fairly sure he'll get my message. I'll lick it a few times just to prime the pump, and slobber wet, slow kisses on the great helmeted head. I'll look up at him so that in my eyes, he can see my easy submission. With his gigantic cock bulging-out my blushing cheeks, he'll spot the humble pose and the misty, brown eyes while he thrusts his mighty rod into my throat.
My trembling hands will rip the buttons from my blouse to reveal my bare chest. My full, heaving breasts with their large brown aeriola, are my offering to him. He has glanced furtively at my deep cleavage many times, now it is his to own. I'll take one hand away from stroking his pole and pinch my stout, pink nipple. In turn I'll cradle each pillowy breast in my cupped palm, and taking a quick lick at the nubby tip, I'll hold it-out to him for his inspection and pleasure. He'll caress them in his powerful hand and squeeze each one with a firm, but soft touch, just like I've dreamed on so many lonely, desperate afternoons and nights. When his ivory erection reaches it's full, magnificent proportions in my mouth, I'll release it with a delicate kiss on it's mushroomed tip, and spin myself around on the floor. My bare pussy and ass will come exposed to his gaze, leaving no doubt that my every inch is his sexual playground, and I am here to fulfill all of his deviant desires. Even if he wants to bring another younger woman to the party, I'll be his pliant, willing sub. I am anxious to please him, and I know I'll get my pleasure from that.
I'm ready now, I know and understand that I derive my deepest satisfaction and sexual high, from performing for my Master. And I want Mickey to be my dom. "I'm a submissive sex-slut," I need to hear myself say it out loud to let it sink-in. That takes a bit of a toll to admit. I hope the sex will be easier. But I realize that my peak sexual pleasure can only truly be achieved when I allow myself to be fully controlled by a stronger personality but a complimentary partner. A man who can command and direct my actions. It excites me to be degraded and "used." I need to try it out. And I know exactly to whom I want to release my erotic passions. I only hope that I can seize my taboo fantasies, and that I won't embarrass either of us, when I announce my sinful wishes. But if Mickey wants to fuck me in any way; with another woman, with toys, in public or in any position, I am more than willing to be his slut.
I've decided to act. I thought about it all night between steamy pleasure sessions with Mr. Buzz. I'll invite him over, I won't say why on the phone. But I'll let him know it's important and that I'm pretty sure he'll find it exciting. If he really doesn't want a forty-something MILF to be his own casual sex slave, then atleast I hope he'll get a kick out of me greeting him at the door, naked and on my knees. If I can't tempt him and
win him over with my big jugs, and a warm, sloppy blowjob, then I guess my humiliation will be complete. But if his cock gets hard, and he has any normal fantasy about controlling and fucking an older woman, then I anticipate we'll both have fun for a good, long time.
So I screwed-up my courage; the meek little homemaker, suddenly transformed and fortified with two glasses of wine, eased my right hand under my frilly panties, and with the left, I tapped in his number. As his phone rang, I felt desperate and pathetic. The sweat broke-out all over, and my pussy began to pulse with nervous excitement. Finally I heard his voice, and I blurted-out my cryptic, frantic request. Essentially, that if he hurries (before I lose my nerve,) he'll receive a tremendous surprise.
He said that he was both enthusiastic and anxious for this moment. He claimed that
he could sense that this climactic occasion was in the air, and he would rush right over. He thrilled me and boosted my nervousness as he remarked that certain little impressions and encouraging signs, had made him optimistic that this "thing" was really going to happen, and how perfect it would turn-out for us. Mickey mentioned that he would need to make a quick stop, so that this day would be truly memorable. But that he would be at my door in fifteen minutes, prepared and excited to do anything, so that today would signal a new, creative beginning. He thanked me tenderly, and I thought I detected a soft sobbing in his tone, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion and yearning, that I could easily be mistaken.
When I first disconnected, I was apprehensive. I immediately stopped pawing at my torrid pussy. It was hot and nearing the boiling point, just thinking about how this afternoon might go, I had rehearsed and practiced for this taboo tryst for months. I love the simmering feeling I get in my vagina just when my fingers go into overdrive, and the warm, wetness begins to bathe my hungry digits. I can almost taste that meaty cock in my mouth. The firm, rigid form filling my cheeks and poking at the back of my throat. My tongue dancing lightly over the sinewy veins that wind around the ever-thickening shaft as I work my way down it's length, sucking more of the monstrous organ into my straining throat. My hand feeds more of it rapidly in and out, saliva greasing the path, and the obscene slurping noise of a crazed woman devouring her prize. I am ready to accept his milky semen and at the same second, to feel my hot cunt explode with it's own passion-juices. I am right at the brink of ecstatic bliss when I shudder and halt my sensual self-foreplay, "I can last for fifteen minutes," I nervously tell myself. "I want it to feel like the first time, and I want Mickey to bring it out in me. I am so ready to get fucked."
I lay back on the sofa, the sight of so much masturbation and lewd dreams. I was already exhausted, but now with a new goal so near, and a new life-experience open to me, my second-wind kicked-in. His stopover, I assumed was for condoms, I thought, "how sweet of him." I really want to taste that delicious cum and bathe in it's warmth on my chest. My cunt aches to be filled with his creamy seed, but however, an unseen pregnancy would be a true problem, so we'll tackle that issue as it arrives.
Meanwhile, fifteen minutes was ticking away fast, that would barely give me time to arrange my appearance. And I wanted to make an alluring, captivating impression. Mickey should have no doubt that my call was an invitation to my body. The second he arrives, he'll understand that this MILF is to be his sex-slut. My mouth will surround his magnificent tool with warm, snug suction. When his cock is at full, generous proportions and he can't hold back any longer, I'll concentrate on the huge bulbous head and pump the thick, fleshy root into my mouth. I'll take it all in, he'll be amazed how hungrily I swallow his load, and lick his spurting shaft clean. Then my most enticing offer, as I spin on the carpet, exposing my rounded rear passage to full view. I picture his thick, sturdy cock still firmly erect as this new target appears. From my knees, I'll look back over my shoulder and in the most shameless tone, brushing my sweaty black locks to the side, proclaim " choose what you like Master, I am here for your pleasure." I will leave no doubt that either or both of my holes are available. Fifteen minutes...
I hurry to swipe a cool cloth across my face and wipe moisture from tits and glistening pussy. My body is exuding a musky aroma and the mood of sexual seduction is in the air. I spritz on a subtle cologne and drape a black, gossamer gown over my shoulders. My dark hair shines but looks carelessly rumpled as it cascades down my back and conceals just the tops of my bountiful breasts. I slide on a pair of frilly, black silk panties to only tease the appearance of my neatly trimmed snatch. And then step into a pair of four-inch, strapless heels, (the kind commonly known as "fuck-me pumps") I hope they work as advertised.
As I skipped into the front room, the clock was ticking. I could see his small sportster pulling to the curb. Flustered but determined, I cracked the door and was about to drop to my knees, when I spied in his hands a bouquet of pink roses, they were always my daughter's favorite. Initially I thought how romantic, then I blanched. I realized in a frightening second, that on the phone I was excited and speaking very fast. A lot of what I intimated may have sounded confusing. I had hoped to be mysterious but not misleading. I hope he understood the delicate meaning of my invitation. He didn't think I was calling to say Joanie had returned, did he...? End