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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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The subject line of your email read simply “An Invitation.” I knew it would be something good. No matter what we had done together, I’d always had a great time with you. We’d traveled to faraway places, and had adventures like horseback riding, hiking, and shooting. We had also done less dramatic things like eating out, going to shows, and working out at the gym. Some of our best times together had been simply curled up on the couch watching TV. Being close to you and sharing the intimacy of our togetherness is what I’d loved the most.
When we were the most exposed to each other had been some of the most intensely intimate moments. No doubt those had come during sex. And had we ever had sex! Together we’d explored and pushed our sexual boundaries pretty far, and reveled in our discoveries. Some might think we’d been kinky or overboard, but I’d never thought in those terms. I knew that when it came to sharing physical pleasure, nothing had ever felt wrong or been off limits. Sure, there were hard boundaries, but those were just common sense, and we’d often laughed together about not doing anything that would land us in the ER. That was definitely a hard limit. Otherwise, in our sex life, and in our entire life together, I had absolute trust in you.
So when I saw your invitation, I knew that my answer would be “yes.” I could almost hear myself say that word in the same way I say it during the throes of our passion. The way I say “yes” when you pull my hard cock deep into your mouth, or run your fingernails over my chest. The same way I say “yes” when you penetrate me in the most intimate way of all by thrusting your finger deep into my ass. Yes, yes, whatever you want, anything you want, the answer had been and will always be, “yes!”
With all of these feelings and memories running through me, I opened your email. It was very brief:
You are invited to a play date next Wednesday at 1:00pm.
Location – Our bedroom.
Dress – casual….very casual.
RSVP at your soonest.
There was nothing else, no explanation and no details. “Play date” could mean anything, anything at all. I knew it was your intent to leave a lot to my imagination, to tease me with the possibilities. Teasing and anticipation had always been a big part of our sexual foreplay. I felt a tingle of excitement run through me, and my cock stirred in anticipation of our “play date”.
I almost hit the Reply button in my haste to say yes before I noticed several lines of small text at the very bottom of the email. They read:
Fine Print:
This is a limited time offer. I suggest that you reply with your acceptance very quickly.
Details and instructions will follow.
By accepting this offer you accept ALL conditions, limitations, directions, responsibilities and terms, and anything else that I might decide to impose, direct or otherwise layout for you without restriction. And no, I’m not telling you now.
Don’t bother checking your calendar to see if you’re free. I’ve already checked and you are. No excuses mister!
I’m not responsible for what might happen to you if you say no.
I smiled. “Fine Print” indeed. This was so like you — playful, funny, teasing and demanding all in one. You’d never been one to hide your desires and passions. And even though there was nothing explicit in the email, the depth of your desire came through loud and clear. There was no way on earth that I was going to say no.
My reply was short and sweet, “Yes”. “Yes, yes, a million times yes, anything that you want,” I thought, and pressed the send button.
A very short while later, I saw two items pop-up in my Google calendar. Since you had complete access to that (as well as everything else), I was not surprised to see that you had put our play date on the calendar. I was a little surprised to see that you had also put “Grooming” on the calendar. I knew exactly what you meant by “Grooming.”
I love your body and am very well aware of the attention you devote to keeping yourself physically fit and neat. Your tight rear, and muscled arms don’t just happen by themselves. It’s the result of hard work in the gym (something we share together), and attention to your diet. And likewise, your delicious pussy, devoid of annoying hair, except for a small landing strip at the very top, doesn’t happen by magic either. On a regular basis, you subject yourself to the discomfort of waxing by your favorite beautician, Leena. We’d often laughed together about how she matter-of-factly rips the pubic hair from such a sensitive location. You do that so we can enjoy the erotic pleasure of direct skin contact without pubic hair dulling the sensations.
“No dental floss there,” you’d joked.
So in the same way that you had sculpted your body for our pleasure, you introduced me to body grooming, manscaping. It started out with you trimming my abundant chest hair, a manifestation of my plentiful testosterone, I’m sure. First you did it with a pair of scissors, but it wasn’t long before you bought an electric trimmer so that you could more quickly and evenly trim my “fur”. I immediately appreciated both the neater look and feel. Of course your attention wasn’t limited to my chest hair. You did the same to my pubic area, carefully trimming the hair around my cock and balls to a length short enough so that you didn’t get any of the “dental floss” you hated during oral sex.
I liked my shorter pubic hair even more than my shorter chest hair. Not only were the sensations I felt while we made love more intense and I knew more enjoyable for you, the day-to-day sensitivity of my nearly naked cock and balls kept the pleasure of our sex life in my attention constantly.
It wasn’t long before I began to crave even more stimulation. I sought out ever more minimalistic underwear that cradled my balls and covered as little of me as possible leaving as much of my nearly naked skin exposed as possible. The boxer style underwear got pushed to the back of my dresser drawer in favor of more and more tiny bikinis.
“You’ve become an underwear whore,” you laughed.
But you also said how you liked the way my low and tight bikinis emphasized my cock and make my pants bulge in the front. We’d shopped together online and found ones you liked to see me in, and sometimes you would set out a skimpy pair for me to wear under my work clothes. I enjoyed wearing what you picked because I knew that you’d be thinking all day about how my cock would satisfy you when I got back home. If the guys at work had known I was wearing a thong or a pair of Cox sox they would have only been jealous of the mind-blowing sex that you and I would have later. “Too bad for them if they and their partner weren’t as sexually adventurous as you and me,” I thought.
I really looked forward to the times you would trim me. You called them “grooming sessions” Each time I would lie naked on the bed while you, naked as well, straddled me, your pussy, warm and full, pressing down on me. You’d loom over me with the trimmer ominously buzzing. The sensuality of being so vulnerable and at your mercy while you operated a power tool next to my most sensitive places was overwhelming. My trust in you in those moments was, and still is, complete.
Needless to say, you weren’t surprised when I wanted to move beyond just trimming my pubic hair. I loved the feel of your skin against mine, and I didn’t want even the thinnest layer of hair between my cock and your skin. I’d considered shaving my pubic hair . Not only could I look forward to doing it, but I also would have wanted you to do it to me. It would have been glorious to feel you slather me with warm shaving cream, and then carefully position my cock and balls so you could get just the right angle with the razor. But shaving wasn’t a good option, because the inevitable prickly stubble would have been painful to you when I thrust my cock into you. Depilatories were also not an option. There was no way I was going to put harsh chemicals “down there”. There was only one good option. Just as you put yourself through the relative torture of waxing, so would I.
That was not something that I was going to do lightly. I did my research on the internet and decided that I would try home waxing a small part of myself. If all went well, then I would go all out and bare as much of me as you wanted … and I could take. So I ventured out to Walmart and got some waxing strips. I tried it first on myself, figuring that I needed to experience it before asking you to do it to me. I was surprised that although it did hurt (and made me really appreciate what you go through) it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Before I knew it, I was once more lying naked on the bed under you. This time you wielded warm waxing strips instead of trimmers.
“Spread your legs wide,” you said and pressed the warmed strip against my balls.
“Oooh that feels good,” I thought, warm wax and your hand massaging the strip against my scrotum.
“Are you ready?” you said and broke my reverie.
I pulled my skin as tight as I could stand (I learned from my earlier self-trials that taut skin is very important) and nodded.
“Riiiiip” The pain was immediate and intense, but not overwhelming. I gasped, but proudly did not cry out. You immediately pressed your hand against my newly bare skin, and that very quickly eased the pain. Your hand directly against my skin without any hair in between felt very good. You looked at me lovingly and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Oh yes,” I thought.
“Keep going?” you asked.
I nodded and inside I thought “Oh yes, yes! Keep going.”
It felt so erotic. First the warm wax strip against my skin, then the harsh stinging pain as you ripped out the hair. And finally your hand pressed lovingly against my naked skin, easing the pain. I wanted to feel it again and again. When you got to my waxing perineum the pain was more intense. In some ways that made it better, because I knew that the intensity of whatever pain I felt as you took the hair off, would be more than matched by the intensity of the sensations I would later feel from your hands and mouth on that bare skin.
The final peak of eroticism was when you had me pull my legs over my head so you could wax down over my anus. I had learned earlier in our sexual relationship how much I like ass play. I like the intimacy of giving and receiving anal stimulation. We’d experimented with this, and discovered how to please each other.
“Pull your legs up. Higher. Higher,” you said. I felt a little silly and a lot like a pretzel in this position, my knees beside my ears, bare butt high in the air. You reminded me that you do this with a complete stranger when you get waxed. So I felt lucky to be in this position with the love of my life rather than some stranger. Besides, being exposed to you was so very erotic. I felt the warm wax strip cover the pucker of my opening and up onto the lower part of my perineum.
“This area doesn’t hurt me very much,” you said. But I knew how sensitive I am there, and I was reminded of that as I luxuriated in the pleasure of you rubbing the warm wax strip against me with your hand.
“Here we go,” you warned and then you yanked the strip off.
It was a mixed feeling. While the area immediately around my anus didn’t hurt very much, the pain at my lower perineum was breathtaking. I gasped and felt a little lightheaded. Within seconds your hand was pressed up against me, soothing me, and the pain quickly faded.
“God that feels so good,” I thought.
“We’ve got to stop here. Your skin is kind of red and irritated at this point. We’ll have to come back for more later. Pretty good I think.” you pronounced holding up the wax strips abundantly coated with the hair that you had ripped out of my now very sensitive skin.
There was very little lingering pain, only a faint sting that I discovered got more intense later.
“I need to put some oil on your skin now,” you said.
In seconds I was in heaven. Unbelievable, incredible were the only coherent words that my swirling brain could think of, as you lovingly smeared silky oil over my freshly naked balls, cock, and anus. Your warm slippery hands massaged the oil into me, over my now extremely sensitive skin. I wished that you wouldn’t ever stop doing that, but I knew that I could look forward to more when you finished and “came back for more” at a later date.
Ever since that first grooming and waxing, I’d looked forward to our sessions, the sting of pain, the pleasure of your attention, and especially the end result of bare, naked skin that I enjoy 100% of the time. I’d never go back to being furry, ever. So when I saw that you had put “grooming” on my calendar, my cock jumped yet again.
I remembered that our ability to sexually enjoy each other was limited for a day or two after you waxed me, and I pouted a little on the inside. But if you were putting grooming on the calendar in advance of a play date, I knew the delay would be worth it.
Looking at the calendar, I also noticed that our work schedules were opposite each other after that point, right up until our Wednesday play date. Between the post-grooming hiatus and the schedule, it was going to be a long spell before we could satisfy each other. I knew without a doubt that you had planned it that way. You wanted to build up the sexual anticipation to a feverish pitch before we could bury ourselves in each other and release our pent up energy. “How wickedly wonderful of you,” I thought.
I also knew that between now and next Wednesday you would torture me by sending me emails and texts hinting at what we would do during our play date. You would use that as well to build ever increasing sexual tension. I loved it when we “sexted” and I always tried to match your teases with my own. My cock grew hard in anticipation — anticipation of your grooming, and anticipation of the upcoming teases you would lay down on me. I could have cum right there.
When I got home that evening, you were already there puttering about the kitchen.
“We’re going to the gym together, then we’ll have dinner. It’s going to be stir fry. I’ve made some sangria that’s chilling in the fridge.” you said.
I could tell your in-charge attitude was in full swing. Hey, who was I to resist? Not only did everything you said sound like a great idea, but I loved it when you led the way.
“Now go upstairs and get ready for the gym,” you commanded.
I quickly shed my work clothes and changed into my workout stuff. I pulled on quick dry tee short and a pair of spandex undershorts that I wear under my regular shorts. They are way more comfortable than a jock strap, cup my balls snugly, and prevent chaffing. I also knew that you liked the way I look in them, at least that’s what you’d said before. I grabbed my gym card, some socks and shoes and headed downstairs.
“All set,” I said as I laced up my running shoes. “Let’s get all hot and sweaty,” I teased trying to dish out a little of what I knew you’d soon send my way.
“Don’t you wish,” is all you said with a twinkle in your eye.
An hour and half later, indeed hot and sweaty, we got back home from the gym. As always our workout together was great. We had started our relationship in the gym and it had become a regular part of our lives together. We didn’t get there as often as we’d like, but we both valued how staying physically fit made us feel (in the bedroom and outside) and we knew it would prolong our lives together. That was the most important thing.
“Go ahead and get a shower, while I get dinner started,” you said.
“Get dinner started?” I thought. “What’s to start, it’s stir fry.”
I headed upstairs without giving it another thought and went straight into the shower to clean off. I washed carefully everywhere, especially my cock and balls. I knew that tonight would be the last night I had any hope of “getting some” before the celibacy that would be enforced by my upcoming grooming and our conflicting work schedules. I wanted every nook and cranny as clean as possible. I ran the bar of soap over every surface, and up and down the crack of my ass and around my balls. I wanted those areas especially clean. My cock grew as I did it, thinking of your hands on me, rubbing and cleaning. It had been too long since we played in the shower together. “Maybe that’s what she’s planning,” I fantasized about bathing together while I got clean, but ultimately stepped out of our oversized shower alone. I was pleasantly surprised to hear music playing loudly from the iPod and see a cold drink waiting for me on the counter. “How sweet” I thought. But I also remembered how under these exact same circumstances you surprised me one day as I came out of the shower and made me jump.
“You screamed like a little girl.” you said laughing at me. You still laugh and tell that story. I also remembered that after you surprised me, I made you scream in ecstatic pleasure as we had wildly screwed each other’s brains out right afterward. “Hmmm, I wonder if she’s reminding me of that?” I thought. But you did not surprise me as I got dressed in loose fitting clothes, nor did we fuck our brains out before I got back down to the kitchen to help make dinner.
“Your turn,” I said as I hugged you from behind while you were chopped veggies for the stir fry.
“I’ll get a shower later,” you said “I’m hungry now.”
Trying to get you stirred up I replied “I’m hungry for you now,” and nibbled on your ear lobe.
I heard you moan happily when I did that, but you swatted me away. “Food first.”
Dinner was great, as always. We sat out on the three season porch, chatting as we ate. As usual, our conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next. As sexy as you are, and as much as I loved your physical body, I loved your mind and your spirit even more.
After we cleaned up the dinner dishes you announced “I’m going to shower now. Sit down and watch some TV or something.” Your directions made it clear that I was not invited up into the bathroom with you. Inside I pouted just a little, but I understood that we all need private time, no matter how intimate we might be otherwise. I grabbed my glass of sangria and parked myself in front of the TV to channel surf looking for something to watch while you headed for your shower.
Quite a bit of time elapsed with you in the bathroom and me in front of the TV. I was hoping for a little of the intimacy I’d previously thought about on the couch before bed, but didn’t begrudge you the slightest for taking your time and luxuriating during your shower. When you came down and sat next to me on the sofa, your hair was slightly damp and your skin glowed, freshly washed. You had your terrycloth robe wrapped tightly around you.
“Whatcha watching?” you asked.
“You know, I don’t really know. I’ve been flipping channels. What I want to watch is you,” I replied.
“Really? And what is it that you think you’ll see?”
You sounded playful. My mind raced and my cock stirred. “I want to see all of you, every square inch. There’s not a single part of you that I don’t like to look at, touch or taste,” I said.
“Oh so you want to look at this?” you said, and pulled the lapel of your robe aside so I could see just the edge of your nipple capping your luscious 38 D breast.
“Yes. I love looking at that. But you know, a look is often not enough especially since I really should check and see how good a job you did getting yourself clean,” was my reply.
In mock consternation you said, “You doubt my abilities in the shower do you? What other abilities of mine do you doubt?” You let your robe fall wide open so I could gaze fully at your breasts and see the small strip of fluffy pubic hair just above your pussy.
“I don’t doubt any of your capabilities,” I said. “But it never hurts to double check, you know.”
“Then by all means you should double check. I want you to be absolutely sure,” you said and pulled me off the couch to lead me upstairs to the bedroom.
Sex that night was unbelievable, as usual. Every time we made love, we were both transported to a nether world of ecstasy as we pleased each other with every part of our bodies. While we’d developed a rhythm to our lovemaking, it was never ever routine. That night was no exception. After orgasming together, we cleaned up, wrapped around each other in bed, and fell asleep until the alarm woke me the next morning for another day at work.
I got into the shower both to wake up and to rinse the smell of you off of me. I would have loved to keep the smell of your pussy on me all day, but it wouldn’t have been be wise to go to work smelling of sex. Everyone would have been jealous and the gossip outrageous. After I got out of the shower and dried off, I found that you had laid out a pair of my smallest bikini underwear for me to wear. They clung tightly to my cock and balls. I knew that it would keep me thinking about you all day long.
I finished getting dressed and gave you a peck on the cheek while you lay half asleep in bed. At least I thought you were half asleep until you reached out with your hand to stroke my crotch while I bent over you. “Mmmm. Nice,” you murmured. You gave me an abbreviated hand job confirming that I was wearing under my work clothes what you had picked out for me.
It was a routine day at work. My attention never strayed away from the wonderful sensations from my crotch as my cock and balls rubbed in the underwear you had me wearing. Whenever no one was looking, I’d pull them down as low in my pants as I could so that I increased the stimulation. If your plan had been to keep me on edge all day, it worked.
It was shortly before I left work that I got your text message, “Don’t forget about your grooming appointment this evening. You better not be late!” Not that I’d forget or would ever dream of being late for that, but I did get a stir out of your reminder and my cock began to swell.
“Yes ma’am,” I texted back.
I hoped for something a little out of the ordinary during my grooming that night since our play date was coming up. “Maybe I’ll get some extra trimming, some more extensive waxing, or a little extra ‘attention’ before or after,” I thought. Everything about the experience was breath taking as always: your beautiful naked body straddling over me, your damp pussy lips pushing against my own nakedness, the harsh sting as you pulled the wax off, the sensual soothing oil that you rubbed on me. Even the erotic intimacy of pulling my legs over my head as you waxed my anus bare was amazing. It all felt incredible, but there were no special surprises.
“There you go. Just the way I like it. All smooth and silky. This is going to feel so good during our play date.” you said after you finished working on me. That was the first I heard you even mention that.
“Oh really?” I asked with raised eyebrows. “And what exactly do you have in mind for that?”
“You will find out. Didn’t you read the fine print? You never read anything do you?” you said in pretend frustration. “It said that you agreed to do anything that tell you to do. Do I have to get it out for you to read again?” You gave me a playful smack on the ass. “Now get dressed. Remember to wear loose fitting boxers for a couple of days so you don’t get any irritation or ingrown hairs. I don’t want you to ruin all the hard work I did on my cock,” you said reminding me of how possessive you are of my body parts.
I remained in desperate anticipation the next few days. We worked opposite shifts from each other and about the only way we communicated was via our cell phones. Every now and then I would get a text message or email from you that reminded me about our upcoming date. Each message was a little tease: “How are you feeling? Are you treating my cock well?” or “Are you oiling yourself like I told you to do?” or “Don’t forget to check your calendar, I know how forgetful you are.” Each text sent a tingle of anticipation through me and my cock always grew hard.
On the Monday before our date I got a longer email from you that read:
Please be advised – The invitation for our play date is also a challenge to step outside of your comfort zone. By accepting the invitation, you have also agreed to step outside that zone and comply with all the instructions, rules, and directions that you will receive. You are expected to follow through to your fullest capabilities. More to follow.
“A ‘challenge’?” I thought. There are so many ways that I’d stepped outside my sexual comfort zone with you. We had definitely moved our sex lives out of the bedroom. We’d played with a myriad of toys, explored anal sex, and engaged in public sex. I wondered what you were planning. Whatever it was, I knew that it would be within our mutual hard limits, so I was curious and aroused, but not at all worried.
Getting dressed for work on Tuesday, I found that you had laid out a cockring and a pair of extremely low cut bikini underwear for me to wear. The note you left with them said simply, “Wear these and think of me. Love you.” How would I not think of you all throughout the day wearing that? I’d have to hide the hardon that I knew that outfit would cause. I was sure that was exactly what you wanted.
Wednesday morning arrived bright and not so early . You were up before me, which was not surprising since I hadn’t gotten home from work until almost one-o’clock in the morning. I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs to get coffee. By the pot, I saw a note from you:
Out to run a few errands before our play date. Your instructions are waiting for you in your email. Enjoy your coffee and breakfast (there’s some pastry staying warm in the oven). Love you lots.
PS. Don’t you dare be late! XOXO
“Like there’s a chance in hell that I’d be late!” I thought. I poured some coffee and cut a slice of pastry as I sat down in front of my laptop at kitchen table. I took a few big swallows of coffee. I knew that I had to fully awake before reading your email.
As the first bit of caffeine awakened my brain a notion came to me. “The date is for one-o’clock in the afternoon and it includes a challenge.” At that hour I wouldn’t any alcohol to fortify my courage or loosen my inhibitions. You had always been more secure in your sexuality than I, and had been the one to lead the way in pushing our boundaries. It certainly took very little for me to follow where you led, but inevitably it was you that took charge. Having a little bit of alcohol to loosen me up had often been included in our more adventurous sexual exploits. But in the middle of the afternoon I wouldn’t have that crutch.
“Oh boy, this is really going to be something,” I thought. Now fully awake, I opened your email.
Our date is all set for 1:00 this afternoon. I’m soooo looking forward to being with you. We have as much time to “play” together as we’d like. No interruptions. How yummy! (I could almost see the sparkle in your eyes).
In preparation for our time together please do the following:
Shower well and wash all of your nooks and crannies.
You should be well healed from your grooming, so no need to apply any oil.
Apply cologne liberally. You know how much I like smelliness.
Gather some toys from our hiding place and have them in easy reach. Pick our favorites.
Get us both something cold to drink. Whatever you want, but no alcohol for me.
Get completely undressed (yes I mean everything) and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be there at 1:00.
Don’t forget the terms and conditions of the original invitation. You have agreed to do absolutely everything and anything I’ve planned and that I will ask you to do. Remember that I love you and want to have fun together as we play. Trust me.
Your love, always
“Well okay,” I thought. “That doesn’t sound so extreme.” Anyway I did trust you, absolutely and completely. I finished my late breakfast and looked at my watch. There was just enough time for me to leisurely comply with your instructions. I headed upstairs to shave, shower and get ready.
Twelve-fifty arrived and I was ready. I had closely shaved, washed every nook and cranny clean, and liberally applied your favorite cologne. Two big glasses of water sat by the bedside (if you weren’t going to drink alcohol, then I wouldn’t either), and a selection of our favorite toys was in easy reach. Last, but I hoped not least, was me. I sat stark naked on the bed in accord with your directions, and in growing anticipation of what was to come. My cock had been swelling and shrinking for days thinking about what you might have planned. While I was getting ready, it had remained mostly tensely swollen, a situation aggravated by our abstinence over the past week. I had thought several times about relieving myself in the shower. It would have felt so good to jerk off thinking about your hot pussy under my hand, or about your hard nipples in my mouth. But the timing had never quite worked out. Whenever I was in the shower, you happened to be around. I wasn’t ever sure that you wouldn’t walk in on me, cock in my hand, cum spurting as I moaned out my climax. I’m not ashamed that I masturbate. As the saying goes “There are those that masturbate, and those that lie.” However, for whatever reason, masturbation was never something that I had ever felt comfortable doing in front of you. So after a week without any relief, I was on the ragged edge.
As I sat on the bed, I heard you come in through the garage door. “Hi honey. I’m home and will be right up,” you called to me from downstairs. “Are you ready for me? Did you follow all of my directions?”
“Hell yes!” I thought. I was so ready for you. My cock throbbed in agreement.
You have an uncanny way of reading my mind so I wasn’t surprised to hear you say, “I’m so ready for you,” in a husky, lust filled voice.
I had no idea what you were doing downstairs, but it whatever it was seemed to take forever. When you confidently strode into the bedroom only wearing the sexiest red bra and panties I’d ever seen, my question was answered. It was a brand new set that you put on just for that day. At that moment I was very glad that you had picked one-o’clock in the afternoon for our date, because the light streamed in through the windows and positively illuminated you.
“Do you like?” you asked.
It was a tease filled with sexual overtones. I was speechless. I’m sure that I was drooling on the outside. Because on the inside I was screaming “Hell yes I like! I’m going to fuck your brains out!” The only words I was able to actually say were, “Oh my god! You look so hot!” I started to get up off the bed so that I could attack you and start doing what my brain had just told me to do.
“No. no! I want you to sit right there. Do not move.” You pointed your finger at me threateningly. “This is one of the terms and conditions. You do what I tell you to, and I want you to stay right there.”
“How can I refuse? I’d given my promise, hadn’t I?” I thought. And besides I wanted to do whatever you wanted me to. I stayed on the bed, staring at you, drinking in the sight of your gorgeous breasts barely encased in the red satin, black lace trimmed bra. I could see your hard nipples through the thin material. The panties were cut very low in the front and very high around your legs and ass. A small tuft of pubic hair escaped over the top of the waist band and your smooth labia were barely covered. I could easily see the curve of your ass cheeks well below the bottom edge of the panties as you pirouetted before approaching the bed. My cock throbbed and my balls ached.
“Good. I see that you read my instructions and got everything ready. Did you do everything else that I asked?”
I nodded.
“I better double check,” you said, and leaned forward to sniff me. Your breasts swayed down as you bent toward me. I flashed back to how they felt brushing against my chest when you mount me and fuck me from on top. My breath and pulse quickened. My cock jumped.
“Yes. Good boy. One of my favorites,” you said taking a deep inhale. “Did you clean all your nooks and crannies?”
I nodded again.
“Did you?” You questioned again. “Which ones did you clean?”
“All of them.” I answered.
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked which ones you cleaned. Please answer and be specific.”
My heart started pounding harder. I knew what you were doing. This was part of the challenge, I was sure. You wanted me to tell you specifically what I did. I had done this to you in the past, and asked you explicitly tell me how to please you down to the smallest detail. It was extremely erotic to hear you to tell me specifically where and how you how you liked me to touch you. It was a small window into your mind and your passions and your desires when you did that. I loved it. Now, you wanted me to do the same with you. This wasn’t something I’d ever done before, and I felt a bit uncomfortable, but I had promised.
I began slowly. “I rubbed soap over my nipples and around my arm pits. I used the soap to wash around my balls and cock. Then I ran the bar of soap up my rear and lathered everywhere. I made sure everywhere was very clean.”
You were leaning forward toward me as I was talking. Your breasts swayed with each breath. You half closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “Did you stroke your cock while you were cleaning?”
“Yes” I replied.
“Tell me how you stroked that glorious cock, the one that I love sucking.”
My breathing got heavier in sync with yours as I went on. “I started at the base of my hard cock and closed my hand around it as I ran my soapy fingers up and down.” I could tell you were getting more excited as I continued, so I added more description. “I pulled on it imagining your hands stroking me. I moaned and closed my eyes as I pulled and twisted my warm slippery hand all around myself, squeezing and rubbing like you do.”
Your breathing was getting even harder. That turned me on even more, and encouraged me to go even further. “I used my other hand to cup my balls. My naked, smooth balls. The ones you stripped clean of hair.”
“Did they feel good in your hand like they do in mine?” you panted.
I leaned in close to you, my lips inches from yours, your eyes now fully closed obviously envisioning what I was describing.
I was really getting into it now. “Yes,” I breathed out. “Yes they felt so good in my warm, wet soapy hand. I cupped and fondled my balls as I was stroking my cock. I pulled and rubbed, getting slippery soap everywhere. Everything felt soooo good in my hand. I imaged your hands there, and my balls surged at that thought. My cock swelled and got very hard in my other hand as I kept stroking myself.”
Your breathing was absolutely ragged. “Tell me about your ass. Did you clean your ass really well for me?”
It was so arousing. I’d never thought that I could so explicitly talk about touching myself. A shower had always been just a shower, not much to talk about. The only times it was ever a sexual experience was when we showered together, or when I jacked off there in private. Describing it this way to you was so sensual, so erotic that I didn’t want to stop. Like so many other sexual experiences that we’d shared, I didn’t want to hold back. With you I wanted to push it farther.
“I rubbed the bar of soap up my ass. I started from my heavy balls, and slooowly dragged it up through the crack. It felt so slippery and full as I slid up there. I imagined your hand and fingers there. I could feel your hand pressing the warm, wet, slippery soap into me. I held my cock with my other hand. It throbbed and felt so good. I moaned out loud for you as I rubbed and thought about your hands on me.”
“Your hole. Tell me about your asshole,” you panted, barely getting the words out.
“Oh I cleaned that really carefully for you. I made sure it was extra clean. I rubbed the soap all over the outside. I could feel myself pucker. My skin is so bare and smooth there now. I could feel every slippery stroke. Oooh, it felt so good. I didn’t get any inside me. That wouldn’t be good. Only lube goes in there. It goes in there with your fingers as they plunge deep into my tight hole. Or when you put a toy in there and stroke me before I cum. I’m all clean for you back there.” I finished.
I knew I had gotten to you the way I wanted. I could see a damp spot spreading on your red satin underwear, and I could smell the wetness of your pussy. I leaned forward an extra inch, and kissed you deeply. We held that kiss for a long time as our tongues danced around in each others’ mouths.
Slowly we both settled down, backing away from our mutual spiral toward orgasm. My balls were aching, and my hard cock was beginning to leak pre-cum. Wow, I’d never have thought that I could arouse myself that much with just words. It was the way you got turned on that had really gotten to me. Anything, absolutely anything that got you excited, in turn excited me, but this words-only experience was something new.
“Oh lover,” you said as you sat down on the bed after fully recovering. “That was so hot. I love hearing how you cleaned yourself for me in the shower. You know I love touching your body. I’m glad you enjoyed touching it ,too.”
You sat across from me with your legs spread wide so I could look directly at your pussy straining against the thin satin fabric of your damp panties. God, I wanted to touch you there, stroke you, taste you, but you were in charge of this play date and I was going to follow your lead wherever it went.
“So tell me what you like.” you said, your hand idly, but very intentionally, stroking the smooth satin at the edge of your bra.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Tell what you like to feel when we make love. Tell me where you like me to touch you, how you want me to touch you. I want to know. I want to please you. So tell me details.”
I thought I had gone pretty far describing my shower, now you wanted this?
“I like it when you touch my nipples, especially the very first touch. It’s like electricity.”
“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” you reached out and ran your finger gently over my left nipple. Instantly it got hard, and I moaned.
“Yes, yes,” I said.
“Then tell me more,” you insisted still stroking me.
“You start out like that and it feels so good. Your fingers are cool at first, but heat up quickly as I heat up. You rub your palms over them.” Before I could say anything else, you reached toward me and rubbed both of my nipples with your palms just like I was describing.
“Go on,” you urged.
My excitement rose and my descriptions became more detailed. “You start gently pinching me. As I get more and more excited your pinches get harder and harder. I like that. I like it when you rake your nails down my chest and ….uggh!” you did exactly what I just described.
I caught my breath before I went on. “I can feel the heat of your nails and I want more, harder, but you don’t always give in to me. You hold back teasing. Sometime rubbing gently, sometimes harder. Sometime with your fingers, sometimes with your nails.”
My description got choppy, no longer full sentences. I was getting more and more aroused as I described what you do, and you in turn acted it out on me. My balls ached. My cock throbbed and I was definitely dripping. My skin was on fire, my head was pounding and I longed for more and more of your touch.
“Go on, lover. Tell me more. How do you like me to touch your cock? That wonderful cock that we share.”
I thought, “Oh God, you’re going to do that to me there too. I can’t wait.”
“You cup my naked balls, stroke them. Your fingers on the tip of my cock. You squeeze and pull. Your fingers stroke me, soft at first, then harder. When I drip, you rub me with it.” You did each of the things as I described it. It was amazing. I was reduced to a blithering mess, panting, my heart racing.
Before I exploded, you drew back from me. I could tell that you were aroused too. The wet spot on your panties had grown considerably bigger and your lovely, musky smell was even stronger. The twinkle in your eye got brighter. “Uh, oh,” I thought.
“Oh baby, lover. That was so sexy hearing you tell me how you like me to touch you. I love touching you. Tell me how you like to touch yourself.”
My heart stopped. “Did you say ‘Tell me how you like to touch yourself’?” I thought. “You want me to tell you how I masturbate!?” My brain screamed, “That’s private!” I’d never shared with anyone, even you. It had always somehow felt wrong to say anything to you about me masturbating.
I saw your eyes flash with barely hidden warning, “All the terms and conditions lover, all of them!” you say with a barely veiled threat.
“Uh , uh,” I stammered. My cock deflated quickly. Encouraging me, you reached out and held my cock in your hand.
“Do you do this?” you asked gently stroking me. My cock stirred and my heart sped up. “Or do you do this?” you began fondling my balls with your other hand. “Tell me what you do.”
“Yes I do that,” I panted.
“Do what? Tell me.” You insisted.
“I hold my cock like that,” I blurted out.
Before I could go on, you asked, “Right hand or left?”
“With my right hand.”
You began peppering me with questions, distracting me so that I’d talk without thinking about being embarrassed. “Do you squeeze it or pull on it? Where do you start? What’s your favorite part to touch?”
My head spun with your touch and the idea that you were going to get me to openly describe how I masturbate. The sexuality of being that open with you while you fondled me, drove me on. I wanted to tell you. “I squeeze until my cock gets hard enough to stroke it. I rub the underside because it’s so sensitive there. I rub with the bottom of my wrist, up and down as it gets harder and harder.”
“Like this?” you asked, doing to me exactly what I’d just described.
“Yes,” I panted “Yes like that.”
“Mmmm I know that must feel good,” I heard you say past the blood that was pounding in my ears.
I got bolder as I got more and more turned on. “But it’s not slippery enough. My hand is too rough. I’ll go in the shower and use something to lubricate myself.” I said.
I should have seen it coming, but at this point I wasn’t able to think clearly. “You mean something like this?” you said as you squeezed a large drop of cold lube onto my cock head. I gasped as you rubbed along the underside at my most sensitive spot with the tip of your thumb.
“Like this?” you asked again.
I was frozen, speechless. It was impossible for me to answer.
I also should have suspected what happened next. I’m absolutely sure you planned it this way.
“Show me!” you commanded. ” Show me how you please yourself. Show me how you jack yourself off. I want to see.”
Without any thought of resisting you, without hesitation (I wanted so badly to please you), I wrapped my hand around my throbbing cock and slid it up and down, spreading the lube so that I was fully coated and slippery. It felt good, and inside I was so happy to obey you and show off for you.
“Oh baby, that looks soooo good. I just know it feels so good. God, that’s hot. Tell me how good it feels.”
Again there was no way I could refuse you. I didn’t want to. I moaned loudly. “My cock is so hard. It’s warm and slippery wet. Just like the inside of your pussy,” I added thinking I might arouse you.
I heard the excitement and lust build in your voice. “Don’t stop. Show me how you stroke that hard cock. Let me see it slide in and out of your hand. Oh, that’s so sexy the way you jerk that cock, that cock of mine.”
It went on for a minute or two like that, but before I could finish myself off, you reached out with your hand and stopped me. I was panting and I’m not sure there was much blood flowing to my brain. I was so turned on at that moment that I would have done anything you asked. You had me right where you wanted me.
“Baby, do you do anything else when you jerk off? Have you ever fingered your ass or used one of our toys in there?” you asked.
I couldn’t deny you anything at this point? Why would I have wanted to? “Yes,” I gasped out.
“Show me, baby. Show me how you please yourself in the ass. I want to see everything.” You held up a favorite toy of ours from the pile on the bed, the Aneros butt plug. It was already covered in lube. You knew, you had planned all of this, and you were ready.
“Show me how you slide it into your tight hole while you jack your cock. I want to see,” you once again commanded.
I was in a daze, and desperate to comply, to satisfy your obvious lust. I could hear it in your voice and I so needed to please you. I leaned back, exposing my anus and I heard you gasp at the sight. You knew what was about to happen and it excited you. I held my cock hard and placed the bulbous end of the slick butt toy against the pucker of my hole and began pushing.
The lube felt so cool and wonderful against me. Just as if I had been alone, I pushed the toy into my ass, just past the first sphincter. I paused for just a second and then pushed again so that slid all the way up into me. The sensation was amazing, stretched and stuffed full. From somewhere deep in my brain I thought how happy I was to be sharing this most intimate act with you. But it wasn’t a conscious thought at that point, I wasn’t capable of that.
“Yes, baby. That’s it. Oh, that looks so hot!” Your breathless encouragement urged me on. “Stroke it in and out. Fuck yourself in the ass with your toy. Stroke your cock. Do it all! Show me!”
I could hear you getting more and more turned on, the tension in your voice rising. I opened my half closed eyes wide and saw that you’d pulled your panties aside and were furiously rubbing your clit and pulling hard on your nipple. My own lust went into overdrive and my mind spun yet again. As you were guiding me though my own exhibitionist masturbation, you were enjoying your own self-pleasure.
You moaned, getting closer to your own orgasm. You ground your hips hard against your hand and thrust your fingers in and out of your now dripping wet pussy, stroking your G spot. Despite your building climax, you were able to stay in charge, and continued, “That’s it, baby. Stroke that cock for me. Show me how you like it in the ass. I want to see you cum. Show me how you explode. Cum for me!”
You were shouting and panting, face flushed, hand and fingers flying over your pussy. Your raspy voice was filled with desire. I knew that only my cum filled orgasm would satisfy you, and I so wanted to satisfy you. My right hand was gripped hard around my cock, stroking up and down its full length from the tip to my balls coated in warm, slippery lube. My ass was filled with the Aneros as I thrust in and out of me. I was on the edge of the glorious release that you wanted. It wasn’t going to take much to send me over the edge.
“Yes baby. Cum! Cum for me!” Your lust filled command did it. My balls surged, my cockhead swelled, and my sphincter clamped down on the Aneros forcing it against my prostate. With a loud groan I exploded, shooting a stream of hot cum from the end of my pulsing cock. It splashed on to me and onto you, and that was your trigger. Past the pounding of my pulse in my ears and my gasping breath, I heard you scream out as your orgasm peaked and you came, the juices flooding out of your pussy, over your hand and into the bed sheets mixing with my own cum.
We both spasmed a few more times as the power of our orgasms faded. Our breathing slowed down in unison as we gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes.
“That was incredible,” you were finally able to say (still in charge).
“Oh my God, yes,” I answered.
We had just shared the most intimate sensual experience I can think of. What was once a personal and hidden act, you had brought out into the literal broad daylight and we shared it beautifully with each other. It was an experience of unbelievable passion and bonding. I smiled broadly knowing that this was not the end of our sharing … nowhere near it. |
