Elise Ch. 03

Literotic asexstories – Elise Ch. 03 by BillyTripp,BillyTripp
“Elise,” Chapter 3 — M solo mast, erotic dream (MF, spank, finger)

Sandy

“What the hell does volleyball have to do with connecting with a potential young sub for adult games?” I asked my daughter.

I knew that shit-eating grin of Rachel’s too well. As usual, her devious mind was one step ahead of mine, and she was loving it.

“Well, sitting in my office the other day, I was reflecting on that very question you just asked — how could you, an older man, credibly and without arousing suspicion, meet a suitable young lady, one young enough to easily be your granddaughter. Well, I had a brainstorm all of a sudden. What if the female student I select for you plays a sport, one for which you could go watch her compete, observe her for an hour or more, right out in the open, be able to make mental notes about her based on her reactions, nonverbal cues, that sort of thing, from your seat in the bleachers, finagle a way to meet her after the match, then cause things to develop as they will?”

“You make all this sound so simple.”

“Well, it is, really. I don’t know if you’re aware, but volleyball is typically the first girls’ sport of the school year, with the season taking place largely in September and October. By now, practice for the season has begun at our two high schools, so rosters, at least upperclassmen on rosters, are known.”

With that twinkle in her eye that told me she thought she was really onto something, she continued, “So, I cross-checked the list of ‘submissive’ possibilities I had compiled, against the volleyball rosters at each school, and wouldn’t you know it? The girl I would have placed at the top of my list does indeed play volleyball, as a starter for one of the high schools.”

Incredulous at this news, I countered, “So you’re saying you have a ‘candidate’ picked out for me already?”

“Yes, but I cannot disclose anything about her until the second week of September. That’s when she turns 18. At that time, I can give you the information you’ll need, and the rest will be up to you.”

“That is, if I go along with your nasty little plan at all, right sweetie?”

“Well, of course, Dad. But you so obviously have a need to try to fill the hole in your sex life left by Mom’s absence, that I think it likely you’ll go along with this in the end.”

“Pretty sure of yourself there, little girl.”

Rachel chuckled, replying “It’s not hard to be sure of this. I know you well, and I sense what you’re so obviously lacking. I also know how much you relished your role as the caring, benevolent Dom all those years. It’s not just something any normal person could merely cast aside with a shrug and never revisit. And least of all you, who took such joy and pleasure in that role, much of it by seeing to your sub’s pleasure and well-being. I see this as helping you get back in the game, a game that was an essential part of your life for so long, and at the same time help provide structure and a positive adult relationship, at least one outside of the school setting, to a shy but extremely mature, intelligent, and perceptive young lady who lacks confidence in herself, but badly needs to develop some — and self-awareness as well — before she heads off next year to college and its dangerously uncertain dating environment.”

I had to shake my head in admiration. “You know, daughter dear, you should have sold used cars. You’ve almost got me believing that this insane little scheme could work for everyone involved.”

“You just turn this over in your head and heart for the next little while, Dad. Let me know if there’s anything we didn’t cover to your satisfaction. And now, I ought to be going, since, unlike all those lucky teachers in our system, I work tomorrow, and need my beauty rest.”

With that, Rachel thanked me for dinner, and we said our good-byes. Soon, I was left sitting in my living room, my head spinning, trying to manage all the thoughts and emotions that our little conversation had dredged up during the evening.

***************

That night, I had trouble getting to sleep, as thoughts of my conversation with Rachel kept swirling in my head. Would it be possible to have another Dom-sub relationship? And with an 18-year-old, a girl 45 years my junior? Did I even want to go there? And did I want to involve my daughter, who had worked so hard to reach the level of professional achievement she had — even though she seemed to be fully comfortable and on board with what she was proposing?

I finally fell into an uneven sleep, waking up several times and then falling back into another few minutes of fitful unconsciousness. Some time in the middle of the night, I had an extremely vivid dream. In it, I was looking down on Beth and me, in our “playroom” we had in our former house in the Bay Area.

Early on in our marriage, when our BDSM kink was firmly established, I had outfitted a spare bedroom with essential tools for our purposes — a four-post bed equipped with restraints, a special bench for the same purpose, a massage table, chains suspended from the ceiling, and accessories such as paddles, floggers of different types, feathers, clamps, anal plugs, and blindfolds. Not a completely furnished torture dungeon by any means, but all we needed for our brand of relatively light, gentle play.

In that room, my wife and I had spent many wonderful hours of emotional and sexual bliss over the years. Only Beth and I had ever seen inside the room. It had not even been shown to Rachel, although she did exhibit some curiosity here and there about what might be behind the locked “mystery door.” She well knew in general what the room was for, but, as with her parents’ sex life, she knew none of the details. When I moved to Blanksville, I dismantled the room and brought everything with me, re-assembling it in a room in my present house. The new room, to that point, had been locked and never been used, and I entered it only to maintain its cleanliness.

In my dream that night, Beth was loosely restrained in the bed, lying on her stomach, blindfolded but not gagged, her wrists and ankles comfortably fastened in soft leather straps attached to each post. We were both naked. From my vantage point from above, my body seemed to dominate her smaller one. I am just under six feet tall, and Beth was small by comparison, barely 5 feet tall and maybe 100 pounds. And whereas my skin was slightly tanned in color, hers was pearly white, as if completely pure and untouched. The overall contrast presented a stark, visually symbolic illustration of our respective roles as dominant and submissive. The scene was so vivid, I remembered it clearly after I awakened, and indeed still to this day.

I was kneeling on the bed beside my bound wife, with my favorite riding crop in my hand. I was punishing her with the crop, using strokes just hard enough to create a little pain, but not too much. I gave her a stroke or two on each ass cheek, then I would stop and rub the cheeks a little. Beth would alternate between a loud “Ugh” when being whipped, to a moan or a coo when being caressed. I repeated the pattern several times, Beth increasing her squirming within her loose confines, becoming more aroused as we went on.

Finally, one time after I caressed her cheeks, I dipped a hand down in-between her slightly open thighs, running a finger up and down her slit, all the way from her clitoris to her asshole. She was already soaking wet, and my finger glided easily along her entire length. After three or four times up and down like that, I brought my finger up so I could taste her slick juices, at the same time resuming the spanking/caressing pattern. After a few more cycles of that, I again dipped the finger down into her crevice, this time stopping to briefly rub her clit, then to enter her with the finger, swirling it around. Her moaning was getting louder now. I heard her breathe out “Oh yes, Daddy” several times as I again repeated my finger action at her core several more times.

I went back to the spanking and caressing, and then to the fingering, each time spending a longer time rubbing her slick spend all over her inflamed clit and its surrounding area, while now inserting two fingers into her vagina, curling them downward to briefly, tantalizingly, touch her G-spot. At this point she was panting “Please Daddy, I need you” over and over.

I wasn’t quite finished, though. I resumed one more round of spanking and rubbing, eliciting a frustrated groan from my beautiful, bound wife. But, as she again got into the alternating cycles of abuse and gentle care, she was softly groaning, each sound lasting the entire duration of my caresses of her tender backside. When I again ran my hand down her cleft, she shuddered against her restraints, pushing her entire torso up against my fingers as hard as she could. On my second or third trip into her pussy with my two fingers, she gushed more liquid as she came to her release, squeezing my fingers inside her depths for a moment or two.

As she came down from her delicious high, I continued to gently touch her front wall, again rubbing her G-spot softly. At this moment, she breathed out “Oh God, fuck me Daddy. Please fuck my naughty little pussy.” I responded in a low voice, “What’s that? Tell me what you want, babygirl, louder.” At that, she practically screamed “FUCK ME DADDY. NOW. PLEASE.”

Never one to ignore such an urgent request by such a beautiful lady, I removed my hand from her soaked cunt, moving behind her and hiking her torso up as high as the restraints allowed, which from experience was set just high enough to afford us the best angle for penetration. My penis was a steel pipe in my other hand. Just to add a little bit more to the scene, I asked her one last time, “How do you want to be fucked, babygirl?” Beth told me loudly, in a voice full of lust, “Hard. Deep. Pound it home, Daddy. Give me all of your hard cock. Ram it inside of me. Make me feel every bit of you. Make me cum so hard on your big Daddy cock. Please. NOW!”

I lined myself up with her dripping hole, and in one motion I gave her what she had asked for, in one wonderfully satisfying motion driving as deep as my seven inches would go, our pubes meeting as I bottomed. She responded with a long, drawn-out wail, “Ohhhh YEEEESSSS DADDY!” I pumped my prick as fast as I could in and out of her juicy cunt, while at the same time my hands on her hips forced her body back toward mine, in rhythm on each stroke. My only thought at this point was making the two of us orgasm together. It didn’t take her long, as she gave a long screech and her vaginal walls grabbed me with impossible tightness. A couple more trips through that vise-like grip was all I could take, and I felt that ecstatic tingling in my groin, and I threw my head back as my cock pumped a fresh load of my semen deep into my wife’s receptive depths.

At that, I suddenly woke up from my dream, fully aroused. So aroused that I didn’t think of where I was, or when. I thrust my hand inside my shorts, grabbing my hot smooth rod. It was harder than I think it had been in years. Without even thinking, I wrapped my hand around it, pumping it savagely, as fast and as hard as I could, visions of my highly erotic dream still fresh in my mind. I was imagining fucking my darling Beth, my lovely little babygirl, in the most vigorous and brutal way I could, pumping her depths full of cum as I just had in my dream.

In no more than thirty seconds, I came violently, shooting my load repeatedly inside my shorts and all over my hand, until I was completely spent. I withdrew my hand from my shorts, wiped it dry on my T-shirt, while waiting for my labored breath to return to normal. I had no energy to move, get up, or get myself cleaned up. I turned to my side and slowly drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep, not waking up until mid-morning.

***************

When I finally awakened, got out of bed, and went into my bathroom to relieve myself, I couldn’t pull my shorts down without painfully tearing pubic hair out. As I wet the front of my shorts in an attempt to loosen some of the dried spunk, my mind finally caught up, recalling what had happened in the middle of the night.

You can be assured that I did some heavy thinking that day. I reflected back on my life together with Beth, particularly the times we spent playing in the bedroom and in the “special” room. I was always aware of the impact all of it had on me, but was it possible, even at that, I might have actually been UNDERestimating my need for and my dependence on the activity we enjoyed together?

Sure, I had dreams about Beth periodically. Who wouldn’t after 38 happy years together? But by and large, those were dreams about doing everyday things, where she was still alive, with me, and just a piece of the tableau of the dream, part of a pleasant little remembrance.

But the vivid one I had had the night before was a whole different matter. I didn’t only see what we were doing in that room, I FELT it, down to my marrow. I was re-living the hot, erotic sexual play with my wife that I had reveled in for so long, but could never again have. I experienced it deep in my sleep, it affected me physiologically while I slept, it left me in such a state of arousal and horniness, that when I suddenly woke up from it, I was still so absorbed in it that, in that moment, all I knew is that I had to somehow get my cock back into her pussy, or at least into whatever most closely approximated it, at once. The best way I could understand it was that reliving our sex life in such striking detail created in me a sudden animalistic craving to have my pleasure, at that moment, by whatever means was available, and damn the setting or the consequences.

Frankly, the intensity of that dream and its aftermath frightened me — as well as the extent to which I was literally out of control for a short time. I had never been one to give into primitive impulses so readily. Growing up, I had a measured, reasoned approach to everything modeled quite well for me by both my parents, well-matched as low-key individuals in white-collar positions, as well as several good friends I was fortunate to have. I had, without exception, always conducted my relationships with Beth and Rachel, as well as those with friends and at work, with caution and restraint, always carefully considering what was truly best for all involved.

Later that day, I came to the conclusion my subconscious was telling me something that my conscious mind had tamped down since Beth’s illness and death. And that was that not only did I want a new Dom-sub relationship, but that I NEEDED one. The dream had sent me the unmistakable message that, without one, there was a hole in my life, the depth of which I had not even been fully aware.

I called Rachel that very evening, after she was home from work, giving her an executive summary of the dream and its impact, obviously leaving out the most intimate parts. I told her I’d given it a lot of thought, that I’d decided that going forward with finding a Dom-sub relationship was important to me, and that I wanted to go full-speed-ahead. It sounded like she was happy to hear that, and if I had ever had any doubt as to my daughter’s love for me and her concern for my happiness, her reaction to my decision certainly dispelled any such misgivings. Despite her assurances to me the previous evening that she was completely comfortable with her role in this little scheme we were planning, I made her promise to again carefully consider her risks, before sharing any information with me that could potentially get her in trouble if any of her actions in that regard was ever discovered.

***************

In the several weeks that followed, I tried to relax and go about my routine. In addition to my normal reading, walks, gardening, and sports on TV, I actually took a couple of weekend trips, which helped me dwell less on what was just ahead for me. And of course, I made sure the house was in great shape — even the “special” room. Who knew when I might need it for fun with a new playmate? I wanted it ready to go.

***************

The school year in Blanksville and surrounding areas started, and I was paying more attention to it than usual. I think it was all part of my mental preparation for something that would be very new and exciting — meeting a shy, reserved, but curious high school girl, and working my plan to get her into my life in a role we’d both enjoy and benefit from immensely.

***************

On the evening of September 13, a Wednesday, I was sitting on my front porch, reading and observing the goings-on around our neighborhood, in which resided adults and children of all ages. It was warmer than average for the time of year, but still comfortable. That’s the thing about living in a desert: As they say, it’s a dry heat. If you don’t move around too rapidly and lose too much water, even 90 degrees can be comfortable here.

My phone rang, and I saw that it was Rachel. I was glad for the call, since, not talking to her yet this week, I was already going through withdrawal — that’s how close and companionable we were. I picked up. “Hey, Rach. So glad to hear from you. How’s life treating you this week in the world of school administration?”

“Oh, you know, just the normal fires to put out. But I never mind that. Whereas in the corporate world, the fires usually involve something sterile like numbers, assets, or maybe insufferable adults, in my work they usually involve one or more impressionable kids or teens. Always a chance to change a life for the better, or at least make a small impression in one. That’s why I like it so much.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so perfect for you. So what’s new?”

“Well, today, Daddy dear, is the big day. Our girl turned 18 today.”

Despite my weeks of mental preparation, I got a little butterfly in my gut at that moment, knowing that now the quest for a partner for my naughty but nice adult activities could begin, that now the possibility of having one was real. “That’s great. I’ve been waiting for what seems like forever. It’s been a test, even of my legendary patience.”

She snickered at the other end. “I know, and I think you’ve handled it well. After what you told me about that dream and your revelation about your need to reprise your old familiar role more than you had previously thought, I was sort of expecting you to call up and bug me every day without end. But even when we’ve gotten together, you haven’t brought it up. All I can say is that you have more patience than I ever have. I was never able to wait that long for something I knew was coming my way, without going a little crazy in the meantime.”

“Heh. I think it was due to all my experience with those ‘insufferable adults’ of which you spoke, the ones I was blessed, or cursed as the case may be, to work with. It took the patience of Job sometimes, not to either curse them out on the spot, or just flat punch them in the nose.”

She laughed. “I hear that.” My daughter then got right down to business. “Do you have a paper and pencil to write down the relevant info?”

“Right here with me. Fire away when ready.”

“OK. Her name is Elise Claire Madrigal. Goes by ‘Elise’. You already know her age and birth date. She is 5’8″ — at least that’s what they measured her at for sports. As you’ve always said, take that with a grain of salt.”

“Well, I’m not too much taller. So should be pretty easy to get a bead on that.”

“Right. She has two parents living at home, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Yeah, I’ll get to that. They are Ross Madrigal and the former Elaine Robinson. She has one sibling, an older brother, Brett Francis Madrigal, who graduated in May, 5 years ago, from the same high school Elise attends, Zirconia. He enrolled at the University of Washington, and that’s where we lost track of him. He should be 23 now.

“Ross, her father, works in San Francisco during the week, comes home on the weekends. At least he did when Elise’s 7th grade teacher reported it off her notes during a parent-teacher conference. Elise’s mother is a nurse and works 12-hour shifts. She isn’t home much in the evenings. Elise has apparently been condemned to be what used to be called a ‘latchkey child’, at least since middle school when her brother left for college. Both parents work high-powered jobs involving long hours, and from all accounts have very little left for home or child-rearing.

“Thus, Elise has been left on her own for a long time. And to her credit, it appears she’s actually benefited from it. She is a top student, shouldn’t have a problem getting into a good college. She is one of those types who keeps her head down and just works, as I told you I observed with a lot of ‘submissive’ kids. But one thing that comes out over and over from her teachers and coaches, is that she is VERY competitive. When a lesson in her classes is presented as any kind of competition, she jumps at the challenge, and wins more than her share. Perhaps this is why she doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. Not that it seems to bother her. From all accounts, she is very proficient at, and comfortable with, being alone, not surprising given all the time she’s had to be.

“She is active in sports. Volleyball, obviously, where she’s a starter but not a star. And soccer, where she IS a star. Her soccer coach projects her as an almost certain prospect to play in college, at least at the Division 2 or community college level. Might score a scholarship for that, should she wish to go in that direction.”

I cut in, “Sounds like a remarkably well-rounded young lady, for someone presented with the obstacles she has at home.”

“It sure appears that way. And one other thing. According to several teachers, this girl is GOOD at discussing almost anything. And when she really gets going, there’s none of this looking down at her feet as she’s talking to you. She looks you straight in the eye, challenging you to respond to whatever point she’s making. Unless I miss my guess, and I’ve been around enough modern-day high school students to make an educated one on this, that’s probably another reason she doesn’t have a ton of friends. Many others in her age group are not as well prepared for logical argument, that rigorous give-and-take, as she is, so are not as secure in what they are saying. Coming up against someone VERY secure in her positions like she is, and one always prepared to support her arguments, can be an intimidating experience for some of those kids. I don’t think she’s on the school’s debate team, but it sounds as if she should probably be.

“But here’s another thing. Teachers and coaches alike report that she’s unfailingly polite and courteous, always respectful of others’ opinions, at least outwardly. And she’s extremely teachable and coachable. None of this typical teenage angst or petulance you see all the time. In a lot of ways, she’s an adult in an adolescent’s body. Which is why I’m very comfortable sharing her information.”

“I hate to use this word with you of all people, but she already sounds sorta sexy, in some intriguing ways.”

“Off the description I just gave you, I’m not surprised you feel that way. She reminds me of Mom a little, the way she definitely has a submissive side, but can be assertive when necessary, without crossing the line into counterproductive aggression.”

“I must say I’m excited to make young Elise’s acquaintance and see what could develop. Can you, by any chance, direct me to the Zirconia volleyball schedule? I’d obviously like to attend the next home match.”

“No problem. I have it for you. I’m e-mailing it to you for easy reference.”

“Great, sweetie. I can’t thank you enough. And again, before I put anything into action, are you 100% sure you’re OK with me using the info you just provided in the way I intend to?”

“Yes, Dad. If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be having this call. But I know you, better than anyone else in the world. I know that if you have a relationship with Elise or anyone else I recommend to you, it will be done the right way, with the greatest consideration for the welfare and feelings of all concerned. You will never let any harm of any type come to any partner of yours, and such a relationship will benefit your partner as much or more than it does you. And Dad, remember, all I want is for you to be happy, and I think finding the right sub and the right relationship with her will not only make you happy, but ecstatic and completely alive in a way you haven’t been in awhile. If I can help you get there, I’ll go to sleep each night happy with myself.”

“Well honey, you oughta already be retiring that way each night. You are a wonderful daughter and an extraordinary human being, my biggest success in life, and I couldn’t possibly love you more. I hope I tell you that enough, and that you’ll always remember it.”

“You’re pretty special yourself, dear old Dad, and I wish you luck on this latest erotic undertaking of yours.”

“Thanks, baby. I’ll let you know how it goes. Till later…”

“Later, Dad. Love you. Good night.”

I disconnected and examined what I had written down about Elise and her circumstances. She sounded perfect for what I wanted to achieve. I couldn’t wait to see her in action and to meet her.

A few minutes later, I was pulling up Elise’s volleyball schedule. Her next match was at home, Friday after school. A short walk for me.

It looked like I was going to be a big Zirconia High volleyball fan in the next few weeks.