Literotic asexstories – My Story of O by ExploringSoul,ExploringSoul
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Ringing the door to someone’s home for the first time has always sort of felt like a rite of passage to me. You’re being let into someone’s private space, and more likely than not, your relationship with this person won’t be the same after that.
Still, I have never felt as much trepidation about ringing a doorbell as this early evening standing in front of O’s place, 20 minutes late because in my excitement I have missed the right metro stop… It was a bold move – and a sign of trust, I hoped – that O had suggested her home for our first real-life encounter.
We have met on a kink forum. Given our ages – mine 48, hers 25 – I first suspected some kind of catfish. But she convinced me that she was real and that we were looking for the same thing. The age gap wasn’t a particular turn-on for either of us, but it wasn’t an issue either.
She opens the door with a big smile. “You came! I was starting to fear you had chickened out,” she says teasingly while giving me a hug.
Her touch feels good, and when we release, she leaves her hand on my arm and guides me in. I have seen plenty of pictures, but still I’m impressed by how beautiful O is. Long hair, big eyes, full red lips, a smile that at the same time is warming and makes you feel you aren’t quite in on a private joke.
The one thing that strikes me as she leads me through the hallway to her living room, is how tall she is. In her heels, she’s probably a few centimeters higher than me.
Her place is cozy. She tells me to sit down on a colorful corner couch with lots of pillows. She sits next to me and we chat. About how she likes the neighborhood, how her work is going, … friendly chit chat.
O has recently moved to Brussels to work for the EU after studying politics in various European countries. Her English is flawless, with only the hint of an accent giving away her East-European descent.
She’s wearing a black blouse with a pink and red floral print, on top of a black skirt that reaches just above her knees. Without being overtly sexual, the attire shows off her curves and her athletic legs beautifully.
Sitting there on her couch next to each other, chatting, we might look like friends catching up after a period apart. With only her occasional touches of my arm or knee suggesting that some flirting might be going on.
“Where are my manners?”, she suddenly says. “I haven’t even offered you a drink yet. I’ve cooled some bubbles, is that ok?”
“That sounds lovely, thanks.”
“Great. I’ll go get it. When I come back, I want you to be naked.” All said with a smile and in the same light-hearted tone. Then she disappears into the kitchen.
So this is it. The point of no return. If I obey, I’ll be the sub to this magnificent domme. Just like we talked about online. She has made it no secret that it wouldn’t be her first time dominating a man. For me, this is uncharted territory.
I’d like to say that there on that couch I carefully consider my situation before taking that leap of faith with what is essentially a stranger. The truth is, my shirt is off before she has good and well left the room. I have given this plenty of thought beforehand. Today I’m here to obey this woman and prepared to handle anything she might throw at me.
I take off my shoes and trousers and stand there for a moment in my underpants. Maybe this is enough? No, she has said naked. Off they go.
You haven’t felt nude until you’ve been nude on a stranger’s couch, all alone, not quite knowing what’s going to come next. While I had definitely felt my cock stir while I had been talking to O, the stress of the situation now makes Mr. P lay dormant between my legs.
O walks back in, carrying a tray with our drinks. To my surprise, she is completely naked too. By now, I was fully expecting her to make me suffer the humiliation of being the only one undressed a bit longer. Then again, I know that degradation isn’t her thing. Control and dominance are.
She looks absolutely stunning. Her tits, a bit smaller and firmer than I had imagined, are crowned by large, pink areolas and thick nipples. Between her legs, no sign of pubic hair.
“So”, she says, putting down the tray, “I’m glad you’re playing. I’d feel silly otherwise.”
We laugh, and I feel grateful to her for making light of the situation, knowing fully well that she had no doubt of finding me naked.
She raises her glass and smiles broadly. “To playing. Let’s have fun.”
Distracted by her naked body and the cheerful talk, l haven’t looked at the tray on the table yet. Now that I do, to take my glass and respond to her toast, I catch my breath. On the tray next to the glasses there is a strap-on. The harness is black, the sizable dildo on it bright pink.
Swallowing hard, I take my glass, look her straight in the eyes and raise my glass to hers. “To playing!”
For a brief while, we sit there, enjoying the wine, the smile of the other, the anticipation…
Then she takes my glass from me and puts it back on the tray together with hers. She leans in and kisses me. It starts exploringly, lips touching, lips being licked, then tongues getting more hungry.
She stops, tells me to sit back. My cock has grown considerably now, but she ignores it. She puts one knee on either side of me, but instead of sitting down on me, remains high, pushing her tits towards my face. “Suck,” she commands.
I happily oblige. Putting my mouth on her left nipple, I feel like the cat that got the mouse-flavored cream. I hungrily suck the delicious bud and flick my tongue over it. The fact that it grows quickly in my mouth, together with her horny moans, tells me that l’m doing something right.
While this goes on, I still have my hands next to me, resting on the couch. I would love to grab her buttocks, but at this point I’m not sure I should do anything without being explicitly told so. As it is, with me passively against the back of the couch and her holding onto my shoulders and feeding me her tit, it heightens the sense that she is in control, that she is, already, “taking” me.
After a while she switches and feeds me the right nipple. I give it the same dedicated treatment and feel it grow as my reward.
Now she gets up, depriving me of her tits. She turns around, picks up the toy and tells me to follow her to the bedroom.
The bed is high, large and full of pillows.
“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees”, she says, still holding the toy. Is this it? Is she going to fuck me here and now? What about preparation? What about lube? I feel a panic coming up. This isn’t at all how I thought it would go. What did I get myself into? I’m frozen in front of the bed.
I look into her eyes. I don’t see impatience, but rather calm amusement. Is she testing me? Or is this the cat playing with her food before pounding?
I could say something, share my concerns. She hasn’t instructed me not to speak. Instead, I get on the bed like she told me and position myself on hands and knees, bum facing her.
I hear her get something from a drawer on the other side of the room, but don’t dare to look. She comes back and I can tell she’s getting on the bed behind me. Then, her hands on my buttocks.
“You were right”, she says, referring to a conversation we had online, “your bum really is your best feature. I love it.” As she speaks, I feel wet fingers in my ass crack, smearing my bumhole. At least she’s allowing me some lubrication. I sigh with relief.
Then, something pushing in. She hasn’t shifted position, so it can’t be her with the strap-on. Besides, it doesn’t feel as big as that pink monster. I relax and it passes my sphincter. Some kind of plug, clearly. It goes in several centimeters and then remains.
She now tells me to get up. We stand facing each other at the foot of the bed. Without her heels, we’re the same height. She smiles at me. “You were going to let me dry fuck your virgin ass, weren’t you?” She laughs, then puts her arms around me. In a whisper tone, she says: “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”
For the second time that night, we kiss. While our tongues touch, her hands go to my bum. A little squeeze. Then, her finger pushing on the plug in my ass. Making sure it’s well in place? Or marking her prey?
We release, and she launches herself on the bed. “But first”, she says, “you’re going to take care of me.” She gathers some pillows and props them up against the headboard. In this cozy nest she then lies back, spreading her legs wide. “Come hither, my slave, and pleasure thy Queen.”
Mock dramatics or not, I don’t need to be told twice. With some overacting of my own, I crawl onto the bed towards her and bow my head, some 30 cm away from her exposed sex. “At your service, my Queen.”
In her normal voice again: “Make me come. You can use your mouth and two fingers. You have 5 minutes.”
That time frame immediately makes me wonder what the punishment for failure is. But instead of asking, I decide to eagerly accept the challenge.
The vulva that I’m looking at is indeed completely hairless. O must have had a recent wax job. The pink flesh of her inner labia is clearly visible. Before diving in, I make sure my tongue is well covered in saliva. I have no great illusions about my sexual prowess, but when it comes to minge munching, I wouldn’t sell myself short.
O’s first reactions, as I slowly move my relaxed tongue from the bottom of her lips to her clitoris, and repeat the process, seem to suggest that she has no complaints so far. Her breathing has become noticeably quicker, and she’s producing deliciously horny moans.
As I sit there, hunched over on my knees, licking this now quite wet pussy, I become aware again of the plug in my bottom and, with that, of tonight’s likely programme. Is that really what I want, a nagging voice in my head says. Wouldn’t I rather move up right now and fuck this beautiful woman?
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