A literotic sexstories: TRUE STORY! Who's Really In Control? by Detroit_Rising ,
I thought I’d be in control of this, she really was! If you want to be my muse, or share your thoughts directly, reach me on Kay Eye Kay (use your imagination) at Chicago440 … so here’s the story …
– What Happens In Vegas … : www.sexstories.com/story/101639/
Available to chat on Kay Eye Kay chicago440
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At the time of this story I was closing in on 40 years old but still had the libido of a 16yo. Physically, I’m the nice-neighbor kind of guy who has a better than average Dad-Bod. My stomach is flat. My arms and legs are toned. I’m white with an olive complexion, 5’9” and just about 160 pounds, lots of dark hair, and green eyes. My shaft is a bit over 6-inches, fat at the base and has a nice G-spot hitting curve.
So back then – about 20 years ago now – I joined an online “alternative” adult dating site. Pretty soon after I got way more than I bargained for! Within a couple days of posting my profile, this girl … a 29-yo woman at the time … answered my ad.
I looked up her profile and it said something about her deep need to be punished. “Well, that’s kind of twisted,” I remembered thinking. I didn’t know anything about Doms and Subs and BSMD, but I was so hard up that I decided to play along and figure it out … it couldn’t be THAT difficult, right? I needed to get laid.
About the whole Dom thing … I’m NOT AT ALL the violent type … the idea of being a DOM perplexed me. For me, sex was always about sharing a relationship … about getting closer, showing affection, and giving and receiving love. It was never about dominance or power or control. My thinking was about to change.
Via email, the woman and I hit it off right away.
Here’s one reason; she made the early-internet-era mistake of having her name linked to her e-mail. Her real name! It was Joni, like from the old TV show Happy Days. It only took me about 5 seconds to look up her address. I sent her a really kind and unthreatening note to inform her of the rookie error. I even asked if she wanted to keep talking, or if my knowing who she really was caused her too much anxiety. My being honest helped her trust me, and that trust opened up a Pandora’s box of fun.
We chatted on line, and then on the phone. “She sure doesn’t sound weird,” I thought to myself as I hung up after our first live conversation. I expected somebody who wanted to feel pain during sex would exhibit some outward tells, but there wasn’t anything that stood out. I did learn that she’d been married and divorced, and that she was highly educated (Master’s degree) and a professional educator. A true upright person … with a secret. She sure wouldn’t want the school board finding out about this alternative life, eh?
We agreed to meet. Literally she said, “Come by my house after school,” like she was setting up a play date.
I worked for myself at the time, so it was easy for me to adjust my schedule. Joni lived about 5 miles from my house so I swung by on my way home from the office. She lived in a tidy little brick bungalow in one of Chicago’s older neighborhoods. I swung into the narrow driveway, shut the car down and hopped out not knowing what to expect. Joni had sent a face picture but it wasn’t very flattering. I was half expecting her to be a Butter Face … as in she’s got a hot body, “but her face” is really ugly.
She was in her home’s back yard and came out to greet meet. This girl was NOT a butter face. She had short, curly, dirty blond hair, pretty blue eyes, and a sweet smile. I’d guess she was about 5’3”. Judging by how she filled out her t-shirt and jock shorts, she might have weighed 125 pounds. Her curves were mature and very sexy. For visualization purposes, I recall her breasts were a large b-cup … nothing monstrous.
We sat on her pack patio enjoying the shade on the warm summer afternoon. I could only stay a short time, but I felt sincerely attracted to her. We talked about careers, graduate classes and the excitement of looking through the personal ads. She thanked me again telling her about her email faux pax. Things were going great.
As the minutes ticked away, I had to get going. We both stood up, and respecting the fact that we were in plain sight of anybody who might have been outside in the neighborhood, I didn’t hug her or even hold her hand. But I did tell her very clearly that I wanted to grab her and kiss her very badly. She surprised me by suggesting we go inside. Damn!
We stepped inside the home’s small side entrance. It was a tiny space that was very dark compared to the bright outdoors. I recall awkwardly shuffling about in the dim light as she closed the door behind us. Like so many of those older small homes, from the tiny landing you could go into the kitchen, into the front living room, or fall down the basement stairs.
Standing close in the small entrance, she slid her body close to mine, looked up into my eyes and kissed me so passionately that the backs of my legs tingled.
After a few moments, her tongue found mine, and then she stiffened it up and forced it in my mouth. I sucked on it like it was a big clit! After a few minutes of kissing like high-schoolers, I had her breasts out of her t-shirt. Her firm nipples were like plump grapes, and her breasts filled my large hands just perfectly.
In my first act as a would-be pretending-DOM, I purposefully twisted her left nipple with my right index finger and thumb … not too hard, but enough to let her know I meant business. Her legs went weak and she moaned the sexiest sound I’d ever heard come from a woman. I figured, “I guess I’ll get the hang of this!” Still holding her plump nipple firmly, I could feel her areola stretch. She pulled back slightly, just enough to tug her breast skin tightly. And then another moan….
I really had to get home, so I very reluctantly stopped what we were doing. The look in Joni’s eyes was somewhere between out-of-control passion and genuine love. She looked up at me with such fuck-me eyes I almost creamed myself. But my real life called me back to reality.
But to prolong the fantasy for her, after I let her nip go, I firmly slapped both breasts. The feeling of each breast giving way to my open hands was intoxicating. And the sharp slap sounded even louder in the quiet little house.
As Joni recovered from the titty slap, we quickly agreed on our next meeting, and chatted a few times in between. When she emailed me, she called me Master. And I referred to her as my Sweet Little Bitch. Working to play up the DOM thing, before our next meeting I swung by the hardware store to buy some thick cotton rope and a new utility knife. That’s me, always the kidder, but the reaction I got from Joni totally surprised me.
I arrived at her house on our second play date much earlier in the afternoon. I carried to rope and knife in my tool bag. I brought out the rope and flicked out the blade like some kind of criminal and said, “I gonna make you my bitch for real.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement.
She led me down the basement stairs to what seemed like an old, unused rec room. There was some light coming in from the glass block windows and it was dead quiet. There was an old sofa pushed up against a wall, plus a couple chairs and an old TV sitting on an even older coffee table. The tile floor was a simple checkerboard pattern. Everything was a little dusty. Like many houses of the era, a metal beam traversed the center ceiling, and steel posts supported the beam.
I knew in a flash what I’d do. Transforming into what I thought a Dom should be, I looked at her, grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her toward me, and looked her right in the eyes. “Strip,” was all I said. She looked down. But I lifted her eyes back to me mine by holding her chin and lifting her head up firmly. She blinked and nodded.
I stepped back and crossed my arms to watch.
She started by taking off her t-shirt. Then her shorts. Then I told her, “Stop.” Then I just looked at her. She blushed standing there in plain skin colored bra like she’d wear to work. Same for her white boy-cut panties.
I told her, “Turn around.” I looked at her some more, then stepped closer and said in a critical tone, “White granny pants? Seriously? And you knew I was coming? Fuuuuuuuuck.” And with that I cocked my right hand back, opened my palm and swatted her right ass cheek with a hard slap. She squealed and jumped up. “Shut up,” I said, “That didn’t hurt. I’m not even warmed up!” Then I moved to my left so I could slap her left ass cheek with even more force. As I roughly grabbed her bra clasp and unfastened it, I said, “Take those ugly things off.” She bent over facing away from me, and as she slid her panties down, my hand marks began to show bright red on her china-white ass.
“Turn around,” I commanded. Looking down, and clumsily kicking off her panties from her feet, she turned around, her bra dangling some, but still covering her chest. I reached forward and used my entire hand to grip between the cups and just pulled. Caught off guard, she wiggled her arms free and they dropped back to her side.
“Nice tits,” I said as I reached out with both hands to palpate each breast from the side. “They’ll do.”
“Thank you, Master,” was her timid response.
I now had her naked in her own basement. Next I focused on her tits. I was being a little rougher on her breasts than I ever thought I would be with a woman…but she liked it…it turned her on. Her nipples were about average size – say a 50-cent piece – and with her state of arousal, they were plump and firm. With one hand working each breast, she started yelling like it hurt…but there was a smile on her face and the devil in her eye….
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