I Wasnt Nervous Ch 01

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Author's note:

While these characters may have been inspired by real people, they aren't. This is a work of fiction.

I'd love to know what you think about it. All constructive criticism is welcome. :)

Hope you enjoy it!

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The flight was no big deal. I've been privileged enough to do it before and I could navigate pretty well. Speaking English helped too. I wasn't anxious about the traveling itself, but I had never been outside of the country completely on my own before.

There was also the teeny tiny detail of meeting a man twice my age.

***

I never thought I would be doing this. I had a strict two-years-older-than-me cut off. Three if it was just sex. We met online and he was upfront about his age from the start. He made it very clear that he didn't care, but would respect whatever my wishes were. We only exchanged ages after a bit of flirting and erotica exchange. This was before I realized I could find all the smut I wanted online (porn yes, erotica no; somehow that made sense). Some of what he wrote was new to me, and I wanted to read the rest. He offered and I agreed, justifying it by stating that it was like reading erotica from an older author (pro tip: it's nothing like reading erotica from an older author). Of course it didn't end there and we continued talking. It was always wrong, and I loved it. Not because it was wrong, but despite it. I never liked the age difference. The whole "Daddy" thing creeped me the fuck out. I loved his always-respectful manner; I loved his open-mindedness; I loved learning about a different time and a different place. I've always been intrigued by foreign cultures and mindsets. I loved the way he patted my ego, which I later came to realize was not that at all. He truly believed I was all those wonderful things he said, and I now know it too. I loved playing at being an adult, a title that doesn't completely fit yet. I loved his experience – sexual and otherwise. I still love all those things, but I always did. I came to love the authority and power that came with the age difference. I came to love hearing about his life. I came to love him as a friend. We've shared so many concepts and intimate details of our lives, it's impossible not to. That's not to mention how much he's helped me figure out and deal with life. He was always supportive when I needed support and always counseled me to make the right decision for me. He's helped me deal with some of my strongest demons.

I'm honestly baffled that he's single at 38.

***

So here I am, six months later, scanning the faces at the airport in a hurried daze. I find your face and meet your eyes. You've obviously been watching me for a couple minutes. You have a calm smile on your face – as if you know exactly how this will go. Maybe you do.

A million thoughts rushing through my head. I trip and catch myself, standing up alarmingly quickly. I have practice. A woman to my right inquires to see if I'm ok, and I keep that interaction as brief as possible. I'm not entirely comfortable being seen in public with you, for fear of someone sensing the unnatural nature of our relationship.

I readjust the sweater in my arm and grab the handle of my rolly. I meet your eyes and give you an awkward smile. You lick your lips in an almost predatory fashion, then cover it up with a genuine smile. I squirm a little, moving my hips seductively. It doesn't go unnoticed.

I walk over to you and duck your kiss with a hug. I want to hold you tight, but not here. You don't share my inhibition. Is that your belt buckle?

"Hello" I say, our first real exchange of words.

"Hello buttercup", you answer, in your deep, masculine, English voice. I could melt.

I made an uncharacteristic, quivering noise to which you smiled and pulled me into a second embrace. This time I let you hold me. That isn't a belt.

Reminding myself of my surroundings, I pull away giving you an uncomfortable grin. You know I won't take your hand here so you don't try, gesturing for me to follow you instead.

"I'm parked just a couple of minutes away." You say, grabbing my bag.

"OK" was all I could muster in the rush of emotions and sensations consuming me.

You put my suitcase in the trunk and consider opening my door for me, but don't, knowing that I'll shy away if you do so too soon. We both get in and I let out an uncomfortable giggle. You laugh with me, and we laugh through the awkwardness.

You reach over and brush my hair behind my ear with a smile, leaning in for a kiss. I look into your deep brown eyes, then down to your luscious lips, suddenly desperate to meet them. You move a bit and kiss my forehead. Tease.

"Shall we go, child?"

Oh the power you hold over me with such simple words. If anyone else were to say that to me I would be infuriated.

"Yes, Sir", I answer, slipping into character briefly. I am at ease.

You chuckle in a very masculine manner and pull out.

We make small talk on the drive to your place, nothing special but very friendly.

Our masks are dropped; we are equals. For now.

You walk up to your door with my suitcase in tow and unlock it. I follow you in and it clicks shut. In that moment your entire demeanor changes. You want me, and you want me now.

"Do you remember your safewords?"

"Yellow for caution, red for stop."

"Where are we now?"

"Green."

"Promise me you will tell me immediately if that changes. I will not be upset, judge you, or anything of the sort. I will not harm you or do anything without your willing consent."

"I know, and I promise."

I am standing in front of the closed door. You approach me, slipping an arm around my waist, locking the door, then leaving it there. You pull me closer and I nod my consent. You run the back of your hand along the side of my face, behind my ear, down my neck, across my shoulder, down my forearm. Your demeanor suddenly intensifies and you grip both my wrists strongly and force them above my head, holding them in one hand. Your free hand grips my chin strongly – but gently – and you push your body against mine. Definitely not your belt buckle. You kiss me passionately, long and deep. It was then that I melted into your arms; it was then that I submitted to you. I trust you.

You move to my neck, kissing, suckling and biting. You nibble on my ear briefly, causing me to moan. That's a weakness of mine, and you know it. Your free hand starts pulling my shirt up. My panties are most likely ruined my now.

You stop abruptly, backing away a bit but not releasing my hands. You look me up and down, taking me in in my vulnerable state. You let out an animalistic growl and lick your lips the way you did earlier. I see your grin grow wider as you ponder how you want to use me first.

Before I realize that you've released me, I'm thrust over your shoulder. One arm around the back of my knees, the other hand on my ass. Your fingers manage to find time to prod at my pussy on the short walk to your bedroom. You carry me in and drop me onto your bed. You have that evil grin on, the one that makes my clit throb. You straddle me and practically tear my shirt off, then my bra. I throw my arms and legs around in a futile attempt to stop you. It slows you down at most. You take my left tit into your mouth, devouring it. One of the hands that come to stop you is immobilized by your strong grip instantaneously. You don't pay any attention to the other. Your free hand is groping one breast, then the other mercilessly. You get off me enough to flip me over, grinding your dick into me again, harder this time. You grab my wrists and hold them behind my back. In between nibbling and sucking on my ear, neck and back you whisper "You can struggle all you want, buttercup, it just won't do you any good."

I struggle less now, my inhibitions less prominent.

I have no control; I am powerless; I am free.

You pull me back a little, there's a small gap between my crotch and the bed. You waste no time moving your hand there, working at the button of my jeans, then the zipper. Frustrated at only being able to use one hand, you grab a length of rope, expertly tying it around my wrists firmly. You slip one finger underneath to make sure they're not too tight. Just enough.

Your graciousness is quickly gone as you pull my pants down roughly, ripping them at one of the inner seams. Accidentally, funnily enough. You kneel and pull them off entirely. You grip my ass with both hands and a boyish smile covers your face. One suiting a teenage boy – like who I'm supposed to be with. I love my ability to return you to the state of a horny 19 year old with my body. You play with my ass as if it's the first time you've seen one for a moment. Then your dominance kicks back in. You rip off my panties mercilessly letting the shredded bits fall to the floor. You spread my cheeks and start devouring me, eliciting a squeal.

You retrieve your tongue just long enough to flip me over. You grasp my lower thighs, pulling them upwards, then down, presenting my pussy in the air for yourself. You devour me again while pushing my legs down towards my head. It hurts just the right amount. You stare deep into my admiring eyes as your tongue kisses my clit the way you would a long lost lover.

The intensity rises and it isn't long before I can't help but cry out in ecstasy. You don't acknowledge my reaction or the copious amount of cum that gushes out, splashing onto you. I've always been embarrassed when I ejaculate, given what it's made of, but you lap it up and I swear I feel you grin into me. You look down at me, enjoying playing with your little toy. You grip my clit between your teeth, gently for now, and flick your tongue, making me twitch. You go faster and I squirm to get away. That only encourages you and you continue your beautiful torture. You grab a breast, crushing it cruelly. This sends me over the edge and I scream silently, my body trembling slightly. You stick a couple fingers in my sopping wet pussy feeling it contract around you. You'll be sure to make good use of that.

"Please..." I mutter. You don't know if I want you to stop or need you to continue, and it doesn't matter.

You take some mercy on me, letting me down. With that, you grip my legs much stronger.

I lose track of time, and how many times I've cum. Long after I've stopped struggling entirely you decide I've had enough. I'm barely conscious as you pick me up and place me on my side with my head resting on a pillow. You untie my hands and massage the soreness away. You cover me with the duvet and caress my hair gently. You get undressed for the first time, leaving your boxers on. Tease.

You crawl into bed behind me; holding me tightly.

"I will protect you; I will keep you safe; you are safe here; I won't let you go. You are mine, child."

"Thank you, Sir." I managed to mutter, right before drifting off to sleep.

And with that, I was at peace.