In retrospect I may have handled the situation differently reality can in effect be a far more, intense experience than any single fantasy. As a teenager from a fairly middle class English family, I had been brought up with the usual hormonal mixture of soft core porn on a late night film, AOL chat rooms and masturbation. It was in one such room, a Big Beautiful Women room I met a lady called Zara. It was perhaps an intention at first to play the innocent, naΓ―ve teenager routine, 'seduce' using my manly charms into a weekend of fun then avoid her from there on out. As it turned out, none of that happened. In short my powers of seduction were not as grand as those played out in my imagination. It did however, develop into a seeming friendship, based I guess on a lack of sexual pretences or avoidance. So often, sexuality is a topic not covered in friendships between a man and a woman, when that barrier is broken through whatever means it allows a different form of relationship. Over the next couple of years as I grew out of puberty and into adult hood, she would perhaps take on the role of a guide as opposed to a sexual conquest. At first she was the woman I exposed myself to on webcam, and in that regard she served her purpose well.
I remember fondly some of the things I would do for Zara, safe in the knowledge I was testing the bonds of my sexuality but in my own personal comfort zone. In hindsight, I can look back now and think to myself, 'why, why, why' but when you're a certain age, without any form of sexual relief your just glad for any diversion. And so I would expose myself to her, I would insert various objects inside me, bananas, candles, anything of a phallic nature at that point would find itself up my anus and for her pleasure. Clothes pegs, on my nipples, wax on my chest. The funniest incident I suppose was a certain special 'sandwich' with a rather slippery filling I ate for her. It was the usual pubescent hi jinx you perform as a teenager and can look back on as an adult and laugh. But as I grew so did my attitude towards sexuality, she was no longer this older lady pleasuring the whims of a horny teenage boy. She was pushing the boundaries of an adult who was desperate to explore his sexuality beyond the vanilla that I had only tasted so far. I met my girlfriend at university, a beautiful girl but one with desperately low self confidence or belief. A Freudian analysis may have judged me to like this domineering aspect of my character, taking this young fragile thing and having my way with her. But the reality was, I didn't want a coward, I wanted an equal, a partner. In truth perhaps I was always of a submissive character myself, pick your clichΓ© as you will, controlling mother, older sisters. Every sexual relationship I had been in until I met her had always been with a girl who had 'the power' in that sense. But I so desperately wanted Shannon to have a taste of that power.
The early years of our relationship were perhaps a text book example of two young adults exploring sexuality. We progressed from the lustful phase of wanting to rip each others clothes off, at every available opportunity, through the comfortable phase of just being happy to see each other to the more adventurous phase we found ourselves at recently where vanilla sex was nice, but there was just that something missing, that 'pepper' that would add a little seasoning. Initially we began, exploring beyond the bedroom into the outside world. One such time occurred when I went to visit her at university. Stepping off the coach she arrived to meet me in a trench coat and black shoes. Ordinarily as a man I have little notice of the new clothing my girlfriend wears but it was the sheer sexuality of the outfit that drew my attention. We proceeded to talk about the usual irrelevant topics a couple consume themselves until she got me to the dark streets of Canterbury. For those of you don't know, just past the university campus there is a dark church yard. Pulling me into the shadows onto a wet turf of grass she proceeded to unbutton her coat revealing a black lingerie assemble beneath; Matching black bra and knickers, a suspender belt and stockings with of course her black shiny shoes. She instructed me to sit down, I did, stupidly of course what went through my mind then was getting a wet pair of jeans. She crouched over me, unzipping me and we consummated some pour souls grave plot.
Another example was on a holiday we took to Wales in St. Davids. Close to the cottage we had rented was a national park coastal walk. Being early June there were few tourists on this stretch of path overlooking the Irish sea. I would love to brag here I had deflowered her in a national park but even I have my limits and instead decided to pull a blanket over her lag, pull her jeans and knickers down and gently rub her clit to orgasm. Ordinarily this would have been nothing special but I believe for both of us it was the first time we pushed ourselves to explore our sexuality in the presence of others. Numerous times fishing boats and cruisers passed us by as we sat there, Shannon trying to control herself. It was perhaps the presence of other ramblers nearby that got her temperature running. Was it obvious what we were doing? perhaps. But it was that thrill of exhibitionism that inspired us to explore this side of our relationship. Which as life often does drew me back to Zara my mentor and guide through my formative years. She had often made it clear should I wish that should would provide, a domineering service to me. Zara was a dominatrix for lack of a better word, she had no interest in forming a loving relationship with men, in her own cynical words she had been there and done that, what interested her was the sex, the fucking. She had a number of 'subs' as she calls them on the go and if one of them has hurt feelings about that then to bad. In short, character wise she was probably the polar opposite of my upbringing and morality, but I appreciated, respected her God awful attitude to life and sex I just couldn't pull myself away from her.
Zara had made it clear should I wish she would dominate me for a weekend but I suppose, that wasn't what I required on my own. In a relationship however that posed an interesting aspect. She was an active bisexual and had suggested an arrangement. Whereby I would be handcuffed and forced to watch my girlfriend dominated by this woman. Initially I was rather taken aback mainly because I felt as with most of the things we discussed it would forever be just a fantasy, a conversation I could masturbate to at my convenience. Thankfully that changed. I had spoken to my girlfriend about the prospect of a three some or a swingers club. In short we weren't, either of us, looking to cheat on each other we just wanted to give each other something new, something different. But where do you start? A naughty advert in a local newspaper? One of the countless online dating sites that promises the world and charges your debit card. I made the decision that if we were to go down this route it would be with Zara, I knew her. I felt safe with her and my girlfriend, would to I hope.
We arrived at Zara's house, I can remember the day it was a Friday afternoon. It was raining outside and Shannon and I were pretty wet from walking from the train station. Stepping inside it was your normal suburban house, I guess I had come to expect it would be a rubber walled dominatrix palace. The reality however was, it was the house of a teachers assistant with the side of a dominant female. The conversation was benign at first, the journey, the weather. But shortly it turned to the 'reason', the reason why we were here. In short I had delivered my girlfriend and was a willing spectator. Zara guided us upstairs to her bedroom. I didn't know what to expect, it wasn't what I had feared, just a normal house wife's bedroom. There was a large double bed, your standard MDF wardrobe and cabinets The only item out of place was a wooden chair facing the bed. We hadn't discussed the exact details at such but I couldn't imagine why that was there. I guess I was under the impression I would be allowed to wander around, let my hands 'explore' as the played. I was wrong.
I was instructed to undress, this did surprise. In my fantasies of this encounter I was always recognised as the 'alpha male', the ladies taken by my manly charms and seduced to gibbering wrecks. In truth I felt over my head. I removed slowly my grey fitted t-shirt, then pulled down my stone wash grey jeans. As per her instructions I had worn Shannon's underwear, worn of course. Zara knew I liked used worn underwear, she had sent me from time to time her own packages for me to enjoy and wear for her on webcam. So here I stood, standing in a stranger's house wearing my girlfriends dirty underwear not knowing what the hell was to happen. I was bent over like a child and felt a cold finger rubbing my anus. It was lubricated, I wasn't sure, and then it happened, a plastic set of anal beads was pushed up into me. I winced, I think I may have said a few choice words but as the reality set in, the pleasure did as well. Zara guided me back to the chair and I was sat down. Shannon took my wrists and handcuffed them behind the seat. Zara produced a pair of ankle cuffs, I had never seen them before, and chained my feet to the chair leg. For the first time in our relationship in all ways, I had given absolute power to Shannon and to this other woman. My heart was racing, I was completely exposed, Shannon's best thong for all its best efforts unable to control my penis which popped out to the side. I couldn't touch it. I couldn't do anything.