Roc and Water

I love new relationships and all of the "firsts" that come with them. This chapter has a few firsts, and even a space landing... Thank you FA_JF for your ongoing editing skills and advice (and your patience when I don't always listen)!!

*

Patrick stays over the next evening too. It feels like we're falling into an easy rhythm. So far we've always stayed at my house, but he asks that I come to his place for the first time this Friday. We're both pretty wiped out when he arrives after work, so we just eat a simple dinner and watch a movie curled up on the couch together. Both too groggy to do much more than stumble to the bedroom when the movie is over, he puts me to bed promising wicked pleasures in the morning.

For once, I wake up first and as quietly as I can, sneak into the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder. I close my eyes and let out a groan as relief floods me. Slowly I open them and see that Patrick has slipped into the bathroom and is watching me intently with a slight smile across his face.

"Hey! A little privacy please!" I plead, as I quickly cross my hands over my lap. Patrick's smile only broadens as he shakes his head and walks over; leaning down to give me a quick peck.

"Good morning sweetheart...," he drawls. "Need some help there?"

"No!" I blush and laugh at the same time. "I can wipe myself just fine, thank you."

"I'm curious why you're feeling so shy. There isn't a place on or more appropriately, in your body that my hands or lips haven't explored."

"I... I'm just...." I realize he's right. He's seen me at my most vulnerable, and having him in the bathroom as I pee is certainly pretty low on the list of embarrassments.

"You're right. It just felt a bit soon to be peeing in front of each other... that's all." As I'm wiping myself, I give him a big smile. "The only thing I ask is privacy next week when I get my period."

"If you think that's going to detract me from fucking you you're quite mistaken; but...if you want privacy in the bathroom for those days, I think I can live with that."

As soon as I stand he slips by me and before I can get out of earshot he lets his own bladder go and I could swear there was a racehorse in the room, causing me to laugh myself to tears.

"Shower?" I ask.

"Absolutely.... Also, I believe I made a promise to you last night."

True to his word, morning breath be damned, as soon as hot water is blasting down on us his mouth assaults mine with a deep and searching kiss. Our slick bodies caress each other as I'm drawn into his tight embrace; I feel his cock grow rigid against my belly. Pulling my body far enough back to grip the base in my hands, I begin to stroke it with an unerring and single minded goal. Pre-come forms pearly droplets at the crown; the sight of his milky seed has me mesmerized.

Patrick gasps and braces himself against the shower wall, but before ceding control to my intent, he lets out a growl and is upright once again. Looking down at me with a wicked grin, he forces me to release his cock; stepping back and seizing it in his own grip. I watch him stroke himself and my breath becomes irregular as I'm transfixed by the sight of his hand gliding over the rigid length. I study his movements; the way his hand twists at the top before pulling back, over and over again. His eyes remain locked on mine; monitoring the effect this has on me. My hands are fisted at my sides while my legs squeeze together in an answer to the rhythmic clenching of my pussy. My nipples stand out impossibly hard, while my breasts feel flushed and heavy.

He turns me around, placing my hands against the shower wall and spreading my legs shoulder-width apart. "Stay" is all he says and I obey. I feel him reach for the bar of soap, lathering it in his hands before cleaning me from head to toe with firm, massaging strokes. He adds a little more soap before washing my pussy and asshole thoroughly, fingers delving deep inside. Pulling the handheld showerhead down, he sprays my body clean, paying extra attention once again to my pussy and ass. The hard spray teases every nerve ending and I spread my legs even wider. Without a word he replaces it in its base and chuckles as I groan in protest.

"No matter what I do, keep your hands where they are."

I nod, words escaping me as I feel him pull my hips back; kicking my legs apart until my pussy and ass are exposed and on display for him. He drops to his knees behind me. With a firm grip on my hips, he leans in and begins what could only be described as a feast of my pussy. His lips and teeth alternately suck and bite, driving me to the edge hard and fast. His tongue glides in rhythmic circles around my clit, before he captures it between his lips and sucks hard. My elbows give out and I fall forward towards the wall, cradling my head on my forearms. Without releasing my clit, he smacks my ass HARD, signaling me to get back into position.

With one hand, he pinches my clit between his thumb and forefinger, drawing back the hood. I briefly grimace in pain before a jolt of pleasure overcomes me. The tip of his tongue begins to firmly lick my exposed clit causing me to ride up on tiptoes in an attempt to decrease the intensity of sensation. Once again his free hand slaps the same ass cheek, on the same spot, and I force myself to brace my feet firmly on the shower floor once again. His mouth pulls away from my clit, but his tongue continues its exploration of my pussy, lapping up my juices from deep inside the swollen hole.

Strong hands grasp each ass cheek spreading them wide; the flat of his tongue travels over my perineum and up to my clenching asshole. I let out a cry of pleasure as I feel the tip make contact, then without hesitation penetrate the tight ring. Every nerve ending off the sensitive tissue sings with pleasure, and an act that at one time would have brought me great shame now has me begging in broken words to let me come.

Tears form in my eyes as I beg. "Please Patrick...please, please, please... May I come Sir? Please make me come Sir?" The last plea comes out as a question, and it's answered by another hard slap to my ass.

"Shush," is all he says.

I feel a whisper of hot breath against my ass before his tongue resumes fucking my tight hole. The sensation creates warm waves of lust to course through my body, until it's all I can do to remember to breathe.

Finally, I feel him rise behind me and the head of his cock slowly penetrate my dripping pussy. It welcomes his cock like a long lost lover, clenching rhythmically with each thrust. Reaching above my head, he lowers the showerhead until I feel it slowly travel down my abdomen towards my pussy. Starting with the pulse setting, hard punches of water assault my clit in a slow, steady rhythm until every cell in my body throbs to the same beat. I can't help myself, I begin to beg again.

"I can't...I can't. Please... I can't do this. It's too...too much."

Switching to a constant hard stream aimed directly on the exposed head of the swollen mass of nerves, Patrick leans down and whispers in my ear, "come." My orgasm hits me hard and fast. I hear a voice screaming and moaning, barely registering that it is mine. My knees buckle, but Patrick just tightens his hold around my waist as he plows into my pussy, the sound of our bodies smacking against each other echoes through the bathroom. Just before he explodes he pulls out and showers my back and bottom with his come. I close my eyes and catch my breath as he leisurely massages his come into my skin, then uses the water to gently rinse me clean.

Replacing the showerhead, he pulls me tight against him; his front to my back. We stay like this for a few minutes, both trembling despite the warm water. Once recovered, I turn around to cup his face in my hand, gazing at him through half-mast eyes. "Thank you, Sir." The look of joy on his face these three simple words invoke makes my body flush with pleasure.

We're quiet, yet tender with each other for the rest of the morning. The plans for the kitchen cabinets long settled, we sit in the backyard with our coffee and scones, toying with the idea of a trip the coast.

***

The rest of the week flies by. As Patrick wraps up his current job, refinishing an antique bar at a local restaurant, I've begun the arduous task of getting the interior of my house ready to paint. I go through, room by room, removing curtains, scraping off stickers from Addie's youth, and taping off moulding. The days are filled with hard, physical labor and I've felt no need to go to the gym as I'm getting all the workout I need at home. Deep inside though, I know the real reason I've been avoiding the gym.

Addie and I email every day and skype every few days. Frank has kept her busy with sightseeing and time with his family. She's already developed a crush on his neighbor's boy who is thirteen, causing Frank no end of worry. Thankfully we're getting on well with each other and I talk him through how to handle her first crush.

He tells me he's dating an old girlfriend from his last year of Secondary school, but has yet to introduce Addie. I mention I've begun dating someone too, and we discuss how to get Addie used to the idea of her parents dating other people. It's not that she believes we'll ever get back together; just that she's finally become adjusted to her new "normal" and we don't want to upset her. I notice as we skype that neither of us flinch or seem bothered by the other's dating; in fact, we're both pleased that the other is happy in their life.

My cell phone rings as I'm careening through my front door on Friday morning, returning from the paint store with yet more supplies. Seeing Patrick's name on the screen, I laugh at myself because every time he calls my stomach does flip-flops just as it did back in junior high. I realize Addie and I have more in common than I'd care to admit.

"Hey sweetheart, how's my girl?" A warm glow radiates through my body at the sound of his gruff voice.

"Better now... I got a lot done today; almost ready to start painting."

"That's good. Although...how would you feel about taking a break from it for the weekend?" My heart skips a beat, imagining a whole weekend together. We're both quiet, but I hear his even breath through the phone. "I'd like you to spend this evening through Monday morning with me, and I'd like you to submit to me for the duration."

My breath catches. I think I know what's he's asking, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. "Um... What exactly do you mean by 'for the duration'?" My voice is steady but inside a tremor is building on itself.

His tone is calm, but I can hear an undercurrent of excitement. "From the moment you walk in the door this evening, until the time you step out on Monday morning, you will accept your place as my submissive in every way." There is a subtle, yet clear emphasis on the word 'every'.

"Wait.... What?" Anxiety flares from within me, but something else too. Wetness quickly trickles into my panties as my breath becomes rapid and shallow. I'm on the cusp of protesting when instead I bite my lower lip and listen to his proposition.

"I've said it before; I'm not looking for a slave.... I'm not looking for 24/7 either. I would though, love the gift of your submission for more than a few hours on isolated days." He pauses to find the right words, which also gives me time to process what he's trying to say.

"You're speaking of more than just sex," I whisper.

"Yes."

Once I realize what he is asking of me, every fiber of my being begins to scream internally that I can't do it... that I'll lose too much of myself. "What if's" begin to ping through my brain. What if I begin to resent him, or even worse, what if I give him everything and he discovers it's not enough? Forcing myself to quell the internal chatter I ask myself new questions. What would it hurt to try? He's done so much for me; shouldn't I give him this? Lastly... What if I like it?

I lift my head and brace myself as I give him my answer. "Ok, Patrick. I'm yours.... I'll submit to you, in every way, for the weekend." As soon as the words are out, an odd sense of calm washes over me; almost relief. The tremor that started at the onset of the conversation has transformed into a vibration that pulses through every nerve, gathering strength as it centers on my pussy and clit.

On the other end of the phone, Patrick let out his breath slowly; his relief is palpable and I know that I've pleased him. "Thank you, Corrine. Before the weekend starts, I want to assure you that I know how hard this may be for you, which makes it even more special for me. Bending your will to please mine is such an act of trust...of giving. I'm going to push you, but I promise I'm not going to abuse or take advantage of your submission; and as always, your safewords of yellow or red are available should you need them."

I hear his words, but it's hard to concentrate because my desire is amping up by the second. Unconsciously I had begun squeezing my thighs together and letting my free hand is caress the underside of my breast, slowly running my thumb over the tightly constricted nipple. Lost in sensation, I barely hear Patrick trying to get my attention.

He laughs a little. "You're awfully quiet over there... That usually means you have unspoken concerns, or you're excited. Which is it?"

"I'm, um...excited." My cheeks flush at my admission.

A barely audible groan escapes him. When he speaks his voice is low and commanding. "Tell me. What has you excited?"

I attempt to put my thoughts together before I speak. My voice comes out more steady and clear than I'm feeling inside. "Well... As you said, everything we've done so far have been isolated experiences sandwiched between more, uh, traditional dates. Those times, when I'm submissive for you, don't feel like games or sessions as they did with Robert." I can't quite find the words I really want to say, and I huff in frustration. "They feel...natural...peaceful." I chuckle a little before adding, "...even when you were spanking me."

"Those are the words of a true submissive, sweetheart. Do you know that?" He pauses briefly. "More important though, is that you're MY submissive. You are MINE, Corrine." His last words come out with a ferocity I have yet to hear from him, and they envelop me like a tight embrace.

"Yes, I'm yours."

His voice, level again, adds quietly, "...and I'm yours."

We're both quiet for a moment. A rush of emotion surges through me and I want to blurt out that I love him, but for as 21st century as I am, I still seem to hold on to old-fashioned decrees about how soon you should confess your feelings, or whom should say them first. What's not holding me back though is concern that he doesn't feel the same. As much as I want to hear the words from him, I feel them with every look and every touch he gives me.

"Back to tonight... Your instructions are simple. Beginning when we get off of the phone, I want to lubricate and insert your small butt plug. No playing with yourself or other stimulation of any kind. By 3pm, I want you to have switched to your medium plug, then just before you come over insert your large plug and leave it in. If at any time you need to evacuate your bowels, remove the plug, clean up, then reinsert it."

I decide that instead of an insurance adjustor, this time he sounds like doctor preparing me for a procedure. Judging by the flood of wetness in my panties at this thought, I consider sharing my long dormant doctor fantasy with him some time....

"Yes, Sir." Neither of us comments on what these instructions are clearly implying. Tonight he plans to fuck me in the ass. I feel my tight hole clench involuntarily, unsure if I'm feeling anxiety, desire, or both. All I know is that there is no other man I would want to take my virgin hole.

We make a plan to meet at his place at 6pm tonight. He gives me clear instructions on what to pack, including the dress I wore when we stayed out at his cabin, some jeans, t-shirts and hiking boots. I'm curious what he has planned for the weekend but am also excited to let him take charge. The need to plan and control everything begins to ebb as the newly familiar feelings of passivity and acceptance flow in.

After we get off the phone, I use the bathroom, clean up, then retrieve my bag of toys. I pull out the three plugs, but look longingly at my large vibrator as I realize that I haven't used it on myself since Patrick and I started dating. Picking it up by the base with one hand, I stroke my other hand up and down the smooth ridges.

Closing my eyes, I imagine that it's Patrick's cock cradled by my fist. Without conscious thought I lean forward, mouth open, and push the head of the vibrator inside my mouth. Using my tongue to lubricate the toy cock with my saliva, I push it deeper and deeper until I feel it straining to enter my throat. My already soaked panties become slick with juices, and the wet fabric begins to bunch between the lips of my pussy, rubbing against my swollen clit. I begin to rock my hips back and forth in a feeble attempt to gain friction as my mouth works over the cock.

Suddenly my eyes fly open as I realize what I'm doing; exactly the opposite of what he'd requested. Part of me would argue that I didn't touch myself per se, but I know it's a weak argument. I stop my hip thrusts and pull the vibrator from my mouth. Thick cords of saliva remain attached to the head of the cock as I pull it out. I collect the viscous fluid in one hand and lubricate the small butt plug. Pulling aside my wet panties, I push the plug in with one swift motion until the base is seated between my cheeks. Adjusting my panties back in place, I lower my skirt and get on with the task of painting; only now I'm miserably turned on.

Remaining in a constant state of unfulfilled arousal, I switch out the plugs through the course of the day until I find myself packing up the car with my bag and Griffin. Gingerly I sit myself in the driver's seat, the large plug stretching and probing my tight asshole. I turn on loud music to distract myself as I drive across town towards my weekend of submission. I laugh out loud as I realize how fitting my choice in band is; Flogging Molly.

***

Whereas I live in the northeast section of the city, Patrick lives in the southeast. Although it only takes around fifteen minutes to get from one house to the other, the vibe of the neighborhoods shifts from being a bit edgier in the northeast, to a little more laid back in the southeast. Whereas the northeast is filled with art galleries and bars, the southeast has more coffee shops, parks, and food co-ops.

I pull on to his street and locate his house. It's a big, old four-square that sits up on a little hill above the street causing it to look even larger. The house is painted a deep pewter color with white shutters and black trim.

As I'm parking, Patrick walks out of his house with Guinness in tow, a huge smile on his face. Griffin and I get out of the car and before I know it he grabs me off the sidewalk in a huge bear hug; lifting me high off of the ground. A quick cop of my ass assures him that the plug is in place. With wide eyes and a devious grin, he pushes the plug in deeper through my clothes causing me to let out a lustful moan. A little protective of me, Griffin begins to nip at Patrick's ankles until he relents and returns me carefully back onto the sidewalk. Before heading up to the house, Patrick says he'd like to show me something, so I leash up Griffin before he takes my hand and leads me up his street a short distance.

At the corner of his street, just down from his house, is a gorgeous street mural painted on the pavement taking up the entire intersection. On the corner itself is a small, covered gazebo with a bench and a bulletin board housing multiple fliers. Patrick tells me that he built the gazebo over 10 years ago as a neighborhood meeting place, and that the mural had been designed and partially painted by his ex-wife Maureen. I do my best to appreciate its beauty, but I feel the sharp edge of caddy jealousy and even a little ire course through me. Rationally, I know it's unfair since I don't know her side of what went wrong between the two of them, but looking at what they once created together for their neighborhood shows me that at one time she was just as invested as he was in their marriage and community before letting it all go. My heart breaks for him. A flash of my own culpability in the deterioration of my marriage stings me as I realize I'm in no place to cast stones.