This is Part Two of a response to Wanting You by insanewaffles.
*
It was not what she'd expected. Not at all. But surprises can be good, right? She fought the urge to just drop the whole thing, count up the cons vs. pros, chalk it up to weird impulse or whatever. In her mind she almost saw the itemized list against it: he was older, older than she thought could even gain her interest. She had no idea what he even looked like, where he lived, what he did. Okay, well, she did kind of know what he did. He made her feel all hot and bothered. He made her feel desired, even hungered for. So there was that. And that was such a good thing after all the false starts, the disastrous "hanging out", the potential "hookings up" and all the other travesties of the love life scene.
From that uncontrollable moment when she wrote out her desires in an erotic story slash confession and posted it and received his email about it -- her world had shifted a bit crazily. Now she teetered on the brink of something entirely new for her. Or was it so new really?
Certainly, she'd had mental images playing. Fantasies, odd flickerings that sent her emotions and hormones galloping along the shore of -- what? Some place deep and sensual and wild and yet, too, firmly in his control. She got that. Safe and yet passionately sexy. How could that be? How could someone wreak that kind of sexual havoc and yet still make her feel secure and safe? It didn't make sense, her mind told her. Her erect nipples, the faster beating of her pulse, the inescapable growing moistness of her pussy told her differently. She was falling down the rabbit hole, but she wasn't afraid.
Her own two-fold nature actually felt accepted. Okay, that was sort of new. No analysis, no sideways glance, no debate, just pure, honest acceptance. She was bi-sexual. She sometimes felt dominant, sometimes submissive. Could that even work in the world? Weren't you one or the other? But that felt so limited. And what was weirder still, he didn't seem to think any of it was a big deal. Reading between the lines of his email -- mostly the what he didn't say -- she knew he would be okay with the thought of her lips and tongue gliding up and down another woman's pussy as well as doing the same slow, smooth, teasing slide of tongue up and down his hard cock shaft. Nibbling and tongue-circling another woman's clit or the swollen head of his cock. Even -- and this shocked her sensibilities not a little -- kneeling at his feet, submissively, her cheek resting against his thigh, gazing at his lovely cock, while her own more submissive female companion gently stroked fingertips along her trembling pussy lips.
She shook her head slightly and tried to calm her breathing down. Dominant man, submissive her, dominant her, submissive other woman. She tried to assemble the geometry of it; a sensual naked triangle without jealousy or competition or...well, any kind of disruption. It wasn't what she'd expected, but it seemed do-able. Really do-able.
She knows she's getting way ahead of herself. Basing too much on what she desired and not enough on -- what? -- reality? What the hell was reality anyway? Didn't you make your own realities? She knew that was how it worked. The old times, the old ways of separation, of just doing things one way or not at all -- those had played out with not so good results. So, why not try something different? Why not just go with whatever flow he seemed to direct? He did seem to know what she really wanted and he was good with it, so why fight it with her silly guilt and worries? She knows they will pass and fade if she just lets him...do his thing, work his magic on her, and let her do her own thing, too.
