Realistic fiction, close to my current relationship dynamic and scenario. This is my first story on Literotica. Enjoy, freaky people. Feedback appreciated :) Chapters weekly. At least 10 parts.
Why is it that I am so nervous to merely exist? Miriam rarely had the prime opportunity to be the true, 5'9, 155 lb, 24-year-old caramel goddess that she envisioned she would grow into back when she was a fantasizing, teenaged girl. Now, as she lay with her slim legs pulled to her ample chest, arms splayed to the sides like in Titanic, cut off from her most handsome lover, Jean, she quietly moaned into her hands. No one would hear her underneath her black, silk duvet. It had been a week since he, the love of her life, her ex-boss, went away on vacation.
She had met Jean LaCroix when she began working as a patrol cop in the northern part of the city a year prior. Him, the perfect V-shaped emblem of masculinity, he seemed eternally thirty in the best way, though he was ten years ahead of that reasonable age estimation. Handsome. His sandy blonde hair curtained his square jawline. It was longer than most men's, yet it was ruggedly intriguing. His look was made more charmingly austere by his narrow, yet expressive, icy, blue eyes and his porcelain complexion. The latter was changeable at a moment's notice by her mere wanton gaze. She had watched his normal pallor turn flush with both desire and shameful glee -- such a human notion- because he was under her scrutiny once more. Jean, a man everyone admired. 5'10 and 200 pounds of Adonis, many nights spent running her hands over his sensitive, bare arms in the police gymnasium. How he would melt into her touch, and her womanhood would be stuffed with his cock not even five minutes later.
Miriam knew that he needed her. In turn, she craved his discipline. Jean used to have her naked body sprawled across his lap, ass up, so that he could spank her hard. She adored these punishments. She was a little bit slutty after all, seducing and fucking her married boss. She'd had so much of his seed in between her legs that it had ruined her for other men. No other man could fill her cunt with seed nine times in a row with no refractory period. His cock was always hard for her, drawn to her. She touched him in a way that no one ever would besides her. His entire cock, enveloped in her pretty mouth. She licked his balls and sucked on them, dressed up for him, kept her cunt shaved for him, and cut her hair for him. Whenever Mira touched Jean, it was with tender love, playful teasing, or submissive grace.
Mira walked to her shower and touched her milky, 34DDs. They'd filled up only in the past week. Mira had been taking Fenugreek and had hormonal fluctuations recently due to changing with her birth control routine. Now, her body was raw and hot, completely in heat, and her breasts had swelled with milk, a side effect of taking specific medications for her mild health conditions. Jean never made her feel bad about herself for having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and he stopped when she felt like her joints were going to dislocate during sex. He was such a loving Dominant. Daddy always took such good care of his girl. But now, Mira had been fired, and Daddy needed to punish her. They were always looking for a reason to get rid of Mira, and it hurt. Her attorney had a pretty good case for an emotional distress lawsuit against the Department, as they knew Mira had experienced a violent crime, and some supervisors perpetuated an environment of workplace harassment that left her in tears nearly every day. Quietlly, of course.
Milk emptied out the milk into the tub as the water cascaded down her caramel skin and soaked her curly, tapered locks. She never felt beautiful until this year. Her generous friend Bri's dumpster-diving escapades at Ulta Beauty had produced a skincare routine that would rival that of many celebrities. Her skin had a certain golden glow, underneath her cafe au lait complexion, a combination of her predominately Black American and Italian American heritage. It used to feel like a curse. She had curly hair when every girl wanted flat-ironed straight hair, and thick, dark eyebrows when thin eyebrows a la Gwen Stefani were all-the-rage. Thick, curvaceous thighs, a plump ass, and narrow waist that appeared suddenly as she stopped the hormonal birth control that she had been on for years prior. She slipped two fingers into her wet vagina and felt the slippery egg-white material that meant she was fertile.
Miriam finished scrubbing her body, shaving, and moisturizing her youthful skin. She always made sure to be in as good of a physical disposition as possible for her lover. Jean deserved it. A tired body that worked harder than anyone else at the Department. The Department that fired his young love. They wanted each other every day. The conversations they had, the proclivities they naturally shared- it felt unreal. This wasn't a momentary honeymoon either- they had loved each other for quite some time. His calloused hands had glazed over every centimeter of her velvety skin. He'd cared for her after many physically painful transgressions, moments that she'd otherwise have sobbed through alone. Any way to alleviate his pain even marginally- was a success to Mira. But now, she needed to prepare to submit to his punishment. This loss of time, loss of Jean, it was unbearable. She needed him. She ached for him.
All 20 candles were lit. Her two-bedroom ranch house was aglow in amber ambiance, complete with swirling plumes of incense smoke, whirled further by ceiling fans. An ignominious visitor was to be expected in half an hour, Miriam ran the Swiffer down the hardwood floor and dusted the wooden surfaces once more. She poured him and herself chilled glasses of Moscato. Jean had many fine tastes, and she liked to honor them. In turn, he gifted her and truly tended to her. Many times they just had fun conversations or kissed deeply. She loved him, truly, and he still had trouble sometimes comprehending that she willingly loved serving him.
A knock at the front door signified her lover.
She stood behind the door as she opened it for him. As it shut, she was revealed, Jean's gray tshirt clinging to her bare breasts, hard nipples and large areolas visible through the thin fabric. She stood in only her black boyshorts, no shoes, red nail polish and compression thigh-highs for her blood pressure. Jean locked her door, and sat on the floor near her shoe-rack to take off his worn, black, work boots. She scampered off to her gothic bedroom and laid on her back. Jean entered, adorned only in his navy, 5-11 pants. His gorgeous pectorals and toned obliques glimmered in the candlelight. The faint, smokey remnants of burning, incense cones twirling in the air gave his form a preternatural quality found naught in many men. She went to his feet immediately with tears in her eyes.
"You know what's coming, Mir."
She bowed her head in acknowledgement.
