"Learning My Place" - Monday & Tuesday
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Driving home after my first gay experience in almost 40 years, I stopped at a park to compose myself. I was dazed and confused, but I had to admire the way William had set me up, how he had gotten me to relive our teenage fooling around, to relive me using my mouth on him. Step by step he had manipulated the evening, and had manipulated me. And while I was upset at being used, on the other hand, I wondered if William was right - was there really nothing to be ashamed at? Was what we did just physical body stuff? (And since it wasn't with a woman, did it even count as cheating on my wife. How's that for rationalizing?)
My wife. She was in bed when I got home. I showered and slipped in bed. "Did you have a good time," she asked sleepily.
"It was nice to reminisce." It was also nice to have a wild sexual experience, I wanted to tell her, since our marital sex was so plain and routine. Even intercourse was becoming more and more infrequent. As I lay there reliving my motel room fun I grew aroused. Had I really sucked his cock? And had I really been so submissive, kneeling on the floor while he called me a good cocksucker? The more I thought about the night, the stiffer my penis became. I waited until I heard my wife's gentle snores before I reached down to squeeze myself. Too turned-on to sleep, I slipped into the bathroom and masturbated.
In the morning I awoke to a text from William. I took my phone into the bathroom. "I have a busy schedule today. Meet me around 8. I'll text you later."
His audacity surprised me since. "Last night was a one time thing," I typed.
A minute later: "You enjoyed it too much to not continue..." A minute later came a text with a video link. "Look how much you enjoyed it. If anyone saw they would say you REALLY enjoyed it".
I made sure the volume was low and opened the video file. Shit, he had somehow recorded video of the previous night. And the clip he sent was carefully edited (how had he found the time?). It was all me. Me saying, "I want to feel you. Your hard-on." Me reaching over to touch him. Me saying, "I want to suck your cock." Me with my mouth on him. Me saying, "I want your cum. Please." Anyone seeing this would surely see how much I enjoyed the night.
"I take it I WILL see you tonight."
He wasn't technically blackmailing me, and yet wasn't he? My first reaction was anger. How could he do this to me? But knowing there was no way I could let wife and friends see this I had no choice. "I'll be there," I reluctantly texted.
But here's the strange thing: Once my anger and fear subsided, once I resigned myself to having no other option, I started rationalizing that it wouldn't be so bad. In fact, I actually started looking forward to the night. The night before I had had the best sex in months, even if it was with another man.
After work I hit the gym and had dinner with my wife. After seven I received a simple text. "8:30. Room 207."
"Have fun," my wife told me as I left the house. She was sitting in front of the TV, watching a news channel.
Driving over I wondered what William had planned for me. I envisioned him sucking me tonight, a little quid pro quid. But something about the terseness of the text - only the time and room number - gave me an uneasy feeling.
He greeted me at door in a white cotton robe. "I'm beat tonight. Long, rough day. I just need release so I can get a good night's sleep." He turned and walked towards the bed.
I stood there, flummoxed. There was no hello, no small talk, just a flat declaration that he needed 'release' and the assumption that I was here solely to provide it. He rolled into bed; his head found the pillow. He opened his robe and exposed his semi-erection. I was still at the door. He patted the mattress, as if prodding a puppy. "Come."
Half-stunned I approached the foot of the bed and took in the sight of him. He looked ... manly. His physique, his muscles, his hairy chest, his five o'clock stubble. He looked like someone who commanded respect, who deserved to be serviced. And his manner tonight proved his superiority over me. He acted as if I was nothing more than a servant. Who was I to disagree?
Still dazed, I knelt on the mattress. He spread his legs to give me room. I lowered myself, rested on my elbows, and gripped his cock with my right hand. Tonight I was more clear headed so I was able to fully examine his cock. I noticed the veins on the base, the smoothness on the head, a mottled scar on the underside. I noticed the different textures in different places. I tried to compare it to my own penis. And as it firmed up I used my left hand to fondle his testicles. "That feels good," he told me.
Working up a mouthful of spit, I let a long river of saliva drip down to lubricate him. Palming the base of his cock, I twisted my hand around it, back and forth, back and forth. I stroked him for about a minute before lowering my mouth on him.
What a strange situation. I was fully dressed - I still had my shoes on - and I was in bed sucking off a mostly naked 50-something-year-old man. Could I have been more submissive? I doubt it, and that was surely his intention.
Then I heard him say, "Tonight I'm going to cum in your mouth." I looked up without removing my mouth from him. "You don't have to swallow it but you're going to take it in your mouth."
I can't explain it but somehow it felt natural to take orders from him, to be told that I was going to let him cum in my mouth. Who was I? What was I becoming? But instead of thinking about this I stayed busy with the task at hand. Which was to satisfy him, to give him release. I heard him moan a few times, then I felt his hand on the back of my head. He started thrusting his groin at me. I knew what was coming. But nothing fully prepares you for the sudden eruptions in your mouth, to feel a cock pulsing through the base as cum spills out and shoots into your mouth. I tried to pull away if I wanted to but his grip on my head was tight. I tried to not breath, to not swallow. A stream slipped out of my lips. Only now could I back away enough; his cock slipped out of my mouth, another spurt of ejaculate landed on the sheets. As cum slipped out of my lips I spied a box of tissues on the nightstand. I grabbed a handful and spit out the contents of my mouth.
William smiled at me as I headed to the bathroom. Reaching it I spit more out into the sink. Only then did I finally swallow. Only then did I get my first taste of cum. To be honest, it wasn't the worst taste in the world, which was fortunate as I expected William would be 'treating' me to more.
I turned the faucet on and cupped handfuls of warm water. When I finished rinsing my mouth I wiped my face with a towel and examined myself in the mirror. As my head cleared I realized what tonight was: William had fully asserted his control over me. He was training me, teaching me my place, and preparing me for what he had planned for the rest of the week.
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Wednesday morning I received this text: "Wear your wife's sexiest panties. All day. I'll see you after work."
It's funny but I didn't question IF I would do this, only how I'd fulfill his request without my wife finding out. She was in bed, half awake, so I waited until she got up to pee to sneak into her panty drawer. I snatched a scarlet red silk thong from the bottom, one of the few sexy panties she owned. I felt like a guilty teenager stealing my sister's underwear (yes, I had done that decades ago). Hearing the toilet flush I hurriedly shut the drawer. My heart raced as I hid the underwear and passed my wife in the hallway. She gave me a sleepy kiss and I stepped into the bathroom.
I shaved and showered, toweled myself off, then stood under the bright LED lighting. I felt a tingle of excitement as I slipped the underwear on. My wife isn't a small woman, so her large thong fit, although the edges of my testicles hung out the sides. I tucked in my penis and examined myself in the mirror. Since my body isn't overly 'manly' I didn't look as ridiculous as you might think. And since I have a bit of a panty fetish this was a big turn-on for me (a fetish my wife wasn't one to understand much less indulge). Patting the back of my butt I felt the panty's fabric against my ass. It was a secret thrill I would have all day at work.
Secret thrills: stealing into the panty drawer, hiding my actions from my wife, the feel of the thong along my ass crack. It was exciting to be doing this, especially since my wife and I had had settled into a relatively plain vanilla sex life. And I felt something else: Arousal at submitting to William, of giving him sexual control over me; I was living out some of the femdom/maledom pornography I occasionally viewed.
Before noon William texted asking for proof. Sneaking into the men's room I found a stall, dropped my trousers, and snapped a picture of my soft bulge encased in scarlet fabric. For good measure I snapped a picture of my backside in the thong. A minute later he texted, "Now a picture of you hard." That was easy to provide. I rubbed myself through the soft fabric. Once my erection formed, I snapped and sent a dick pic. His response: "Very good. See you after work." It took all my willpower to resist bringing myself to orgasm.