Keep This Secret Pt 01

This is Chapter One in the story of David Lightfoot, an ordinary man with an ordinary job in an ordinary world just like ours. Then, something extraordinary happened. What would you do in David's situation?

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I hate to admit how stupid I acted with Mary. It's humiliating. Not my finest hour. But you won't understand this story unless I confess how much she managed to emasculate me, and the petty, mean-spirited way I reacted.

It took me a long time to realize that Mary is a user. All her life, she has used her spectacular beauty to manipulate men into giving her what she wants. Fancy meals in expensive restaurants. Designer clothes, shoes, purses and jewelry. Trips to resorts in exotic locales. I am proud to say that I realized what she was doing in time to prevent her from making a complete fool of me. Still, I took her on a lot of expensive dates, and I purchased a nice bracelet, and I did it all because I believed I would eventually have a romantic relationship with the sexiest woman I'd ever met.

But then I realized that Mary had no intention of ever going to bed with me. Her plan was to lead me on, and on, and on, making me think she'd be mine if I just spent enough money on her. I'll explain later how I figured this out. All you need to know now is that Mary made me act like such a fool that it hurt me deeply. It made me feel like the dumbest wimp in the world.

And that's why the present moment is so satisfying. I am lying on my back in bed, looking up at Mary's beautiful naked body. She's riding my cock cowgirl style. Her eyes are closed and she's gritting her teeth from the effort of grinding around and around on top of me in a determined effort to make me have an orgasm. I am working just as hard not to cum, because I'm enjoying everything she's doing. I want it to last.

She's had three orgasms and is closing in on number four. Mary is a strong, athletic woman who works out a lot to maintain that incredible body of hers, and she's gotten a real aerobic workout riding me. Mary's body is covered with a sheen of sweat, which is beginning to run down her breasts and drip from her large, meaty nipples. Her inner thighs are so slick that she is sliding around on top of me as she moves up and down, right and left, front and back, and around and around.

It's taking too much effort to keep from cumming, and I'm so aroused that I'm ready to give Mary what she's worked so hard to get. I began to climax as soon as I stopped holding back. When Mary felt my cock throb and fill her with warm wetness, she began to cum for the fourth and final time. She had such a nice, strong orgasm that I was proud of her. Mary never had satisfying orgasms before she met me. Can you believe it? Never.

But that's for later. For now, Mary made some loud, sexy moaning sounds that were very exciting. I love it when women make noise in bed, and Mary never fails to provide that particular form of excitement. I watched her shudder as her orgasm receded. Mary finally slumped forward, collapsing face-down on the bed beside me.

I'd been admiring the front of her body for a long time. Now, I had a nice view of her firm, fabulous bottom. I ran my hand over her curvy back and butt. I gave it a nice, hard swat, enjoying the sound of the slap echoing in the room. Her butt was so firm the flesh barely rippled at all. She'd done a million squats and lunges to get such a fabulous bottom.

"That was wonderful, Mary. Thank you," I said.

"Thank YOU, Sir," she said. "You always make me feel good."

I sat up in bed. I needed to take a shower to wash off the smell of sex before going to work. "You should rest for a minute before you make my breakfast," I said.

"I'll see you in the kitchen," she said, lying motionless.

While I was in the shower I noticed that my abs looked a little more defined. I've always been in pretty good shape, making an effort to exercise and eat sensibly. But Mary knew everything there was to know about diet and exercise, and I'd gotten healthier since I started doing her workouts and eating her meals. As I watched the water run down the muscular outline of my emerging six-pack, it seemed like a reminder of the fact that my life had improved a lot lately. It would only get better.

By the time I dried my body and put on clothes for work, Mary was in the kitchen finishing my breakfast. She was wearing the outfit that I liked in the morning, including a sexy matching bra and thong panties, a cute apron, and a pair of high-heeled slippers that did wonderful things for her legs and bottom. She looked like a cross between Betty Crocker and Playmate of the Year. The plate she put in front of me had an eggwhite omelet with sauteed veggies. She poured me a cup of fresh-ground coffee with a splash of oat milk. I used to think oat milk was a stupid fad, but it actually tasted better than dairy milk, and it's healthier. Thanks, Mary, for educating me about that.

"Let's review the plan for your day," I said.

Mary sat down and gave me her full attention. Organizing her day had become part of our morning ritual. Mary had been a dreadfully unorganized woman when I met her; I helped her accomplish more with her time.

"After you eat, clean up the kitchen," I said.

"Yes Sir," she said.

"Do a load of laundry," I said.

"Yes Iir," she said.

"Vacuum the carpets."

"Yes Sir."

"Can you think of any other chores that need your attention?"

"I should change the sheets," she said. "We sweat all over them."

"Good idea," I said. "Do we need groceries?"

"Not today. I need to buy some fresh produce, but that can wait until tomorrow."

"Will you have time to go to the gym before work?"

"Probably not," she said. "I am due for a stretching routine. I can do that here before my shower."

"Good. I like you nice and limber," I said.

Mary smiled. "I know you do, Sir," she said.

"You're working a four hour shift today, right?" I asked.

"That's right," she said. Mary worked as a hair stylist in a beauty shop. Her average hourly wage was not bad, but she seldom worked more than 30 hours a week, so her paychecks were paltry. It was nice that she had more than enough spare time to devote to all my needs, but I would have preferred that she contribute more to our finances. Maybe there was something we could do about that in the future.

I sometimes had Mary stop at my lab around lunchtime so she could give me a quick blowjob, but there wasn't time for that today. "I'll be home around five," I said. "Be sure to wear something sexy. I'm going to be ready to ravish you the second after I walk in the door."

Mary smiled again. "I'm looking forward to it, Sir."

I took the last bite of my omelet, then stood up to leave. "Give me a kiss," I said.

There was a blissful expression on Mary's face as she looked into my eyes. I gave her a deep, passionate kiss that left her breathless. When I pulled away, I said the words that were so important to Mary that I made sure I said them at least one time every single day.

"You are a very good girl," I said. "You take wonderful care of me. My life is better because you are with me. I care about you, and I want you to be happy. Thank you for everything you do."

There's no way to describe the loving, happy expression those words always put on Mary's face. She gave me the response she always gives. "Thank you, Sir," she said. "You make me very happy."

I think I've kept you in suspense long enough. You must be wondering what happened. When I met Mary, she was a selfish, manipulative cockteaser who exploited men by using her sexuality to make them give her whatever she wanted. She had sex as seldom as possible, and she never enjoyed it. She could barely tolerate vaginal sex, and every other kind repulsed her.

All that had changed. Now, Mary is a generous, considerate, giving woman who is completely devoted to me. She cooks my meals, cleans my house, does my shopping, runs my errands, and makes love any time I ask. Instead of hating sex, she loves it, and she does it very, very well.

I'm going to explain this as quickly and simply as I can. It has to do with my work. I think it's exciting, but I realize most people think it's boring, so I'll spare you as many tedious details as possible.

I invented a process that affects the operation of the brain. It does amazing things.

I am a neuroscientist; that means I study the brain and the way it controls behavior. I earned my doctorate a little more than a year ago. My thesis got a lot of respect from established scientists in the field, I published my results in a major journal, and I got a great job at the University of Southern California, which applied to the National Institutes of Health for a grant to let me look for new therapies based on my graduate work. In case you're wondering, that's pretty good for a 27 year old junior scientist standing on the first rung of the academic ladder.

You can't imagine how much I want to go into more details here. I want to explain what it was like studying the brain waves of Zen Buddists during deep meditation. I want to talk about the time I spent conducting functional MRI scans of the brains of people during my experiments. I want to talk about the time I managed to train four dogs to dance together in a line like the Rockettes. I would love love LOVE to show you that video; it's the cutest thing you've ever seen.

But I won't do any of those things. Maybe we can talk about them later. All you need to know now is that I found a way to generate frequencies of sound that induce an altered state of consciousness. When people hear certain tones in certain patterns, they become very open to suggestions, and they become absolutely honest. If someone wanted a foolproof lie detector, I could build it. It's one thing I wanted to do someday.

I'm sure you are figuring out the obvious. I used my invention to transform my Mary from a frigid bitch into a doting sexpot.

It's time for me to admit something: I'm ashamed of a lot of the things I did to Mary. She didn't deserve that kind of treatment. She exploited and manipulated me, but I never had the right to act with so much petty meanness. I don't want to be that kind of person. I've changed the way I treat Mary, and I've pledged to myself that I will never treat anyone like that again.

That pledge is important because I've used my invention on a lot of women, and I've made sure that they always benefit as much as me. Always.

Let's talk about how I met Mary. When I got my current job, I joined a gym and started working out regularly. My lifestyle wasn't the best when I was an overworked, underpaid grad student. There were so many 16 hour days and pizza dinners that I was pretty soft and weak by the time I got my ph.d. I resolved to fix all that as soon as I got a decent paycheck and a decent schedule.

I was 26 at the time, and my workouts showed good results quickly. I've always been a natural athlete - I played soccer for my college when I was an undergrad - and it was gratifying to finally see lean muscle coming back when I looked in the mirror.

I hadn't had time to date during graduate school. Grad students in competitive fields work every waking hour, and I knew there was no point in trying to start a relationship because as soon as I finished my doctorate I'd get a job at some university far away. As soon as I saw positive changes in my body, I signed up for a couple of dating apps and began seeking out attractive women.

There were lots of attractive women out there, and I had some romantic successes, but there was no one special in my life when I met Mary. In my experience, it's easy to find women to date and sleep with, but things become difficult after that. All the women I dated were looking for long-term exclusive relationships, and I wasn't ready for that. My studies had prevented me from doing much casual dating, and I was anxious to be with as many women as possible before I settled down.

That's what I wanted on the day that Mary wandered over and said hello. She was a member of the gym where I worked out, and it was hard to miss her. She wore expensive designer work-out clothes of bright colored spandex and lycra. They were the kinds of outfits women wear when they want you to know how gorgeous they are. I'd dated some very attractive women, but Mary was more beautiful than any of them. She looked like someone you'd see on the cover of the

Sports Illustrated

swimsuit edition, not a girl you'd meet in a neighborhood gym.

But there she was, striking up a conversation with me. "I've seen you here a couple of times," she said. "You're doing a good job. You're getting good results."

In my experience, women give you compliments when they want you to ask them out. Mary started smiling, and giggling, and giving me those girly looks you see when they want you to know they'd say yes if you ask them on a date. I played that little game for a respectful amount of time, then said I'd like to get to know her better. She agreed to have coffee after we finished exercising. We went to a nice little cafe and started talking.

I missed some obvious warning signs. Mary ordered the most expensive items on the menu and made it clear she expected me to pay. She talked a lot about her personal appearance, and it was easy to see that she was very, very vain. She told me she worked as a hairstylist, and I saw she was passionate about clothes, cosmetics, diet, exercise, and anything else that contributed to her striking appearance.

That's all fine. I have nothing against the beauty industry. It's my impression that most stylists work pretty hard for their money. But Mary didn't appear to be interested in anything else. She didn't know anything about history, politics, geography, art, lor iterature. At one point, I realized she didn't know if a billion was bigger or smaller than a million.

I ignored all that because she was so sexy. I wanted Mary, and I was happy to overlook her shortcomings if it meant I got to see her naked. I'm being blunt here because I want to be honest about the reasons I immediately started acting like a fool.

When we finished our coffee, I told Mary I'd like to see her again, and I was happy when she said she felt the same way. When I suggested dinner, she mentioned that there was a restaurant she wanted to try. I recognized the name. It was the kind of fancy, expensive place that requires reservations made well in advance. I'd have to wear a jacket and tie, and Mary would have to wear a fancy dress. It was the kind of place I considered appropriate for a special occasion, not a first date for two people just getting acquainted. But I agreed. I figured that if that was the kind of dinner that would convince Mary to take off her panties, that's what I'd buy for her.

It ended up being even more expensive than I expected. Mary wore a stunning, sexy designer dress with bare shoulders, a slit skirt, and breathtaking cleavage. I'm sure people wondered if she was a celebrity when she glided across the dining room. When the waiter asked if we wanted cocktails, Mary ordered some fancy drink I'd never heard of before. When asked if we wanted appetizers, Mary ordered two.

You know how high-end restaurants always suggest getting a bottle of wine with the highest price on their wine list? When the waiter suggested it, Mary said that's what wanted. She ordered one of the priciest entrees on the menu, then ate less than half. I consider myself fortunate that she didn't want dessert, but that was only because she'd eaten so much already. After the meal was over, I suggested that we go to an intimate little tavern for conversation, but she announced that she needed to get to bed early, so she wanted me to take her home.

The bill was high enough to make my eyes water. I had never paid that much for a meal. When I leaned in to kiss her cheek when I dropped her off, she pulled away. Like I said, I missed a lot of obvious warning signs.

It's embarrassing to admit how many times I let Mary talk me into buying her expensive restaurant meals. The only good news is that I figured out a way to keep her from getting the most overpriced wine on the menu. I'd quickly review the wine list and pick out moderately priced bottles. When the waiter came around, I'd be prepared to say something like "This pinot noir looks good to me. We'll have that." It was a small victory, but it was something.

Mary convinced me to go shopping with her. I quickly realized that she wanted me to buy stuff for her. I'm proud to say that I thought it was crazy for a woman who hadn't even kissed me to expect I'd buy her designer clothes, so I always found a way to gracefully decline. Alas, she wore me down one day, and I capitulated. I bought her a bracelet. It was "only" a few hundred bucks, but I was still clinging to the notion that if I just kept treating her like my girlfriend, she'd eventually start acting like my girlfriend.

At one point she mentioned some fancy resort she'd heard about, and she had the nerve to drop hints suggesting I take her there. Again, this was coming from a woman who HADN'T EVEN KISSED ME!!!! It took some effort not to laugh in her face. "I would love to take you there," I said. "Maybe that's something we could do when we get better acquainted." I said it in a way that made it clear I wanted to get acquainted with her pussy, and she gave me a little frown that said all I needed to know.

I got my final insight later that night. It was obvious that Mary was only interested in a transactional relationship; the only question was whether she had any intention of ever letting the relationship become sexual. It occured to me that there's a name for women like that. Women who want to spend time with men in return for money and gifts are called Sugar Babies; the men who support their expensive habits are Sugar Daddies. There are websites for men and women seeking those kinds of relationships. I would never do that myself, but I was curious about it, so I went on one of those websites and began looking at the women advertising themselves there.

I'm sure you know what happened. I found Mary. She didn't want me. She wanted me to buy things for her. I started adding up how much I'd spent on her, and the total shocked me. I'd never done anything so stupid before, and I was ashamed of myself. And I was angrier than I'd ever been. She'd completely emasculated me. I cursed. Punched my sofa cushions. Paced back and forth as I muttered profanities about what I wanted to do to Mary.

You get the idea. I barely slept that night, and I felt like hammered dog turds the next day. Mary called, and I didn't answer. She left a message saying there was some new restaurant she thought we should try, and she asked me to call her and talk about it.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to confront her, or just ghost her. The only thing I knew was that I owed her absolutely nothing, so I could take my time figuring it out.

It didn't take long.

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S

hould David feel guilty about Mary? He changed her basic nature, but didn't he make her happier? Didn't he make her a better person?

If you like this story, please take time to vote five stars. I've been gratified that so many of you voted that way for my story

Enslaved - Love In The Future

. It would please me if you checked it out; it's the best thing I've written in years.

Enslaved

has plenty of explicit sex, but a lot of the text is devoted to character and plot development. My feeling is that erotica is hotter when it involves sex between characters we care about.

Chapter Two of

Keep This Secret

tells how David's relationship with Mary develops.