The Bully

After the retreat in Joshua Tree I abstained from sexual relations with Samantha for two weeks. This gave me time to submit to a battery of STI testing and secure the necessary negative test results before finally making love to my girlfriend. At this point in our relationship Samantha never even noticed, or if she did, she never felt compelled to mention it. It was disconcerting that I was fantasizing about Lela as I fucked Samantha, but the human psyche is extremely complicated and I allowed my weakness to influence my behavior.

Sex with Samantha had become fairly vanilla, as her requirement that unequivocal consent be granted for every escalation of sexual activity obviously diminished any spontaneity on my part. Our lovemaking would follow a fairly predictable routine, whereupon we would make out until Samantha's juices were flowing, and then she would attempt to coerce me into getting pegged by her. Once she was certain that her efforts to butt-fuck me were in vain, Samantha would make me satisfy her orally, often grinding out several releases on my face, before we would focus on my release. Samantha would invite me to enter her in the missionary position, but unless I asked for permission to try something different, it wasn't going to happen.

I wanted Samantha to dress up in her garter-belt and stockings so that I could fuck her doggy-style. I wanted her to oil up her pert breasts and hold them together for me so that I could fuck them to completion. I wanted to shower together and enjoy her expert rendition of the Rusty Trombone. However, once Samantha was satiated, we coupled in the missionary position, and I would close my eyes and fantasize about the CumSlut until I blew my load inside my girlfriend's tight, well-lubricated pussy. My sexual releases with Samantha were satisfying, but all I could think about was Lela eating my ass, or inviting me to butt-fuck her.

Of course, under strict instruction to have zero contact with Lela, my fantasies went largely unfulfilled and slowly my sex life with Samantha cooled off. Occasionally, I would steal a pair of Samantha's soiled panties from the laundry hamper and jerk off while inhaling her scent. Samantha and I still shared a bed and we would have intimate conversations and cuddle at night. However, as time passed it was easier for me to jerk off into the crotch of her silky panties than to try and navigate the complexities of securing consent for every sexual activity.

At some point I think Samantha put two and two together, but apparently aware of my furtive behavior, she simply chose to ignore it. After some weeks of abstinence, Samantha took a different approach, regularly masturbating in our shared bed while I showered. She made no secret of it either, often leaving her vibrator and her wet panties on my pillow, as if to invite me to add my load to her vaginal secretions that coated the crotch.

I could never resist that urge either, and would emerge from the shower with an erection and the hope that Samantha had left me a gift on my pillow. Occasionally, she would spritz her intimates with a healthy dose of her favorite perfume, and I would sniff them as I jerked off, exploding within moments of applying my personal lubricant to my erect cock. We developed a routine that ensured that we both got our needs met without addressing the deficiencies in our relationship. Samantha would head downstairs after she got herself off, remaining there until I joined her for breakfast. My basic sexual needs were taken care of but it wasn't enough to keep my mind from Lela.

Lela and I still exchanged the occasional text, but I had to be mindful of the fact that Samantha had expressly forbidden me to communicate with my ex-girlfriend. Then, one morning after Samantha had left the house for an early court hearing, and I was about to jerk off into a pair of her soiled panties that she had left on my pillow, my desire got the better of me and I broke down and texted Lela.

I knew I had violated my agreement with Samantha the second I sent it, but my arousal was severely affecting my judgment.

"What are you wearing, Lela?" seemed a fairly innocuous question, but it was a invitation for her to get into my head, and Lela seized it.

"How do you want me?" came the almost immediate response. "I am home and I have a very extensive wardrobe."

I should have immediately terminated the text exchange, apologized for my intrusive behavior, and carried on with my day. However, I was a red-blooded male, home alone with morning wood, so I took my chances.

"Surprise me!" I responded as my erection pulsated between my legs.

A few seconds later I received a high-resolution image of Lela dressed as a Schoolgirl, her hair tied into two long pigtails in an attempt to emphasize her youthful appearance. I hadn't seen enough of Lela recently to know if she still looked like this, but the photo was enough to get me over the edge. Using Apple AirPlay, I mirrored the seductive image to the large screen television in the bedroom, picked up Samantha's panties, and began to masturbate.

It was obvious by the speedy response that Lela hadn't actually changed into the Schoolgirl Uniform that the image depicted, but as I started down the road to my release, that didn't matter. Predictably, Lela upped the ante.

"Wanna FaceTime and jerk off for me?" Lela texted a few seconds later. "I can be dressed in my Schoolgirl Uniform in about ten minutes."

Truth be told I was tempted. Samantha would be tied up in court for most of the day, and I wasn't held to much of a schedule at work, as my trial research allowed me to work from home or the Law Library. However, in my current predicament, with a throbbing erection and Samantha's panties pressed to my nose, I simply increased the cadence of my strokes and stared intently at the image on my large television screen. I could hear my phone blowing up as Lela continued to text me, but I was too close to my climax to check my messages. At the last second, in an impromptu "fuck-you" to Samantha, I turned towards her side of the bed and I ejaculated across her pillow case.

It was an incredibly satisfying orgasm, made even more so by the lewd image of Lela that had provided me with some additional stimulation. However, as soon as I composed myself I knew I had fucked up, in more ways than one. My arousal had interfered with my decision-making ability, and I regretted reaching out to Lela, and blowing my load across my current girlfriend's expensive Egyptian-cotton pillow case.

Resigned to a late start in the office, I threw in a load of laundry and checked my phone. There were nine messages from Lela, offering herself up to me in a variety of ways, each with a lewd picture attached, as if I needed any further reminder of what a fucking slut she was.

Her final text, that included a photo of her impaled on her Sybian machine wearing that aforementioned Schoolgirl Uniform, read simply:

"We both know that I am a dirty CumSlut. Why don't you come over and use me this morning? I will do whatever it takes to rock your world."

I was in a compromised emotional state. I had fantasized about Samantha for years before getting into a relationship with her. I had screwed that up by allowing Lela to burrow back into my head, that toxic CumSlut negatively affecting my life on so many levels. Even with freshly-drained balls, I was still incapable of suppressing my urges, and as I perused the images of Lela on my iPhone, I was consumed with regret at my lost opportunities.

"I have a busy morning, Lela," I foolishly texted, thereby leaving the door wide open for her advances. "But thanks for the sexy photos! I needed that."

"How about this afternoon, Mark?" Lela responded eagerly. "Tell me what to wear and I will wait on my knees just inside the front door. You can bust a nut and leave. No pressure. No reciprocation required."

A wry smile crept across my face as the memories stirred from all those years ago. Lela and I often waited patiently on our knees by the door for John to come home. It was such an overt display of submission on our part, a clearly conveyed signal that we were available to cater to all of John's needs. Lela was now offering that to me, and my cock stirred in my pants at the thought of it. I briefly contemplated going to Lela's after lunch to avail myself of her sexual delights. Fortunately for me I quickly came to my senses, nipping the exchange in the bud with a final text.

"Busy week, Lela. Some other time perhaps?"

"Whatever works for you, Mark," Lela responded without a hint of irritation. "I am yours for the taking. However you desire."

Even though I had enjoyed a satisfying release, my arousal reared its ugly head later that day, and I had to fight my urges to get in the car and drive over to use the CumSlut. By this point in her life, Lela had become a manipulative cunt, and I am sure that she knew that she had got inside my head. Every hour or so she sent me a new image, increasing in depravity as she sought to push my buttons. I was erect all afternoon, but as it turned out the beneficiary would be Samantha.

I was attentive to Samantha from the moment she walked through our front door. I could tell from her body language and furrowed brow that she had endured a stressful day. I wasn't permitted to drink alcohol in her presence but I opened up an expensive bottle of Samantha's favorite vintage, and greeted her in the entrance hallway with a large glass of red wine. She seemed pleasantly surprised as I relieved her of her briefcase and suit jacket, and invited her to sit in one of the recliners in our living room. You could see the tension leave Samantha's body as she leaned back in the recliner and I knelt at her feet.

After she had taken a couple of sips of Bordeaux, I removed her high-heeled shoes and began to gently massage her feet, which elicited moans of pleasure from her.

"Tell me all about your day, baby," I said quietly, as I massaged her calves and feet.

As I knelt before her and listened to her unload her baggage it felt like old times. When our relationship was in its infancy I was the subordinate sexual partner, often pampering Samantha for several hours before it was time for reciprocation. I was so in awe of this beautiful, accomplished woman when we first dated, and was happy to fulfill her every need before we addressed mine. One glass of wine turned into three, and even though I was not imbibing alcohol, I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me as we seemed to forge a new connection.

Samantha poured her heart out to me as I knelt before her caressing her feet, and I simply listened, offering no judgment or insight as she questioned a life that was dominated by work. Samantha was on track to make partner at the law firm, a promotion that would have tripled her income and significantly reduced her work load. I knew that she had no plans to give up that opportunity, but occasionally women need to vent, so I remained passive as she did so.

Finally, with her senses numbed by the alcohol she let out a sigh of relief, and I got up from my knees at her feet.

"I am going to run you a nice warm bath and order sushi from your favorite restaurant," I said cheerfully, as Samantha began to yawn contentedly.

I completely pampered Samantha that night, washing her hair as she relaxed in her oversized jacuzzi tub, and sipped her wine. She stayed in the bath for well over an hour, as I soaped her from head to toe, using the gentlest of caresses. I moved my hands tenderly across her lithe form, eliciting moans of appreciation as her nipples hardened, and her breathing became more labored. The wine had lowered Samantha's inhibitions, and I watched on intently as she reached for her Gillette Venus razor and began to shave her pussy.

Emboldened by the alcohol, Samantha made no attempt to be discrete. When she got to her knees in the tub and spread her knees apart to wash away the shaving cream, I could see and smell the evidence of her arousal, as her vaginal secretions were all over her inner-thighs. By the time I retrieved two large towels from the heated towel rack she was starting to exhibit signs of fatigue, in addition to arousal. The heated floor was warm to the touch as she exited the bath, and I draped one large towel over her shoulders. Holding the other towel I sank to my knees to dry her legs and feet.

Whatever cumulative stress had been piled on her shoulders throughout the week seemed to have dissipated over the last two hours, and Samantha appeared to realign her priorities. Once her legs were dry I laid the towel over the side of the bath, which had now drained. Samantha flashed me an appreciative smile, dropped the towel that was draped across her shoulders and moved right into my personal space, so that her freshly-shaved pussy was less than an inch from my nose.

Taking her bold action as consent, I extended my tongue and brushed the tip of it across her labia. Samantha let out a moan of desire, and lowered her hands to her genitals. Spreading her labia lewdly apart she exposed her throbbing clitoris, and I began to lick it tenderly. During our time together Samantha had always favored a soft touch, but something changed that night, and without any attempt to secure my consent, she placed one hand on the back of my head, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and pulled me slowly backwards until I was lying on my back on the heated floor of the bathroom.

Then as I adjusted my position so that I was directly beneath her, Samantha lowered herself slowly to her knees and straddled my face. Samantha used me for her own enjoyment that night, in much the same way that Lela had invited me to use her for mine.

There wasn't much tenderness as Samantha ground out four or five orgasms on my face. Resting between each climax, her freshly-shaved pussy leaked a copious amount of vaginal secretions onto my lips, nose and chin. I remained passively beneath her until she was completely satisfied, and had composed herself.

Once she had gained control of her breathing, Samantha scooted forward a couple of inches, deliberately positioning the entrance to her asshole right above my mouth. I knew what she wanted even before she verbalized it, but the mere utterance of the words solidified her position of power, and I extended my tongue and began to eat her ass. Samantha had transferred most of her weight to her knees, and with both of her hands free she used one of them to hold me forcibly in place by my hair, while using the other hand to stimulate her clitoris. Samantha enjoyed two more very vocal orgasms before slumping forward as if to signal that she was done. I continued to lick her rosebud tenderly for several moments as she gathered herself.

Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, Samantha lifted her weight from my face and balancing herself on her knees, she reached for the silky panties that she had been wearing all day, and wiped them all over her well-lubricated pussy. Once they were slick with her vaginal secretions, she stood up slowly and allowed me to view the crotch, which was glistening with her juices.

"Thanks, Mark," she said appreciatively. "As you can see, I really needed that."

"Are you going to bed now, Samantha?" I asked, my sexual frustration evident in my voice.

I could see a look of contempt on her face as she formulated her response, and the tone of her voice left me no doubt that she viewed me as less than herself.

"Why don't you take a shower, Mark," Samantha said coldly. "I am going to leave my soiled panties on the countertop and wait for you in bed. What happens next is up to you. It's decision time."

I knew that my relationship with Samantha was doomed at that exact moment, and even though we dragged it out for a few more months, Samantha reverted to the same selfish, one-sided sexual arrangement that she had favored with John. From that night forward, our sexual encounters were all about meeting her needs, and after she was satiated, Samantha would toss me her soiled panties with a look of complete disdain. I completely understood that she harbored some resentment towards me for forcibly sodomizing her, but instead of doing the right thing and cutting me loose, she kept me around as her fuck-toy, continually pushing my limits with her increasingly selfish behavior.

I was in shock as Samantha exited the bathroom, and I was left on my back with her vaginal secretions all over my face. Once I got to my feet, I entered the oversized shower enclosure, and I took a long hot shower. When I emerged I noticed that Samantha had placed two large towels on the heated rack just outside the shower enclosure, which struck me as a considerate gesture. As promised, her wet panties were on the countertop, carefully positioned in such a way that the slick crotch was visible. Next to the soiled intimates was Samantha's leather harness with a medium-sized phallus already attached. Judging by the shiny tip, Samantha had already lubed it up, and there was a small tube of Anal-Ease resting on the countertop.

As her final words reverberated around in my head, I understood the significance of "decision time" and knew that we had reached a critical point in our relationship. I had spent the last three hours completely pampering this woman, and yet it appeared that her sole focus was to bend me over something and fuck my ass. A more assertive man would have exited the bathroom angrily, manhandled Samantha into his desired position, and fucked the crap out of her before bedtime. However, partly because I was a pussy, and partly because I deeply regretted my sexual assault of Samantha, I hid in the bathroom until she fell asleep.

I couldn't stop looking at her soiled panties either, which did little to suppress my libido. Finally, after a prolonged period of silence, I performed a cursory check of the bedroom during which I ascertained Samantha was fast asleep. Returning to the bathroom, I gave my girlfriend's panties a quick sniff, and decided that I needed to jerk off before bedtime.

I was in an elevated state of arousal, and despite having imbibed zero alcohol, my decision-making ability was definitely impaired. At least this is what I told myself when I attempted to justify why I texted Lela that night.

Lela responded immediately with a lewd picture of her fellating a huge black dildo, and an invitation to FaceTime her. I knew I was taking unnecessary risks by doing so, but I was so aroused and Samantha was fast asleep. So against my better judgement I locked the bathroom door, switched on the extractor fan, and called Lela rather than using FaceTime. We ended up chatting in hushed tones for about thirty minutes. Lela asked me directly if I was planning to masturbate during our call, and once I admitted that this was my intention, she skillfully coaxed two orgasms out of me.

Choosing her words carefully, Lela alternated between a detailed description of what delights were available to me if I decided to stop by her new apartment, and an equally descriptive explanation of how John enjoys his regular visits with her. Even years after John had stopped dominating me, it still excited me to hear about his treatment of my ex-girlfriend. Lela was very colorful in her choice of words, and I blew my first load into Samantha's panties as Lela taunted me about John's sexual prowess.

"Yeah Mark," Lela said enthusiastically, as I emptied my nuts into the crotch of Samantha's panties. "Blow your load baby."

I typically lose interest right after I ejaculate but Lela never let up, and as I composed myself she started taunting me about John's short refractory period.

"Sometimes when John butt-fucks me he doesn't even withdraw after he comes," Lela teased. "A few minutes later I feel his cock start to twitch and I know he is on the road to recovery. It is quite impressive to watch."