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Switch

By: rockbohunk



Linda and Rick had been together for just a few months. In act, it was there four month anniversary. They were not what you call astrologically compatible, but still there was chemistry. 

Rick, being a Capricorn, was a Dominant. A Harley riding fifty-one year old Bohemian. 

Linda on the other hand, well, let's just say that she was a Sagittarius. Linda was no submissive. She was intelligent, in her early forties and owned her own Harley. 

To celebrate their anniversary, they decided to go out and eat at Linda's favorite Mexican restaurant. The restaurant was dimly lit and satin their favorite corner booth. After a couple margarita's, the soft kisses were becoming more and more passionate and Rick's fingers were finding their way up the inside of Linda's inner thigh. 

Linda quivered as his fingers touched her bare skin above her stockings, but didn't resist. She only spread her legs wider letting Rick touch the edge of her panties. 

"Take them off," Rick said as he rubbed between her legs.

"Here?" Linda asked as she looked into his eyes.

"I need to feel and taste your wetness. Nobody can see us here in the corner. Just imagine my finger sliding in and out of you as people sit all around us."

It was against her better judgment and anything that she had ever done before, but just the thought made her wet. 

Rick pinched the inside of her upper thigh as he kissed her deeply. "I love ya babe...take them off."

Linda looked around for anyone that could possibly see her. The few people that were around her were preoccupied with their company and eating. She looked at Rick hesitantly, "How about if I go to the bathroom and take them off?"

Rick pulled her panties to the side and brushed her labia, "Take them off now,"

With Rick's forcefulness, Linda clamped her legs down on his hand and grabbed his arm. "Okay," she whispered as she pulled his hand from between her legs.

Trying to be discrete, Linda raised her skirt a little and tugged at her panties. Her heart raced as she looked around for anybody that could possible catch what she was doing. Once past the edge of the booth seat, Linda hurriedly pulled them past her knees allowing them to drop around her ankles. 

Rick reached down and untangled them from her heels and laid them on the seat between them. "That's hot. You are making me so hard."

Linda reached over and put her hand between Rick's legs. She felt that he indeed was very hard as she grabbed his bulge.

Rick wasted no time pulling Linda's knees apart and replacing his hand deep between her legs. Both tried to act casual as they touched each other in public.

Rick changed positions slightly and withdrew his hand, "I want to make you cum." 

He pulled up her dress a little more and changing hands, he reached deep between her legs touching her labia, Linda scooted down in the booth and spread her legs even more giving Rick full access to wetness.

"Hmmm, are we wet?"

Before Linda could even answer, Rick inserted a finger deep inside of her. Linda squeezed Rick's cock even harder and kissed his passionately. 

Rick continued to finger her soaking wet pussy slowly as she tried to maintain. She couldn't believe that she was even doing this. She sipped on her margarita looking around nervously.

Linda began stroking Rick's hard cock through his pants until he added a finger and wiggled then deep inside. She could only squeeze his cock hard and grab the table with her other hand.

"No," Linda whispered as he pulled his fingers from her slowly. He raised them to her lips rubbing her juices softly until she tasted, then sucked her wetness from them. 

Rick replaced his fingers, probing, pulling her lips apart until three fingers spread her open. He kissed her, stopping her from crying out, then began to finger fuck her relentlessly.

"Can I get you anything else?" The waitress asked appearing from nowhere.

The waitress interrupted the kiss, but Rick continued fingering her hard. Linda squirmed and could feel herself starting to cum. She could feel her clit being rubbed, her pussy being punished and the sucking sound of Rick's fingers stroking in and out of her while the waitress watched was just too much.

"Noooo..." Linda said loudly as she shook and quivered from the release.

Rick could feel the squirt on his finger inside of her. He looked at the waitress and smiled. "I think we're good, thanks."

The waitress smiled at the two of them as she laid the check on the table near Rick. "You two have a great evening."

As the waitress left, Rick slowly removed his fingers and licked her juices from his them. He softly kissed Linda to share how heavenly she tasted. With what had just transpired, it was time to call it a night and retire to more familiar settings.

Upon arriving at home, Linda went to use the bathroom while Rick lit the candles in the bedroom. He quickly undressed down to his boxer/briefs and waited for Linda's return in bed. 

As Linda returned from the bathroom, she removed her dress and stood there wearing nothing but her black thigh high stockings. "Do you want me"? 

"Oh yes, " Rick said. "Come here baby, "

Linda climbed into bed and straddled Rick. She bent over and kissed him passionately, then whispered, "Do you love me, " she asked. 

"I love you very much, " he replied. 

Linda again kissed Rick and asked, "Do you trust me?"

Rick looked into her eyes. "With my life." 

Linda reached over to the night stand and removed a pair of novelty hand cuffs. "Just relax and trust me, " 

She guided Rick's arms above his head and hand cuffed his two wrists together. Linda then tied the cuffs to the headboard leaving Rick's arms defenseless. 

This was truly a change of events for Rick, He had never been in this compromising position. He was always in control.

Linda kissed Rick again, then climbed off of him and out of bed. Rick watched her every move, her long blond hair, her five foot two inch perfect frame. The way she moved in the reflections of the candle light. 

"Do you like it when I touch myself, " she asked as she touched her perfect 38C breasts. 

"Yes, " Rick replied. 

"You must, " she giggled. "I see your cock is getting harder. "I bet that you want me to suck it, don't you?" 

"Yes, oh yes, suck my cock." 

Linda grabbed his cock through his underwear and began to stroke it slowly, then stopped. She tugged on his underwear a little at a time. Rick raised his ass to help her until he lay there completely naked. "That's better."

Linda again reached into the night stand and pulled out some cotton rope. "Just how long have you been contemplating this?" Rick asked. 

Linda smiled, then giggled, "Just a little while." 

She walked to the foot of the bed and began to tie Rick's ankles to the frame of the bed. Rick watched Linda struggle with the knots nervously, yet it still turned him on watching her take control. 

As Linda finished securing her hostage, she knelt on the bed and lowered her mouth to Rick's throbbing cock. She teased the head of his manhood with her tongue and then gazed up at Rick for his approval. 

Linda crawled over him and straddled his body. Rick could feel the heat of her body as her pussy rubbed against the head of his cock. Linda then leaned forward brushing her firm tits against his body, then kissed him deeply using her tongue to tease him even more.

Linda reached back and grabbed him hard, "You want his thing in my wet pussy?" 

"Oh, fuck, yes, " Rick whispered as he struggled with his restraints. 

"Not yet, " Linda said softly, repositioning herself in the sixty-nine position. "I want to taste you." Rick said. 

"Like I am going to taste you?" She asked. Linda then licked his pre-cum off the tip of his cock.

Rick's breathing became erratic watching Linda rub her beautiful wet pussy. He lips were only inches away from his awaiting tongue. He watched as she spread her lips showing off her pinkness. The smell of her wet perfume overwhelmed him as Linda took him entirely into her hot mouth for the first time. 

She released his cock from her hot mouth, "I don't want you to cum yet, " Linda said as she climbed off of Rick and out of bed. He watched her again go to her favorite drawer. "This cock ring should slow you down." 

Linda put the rubber ring around the head of his cock, then rolled in down in place. She then climbed on the bed, standing over Rick. then straddle his cock. She lowered herself slowly until the head of Rick's throbbing cock parted her wet lips. 

She kissed Rick passionately as she lowered herself completely, grinding hard while he took in the pure pleasure of her being. With the kiss, he could feel Linda lifting off of him until he slid completely out. 

Linda turned around and lowered herself over Rick's face. "Do you want to tongue fuck me?' 

Before Rick could even answer, Linda grabbed his cock hard, "You better make me cum!" 

Linda positioned herself carefully over Rick allowing him to take full advantage of her swollen clit. Rick lapped up Linda's juices. He had never seen her this wet before. Her lips were swollen and she tasted exquisitely. Linda started moaning as he sucked on her labia, then her clit. She hung on to Rick's cock hard, stroking it intermittently as she ground her pussy hard on his face. 

"I'm gonna cum.... yes, yes, ooooooh, fuck, YES!" Linda cried out as she squirted all over Rick's face.

Rick licked up what he could, then caught his breath as Linda raised up and leaned forward to reach the knots that restrained Rick's ankles. He watched her perfect ass high in the air as he felt some relief from the ropes. 

Linda turned around, then straddled Rick again. She grabbed his cock and guided it into her awaiting moistness. She settled down completely, then leaned forward laying her hot body onto his. Linda reach Rick's cuffs and struggled with the locks. Finally, Rick was free. 

Rick grabbed Linda and rolled her over to change the authority. He kissed Linda on the neck and ears as he took long strong strokes. He had never remembered being this hard. He raised up to watch as he slid in and out of her wet little pussy. Rick fucked Linda faster and faster until he collapsed unto her and ground his cock deep within her. 

Linda arched her back and dug her nails into Rick as he tried to last longer. Within seconds, She felt the spasms of Rick's cock deep within her as he collapsed on top of her. The sounds of their hearts hammered as they both tried to catch their breath.

Rick lay there, exhausted. As he tightened his muscles, wiggling his cock still inside, Linda matched every move by constricting her muscles around his cock.

"Happy anniversary babe." 

This night wasn't over, not yet, and for the thought of Rick being a Dominant? Well, maybe there is a little submissive in all of us.

Switch



He watched my chest heaving with each breath, breasts bobbing up and down in my tight black corset. I was dressed entirely in tight black leather, and the heady aroma of our juices, sweat and leather filled the air. I licked my lips as I stood before his bound and captive body, laughing devilishly to myself as I replayed tonight's events in my mind. 

I looked him over from top to bottom as he knelt captive before me. I smiled as I noticed that one bit of hair that always stood out in the opposite direction of the others. That was one thing I loved about him -- even my perfect pet had this one small imperfection that made him real. "Him and his perfect imperfection were mine, all mine," I thought as my eyes continued to wander down to his eyes, staring at the ground, his head bowed like a good little slave.

I stared longingly into the red and pink of his luscious apple lips and licked my own as my eyes continued to make their way down his muscular figure. "What an incredible body he has!" I thought to myself as my eyes traced the lines on his muscular chest. 

Going lower down, came sheer heaven (or hell, all depending on my mood). My precious gem, already glistening with a drop of precum as my slave's vivid imagination wondered to what I might have planned. He was already hard, and that cock ring must have been at least a slight bit tight by now, but things would get worse later! My prize stood out, almost at attention, to greet my gaze. I rewarded the gesture as I licked the pearly droplets from its tip. I love driving my slave crazy like that!

And then, it was my fingers' turn. I walked around my slave and gently rubbed his wrists above and below the tight leather cuffs that held them beautifully in the center of his back. And I licked at them. I couldn't resist the first taste of fresh leather, and I couldn't resist the taste of his soft skin. 

I licked a careful circle above and below the cuffs and then blew a stream of cool air around his hands. Oh, the glorious goose bumps that I gave him then, as I took his little pinky into my mouth. I sucked on it gently, at first, and then grew harder, moving my tongue around it in little circles and swirling it in my mouth. Even his tiny pinky finger was long and tasty. 

I pulled his pinky-finger out through my sucking lips and took in his ring-finger in its place. I licked and sucked at this tasty appendage, as I had the last. And I focused special attention on his class ring. It was big and manly, silver with a blue stone -- his birth stone. Engraved into the stone were my initials, and in each of the gold facets was a heart. It was a very special thing he had done for me, even before I was his mistress. I was just his girlfriend then, no different from any other high school sweetheart; and, yet, it was me he chose to memorialize on his finger. I sucked at the ring finger and spun the silver band around with my tongue.

I sucked delicately on this fingertip then, and removed it, replacing it with the next - the middle finger. This had always had a special place in our relationship as "the fucking finger". This was the part of him that always, without fail, brought me pleasure - no matter what position we were in or how he was bound, he always managed that his finger would find its way to my clit and would gently circle my most sensitive skin. I loved this finger and paid it special attention with my tongue. 

I took the next finger into my mouth - the pointer finger - or, as I preferred, the finger-fucking finger. This was always the first finger to go in either hole. It was the finger whose job was the hardest - to make up for its lack of fullness with motion. My tongue mimicked this finger's motions along its very own skin. Where this finger would have turned and rubbed and pushed gently inside of me, my tongue turned and rubbed and pushed along its length.

Finally, came the thumb. The thumb is the only finger which I use teeth on. My tongue and my lips suck and pull on it, as I have the others, and then my tongue, darting over it, brings it to softly brush across my teeth. I am not biting into it, just gently running my teeth across his skin, teasing his finger with pleasure and circling, swirling my mouth around this most manly of his fingers. His thumb is rough and well used, but I suck it soft. And then I pull at it gently with my tongue and my teeth. I pinch it gently between my jaws and hold it, playing with it with my lips and with my smile.

And then I pull it from my mouth, grazing it harshly across my teeth, and take the other hand. All is the same there; except the ring. In place of the class ring, on this other hand, he wears the service ring I have given him. It is splotched in shades of green and blue and is a solid band, lined in silver. It bears the word "Master", a symbol of my service to him. He serves me as slave, and I serve him as fuck slut. The ring upon my finger, engraved with Mistress, matches the fuck slut collar around my neck. The ring around his matches his slave collar. In fact, our collars and rings match, the pink and maroon of mine replacing the blue and green of his, the lining of mine in gold. We are two switches and this is our world of domination, submission, and love inter-mixed. 

But now it is my moment to dominate him, to own him, to control him. With that, I take his other pinky into my mouth and give him finger-head one finger at a time, just as I had his other hand. By the time I am finished, he is fully erect (or as erect as his cock ring would let him be) and is whimpering softly, moaning like a little puppy dog, desperate for release. But he would get none or not yet, at least.

I walked back around to his front and ran my fingers through his dark brown hair. That is truly a sign of his submission to me... The ability for me to touch his hair and to move it in any direction I choose, to play with it, to feel it, and to control it. This may not seem like much, but to us it is a symbol. He is one of those guys who is very hair conscious and doesn't let anyone touch his hair. It always has to be "perfect". But, I love the little imperfections he lets me bring to it. This is the nature of his submission to me.

Then my fingers reach his shoulders and gently massage the knots from his neck. My submissive side is showing, I suppose. I want to please him because it gives me pleasure. Tonight is definitely all about my pleasure. And kneading his sore muscles brings us both pleasures. Then, I look deep into his eyes and kiss him.

Usually, his tongue is all over my mouth, but tonight, I am in control. Complete control -- of everything -- even that. When he tries to bring his tongue into my mouth, I pull away from him and pull his head back with his hair. I just look at him, helpless before me. And he hides his eyes. And then I lean in and kiss him. We kiss open mouthed, with no tongue. I know how much he wants to taste the inside of my mouth, but this is just a tease. With that, I run my tongue across the outside of his lips and taste him. I taste him, where he cannot taste me, yet.

"But our evening of fun is just beginning," I think to myself as I plant a line of kisses along his chin. I lick around the outside of his lips and suck above and below them and on either side, allowing my tongue and my lips to caress his sweet skin.

I slowly make my way with the trail of kisses along his neck and softly nibble on his soft skin. I reach the gap between his neck and shoulder and run my tongue across it. And then, I slowly, softly, tenderly bite into his flesh. The colors of pink and purple and red delight me as my tongue and lips dance across his skin - pulling, nibbling, and sucking. And then, tortuously slowly, I made my way across his shoulder and down his arm, kissing and sucking at his sensitive spots. When I reached his wrist, I again licked around those dark cuffs and began to make my way up his other arm in an equally slow and teasing fashion.

I had finally returned to his shoulder. I looked deep into his eyes and licked my lips and then his. I pulled his tongue into my mouth and sucked on it, pulling on it with the suction of my mouth. And I teased his tongue with my mouth and ran my tongue across his sweet lips. Staring into his eyes, I bent my head down and kissed him just above his cock. I flicked my tongue along the sensitive skin between his hips but avoided his jutting gem altogether. Such a tease I was, but I loved being one.

Then I began another trail along his body, but it was a more random one this time. I darted across his stomach, along his ribs, inside his belly button, on his tight abs, up his shoulders. I left a trail of kisses, licks, and nibbles everywhere I went. His body was mine and I was having fun savoring every inch of it. Apparently he was having fun, too, as I could tell from his moans and purrs as my trail continued its sensuous pattern.

When my lips had touched every inch of his stomach, chest, and upper body, I left a soft, sweet kiss on each shoulder blade. I kissed his elbows, sucking on each for a second or two. And then I reached his bound wrists again. With my mouth, I undid the cuffs and began to lick a path along where they had been. With my mouth I caressed the pinked flesh where the bands had left marks on his wrists. My lips left kisses on the edges of his bones, and along his hands and fingers. Delicately, I kissed each fingertip. And then I took his hands in mine and held them tightly.

I kissed each of his tender nipples and bit gently on them with my teeth. I writhed and moaned, begging for more. And so I gave it to him, slowly kissing my way down his happy trail - the line of hair from his belly button to his pleasure button (more of a pleasure lever than a button, really). I licked his happy trail with one long flick of my tongue, touching every patch of skin along the way with my wet mouth and warm lips. And then, I finally, I licked his manhood - just one flick of my tongue across the base of his cock drove him wild. He moaned and squirmed and begged me for more.

And so, teasingly slow, I began to oblige. I first flicked my tongue across the middle of his shaft. Then I sucked on just the base of his cock, licking little lines around his cock ring. This was gloriously fun for me and torturously pleasurable for him. Next, I slowly lick circles around his cock head, running my tongue in lines up and down his hard shaft. He is squirming and writhing and moaning, but still I go drag my warm, wet tongue ever so slowly across his cock, teasing and torturing him with glorious pleasure.

His engorged cock is huge inside my tight mouth. And he is moaning loudly as my tongue slides along his manhood. Then, suddenly I stop and look devilishly up at him. He is more aroused and more frustrated than he has ever been, all in that one single instant. I will let him cum tonight!

But not quite yet! I smile at him and lean back down towards his cock. But I stop just millimeters above it. Stretching my tongue to its fullest, I barely lick at the tip jutting prize, tasting the droplets of pearly pre-cum in front of me. I lean in closer by a microscopic amount and graze his penis with the very tip of my tongue, teasing it with my slow torturous pleasure.

And then, I move closer and begin licking and sucking in earnest at the area just above his pubic hair. It is as if I am giving him head - my head bobbing up and down above him, my tongue running across his skin, and my lips sucking on him deeply - but I'm not sucking where he wants, but agonizingly close to there. I slowly trail my tongue up his chest and bite gently at his nipples. Oh my precious slave, you are in for torturous pleasure tonight! 

I looked up at him and kissed him hard on the mouth and nodded. That meant it was ok. His tongue entered my mouth in frantic exploration, seeking out my tongue as it circled around his own, engaging it in an erotic tongue tug-of-war. Still kissing him, I reached back and undid his cuffs, gently massaging feeling back into his precious limbs. Slowly, I was giving him more and more freedom and control; slowly I was letting power slip away from me - bit by bit by bit. But no matter what happened, I was in control. With that thought in mind, I bit gently down on his tongue and pulled my head back, stretching his, pulling it from his mouth gently.

My eyes glistened as the light caught them. And his shown like diamonds in the rough. His eyes shone bright and multicolored. Staring into them fascinated me. It was part of what had attracted me to him in the first place. I could lose myself in those eyes. Pools of color, patterned with lines and pictures. His eyes were incredible. Staring into them, I could almost see his devotion to me, see the depth of his submission. I loved watching his soul dance in his eyes. I could see fire in his eyes. It was pure lust.. true love.. complete submission.. and total domination.. all at once! "This was what was so incredible about him," I thought to myself, knowing my eyes mirrored his.

I ran my fingertips across his shoulders and gently dragged my nails down his ribcage and over his chest. He let out gurgled moans. I smiled at him and growled, playfully, before nibbling at the crevice in his shoulder. As my tongue slid along the crevice and my lips sucked and pulled on the soft skin there, I began to gently pull at his nipples with my thumb and forefinger, gently twisting them into little pointy knobs. This was driving him crazy. And, the thing was, it was driving me crazy, too. Watching him squirm and hearing him moan and beg was pushing me towards the edge. 

I pulled up the bottom of my black leather skirt so that he could see just the very bottom of my cunt. I wasn't wearing any panties. I teased him by teasing myself as I flicked a finger across my clit, running it along my wet slit. I straddled him and sat there inches above his hard cock, touching myself. As my fingers toyed with my moist flesh, I gently brushed against the head of his cock with my thumb, teasing it - and him - to the extreme. I inserted a finger deep inside of me and, removing it, brought it to his lips to taste. He eagerly sucked my juices from my finger. And then, back I went to my pussy, filling my hole with two fingers this time. I thrust them in and out of me, running my thumb along his shaft as I worked myself slowly towards the waves of pleasure that would overtake my body.

I withdrew my fingers and again brought them to his mouth. He eagerly accepted both into his lips, sucking on them and slurping every bit of my wetness from my fingertips. I drew back and put my fingers back to work on my slit. I ran my thumb across my clit and inserted three fingers into my dripping hole. He could feel my juices running down onto his hard cock. This time, I ran my pinky along his cock-head. This was the ultimate torture - barely touching, totally teasing him with my power...my closeness...my body.

Three fingers slid in and out of me eagerly. Faster and faster, I thrust them inside of me and withdrew them again. My body rocked, humping my fingers as they buried themselves deep inside. He was watching me, eyes wide with desire, body rocking with lust, lips curled with pleasure, and cock hard with anticipation.

I slid my fingers out of me, licking them myself this time. And then, I began to play with his balls, running my thumb along them as I held them in the palm of my hand and gently, barely squeezed. I looked up at him, lifted my body up, and dropped myself down, impaling myself upon him. We moaned together in unison. Slowly, almost too slowly, I began to pump my body up and down, picking myself up off of his shafts and ten dropping down, impaling myself on him. Over and over, I repeated this process with increasing fury and speed. "Don't cum until I give you permission, slut!" I commanded him.

And with that, I began to furiously pound my body up and down along his cock. Hard and fast, I continued to impale myself on his cock. I could feel him about ready to explode.. "Not yet, slave." I said with an evil grin. My hands began to play with my nipples, twisting and pulling, as I rocked rapidly on his cock. I leaned forward and bit down into his neck (gently of course) as I came. My pussy walls clamping on his cock as I continued to pound him into me, he squirmed and moaned and begged and pleaded for release. "Now slave. Cum for me.." I said, moaning and screaming s my body shook with waves of orgasm. 

Hot jets of cum spurted out of him and rushed up inside of me. He moaned and screamed as I thrashed, still taken by the throes of my own orgasm. We came together as I rocked up and down on his cock.

And then, when we both had finished cumming, I looked up at him and kissed him on the lips. Softly and gently we caressed each other as I cast my eyes downward. I had enjoyed my evening as queen. And he had, too. "One of many.." we thought as we cuddled and held each other close. Softly, our fingers touched each others' skin and softly, our lips met in a gently kiss, our arms tangled in a sweet embrace. We lay there, loving each other and holding each other close, just relaxing in each others' arms. And then, safe in his arms, comforted by his presence, I fell asleep.



Switch



Devon Lane was a school teacher. She taught Special Education at the elementary level. She was good at her job. She managed her classroom well, managed her children's behaviors well. She handed in all her paperwork on time. She was enthusiastic and emphatic when in front of her students. Her students liked being in her class. She came up with fun activities that had to do with the stories they were reading or what they were studying in math. The students came to her with their problems. One student told her about his dad's girlfriend who had a restraining order against the dad, and the girlfriend came back to visit and made her promise not to tell anyone. Another girl told Ms. Lane that her parents forgot to celebrate her birthday one day when she came in wearing a dirty shirt. At times, a brother and sister who were in the same grade because the brother was held back a grade would come in late to school and missed breakfast. Ms. Lane would always keep a stash of granola bars for them to eat outside the classroom doors so no one could see. Ms. Lane demonstrated care, empathy, and discretion when dealing with these problems, sometimes referring them to the student services office, however, if other agencies, such as the Department of Health, needed to step in. All in all, Devon Lane demonstrated superior control over her environment at work.

At home she lived alone. She worked out every day no matter what. There were days when she was feeling upset, and she biked on her stationary bike through sobbing tears, but Devon had control over her emotions and she wouldn't let them get in the way of her control over her body. Devon also exercised control over her diet, she ate a high protein, high fiber diet that was low in fat, sugar, processed foods, and generally anything bad. It was extremely restrictive. But for Devon it was easy as pie to follow. And she reaped the benefits. She had long blond hair that fell in thick curling locks down to her size zero waist. She had muscular legs and an overall athletic and lean body with the exception of her suspiciously large breasts. People occasionally asked her if they were "fake." Devon always eluded an answer. How would a school teacher, in the middle of nowhere South Dakota, afford plastic surgery anyway? For some reason she liked that people were talking about her behind her back. And although Ms. Lane was humble and didn't think much of herself, she did fantasize about the possibility of being that hot school teacher, the one high school boys fantasized about, the one other teachers whispered about, secretly hated.

Restriction and control were like second nature to Devon. Devon was a successful, strong willed woman. In every aspect of her life, Devon, Ms. Lane, was in full control. Her classroom was a tight schedule of rituals and routines. Her home life was the same. She was single. She would come home, work out for about an hour or an hour and a half, eat dinner, watch TV while grading homework and go to bed. Devon thrived in this structure but she began to wish for a little something extra with which to fill her time. And that is how she came across Argentine Tango lessons in the newspaper. Dance required discipline and step by step structure. At its more advanced levels it might be quite athletic, she imagined. It was perfect. 

The lessons were being offered at the local community center and weren't expensive. They were at 7:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The ad said to bring a partner if you have one, but it wasn't required. Devon didn't have a partner and she went anyway. She put on a black dress that wrapped around her tiny body and tied across the waist and some black heels. That seemed appropriate. When she got there, there were all sorts of people there, as one might expect at a community center, but not as Devon expected from a Tango class. There were grotesquely tall people, fat people, old people. Was Devon going to have to dance with all these people? And not a single woman was in a pair of heels. They were all in bare feet, or stocking-ed feet, mingling before the instructor came in. Devon felt completely left out, in her shoes, not knowing who to talk to. She stood on the outskirts of everyone and noticed a man standing awkwardly on the outskirts as well, the other sides of the outskirts. Although Devon exercised superior control over every aspect of her life, although by every measurement Devon looked like a porn star, although Devon always presented herself well and always offered up good conversation and clever jokes, Devon was self-doubting. She was shy. It took a lot of nerve for her to walk up to someone new and strike up a conversation. Especially if she had to walk across an entire dance floor in a room full of women not wearing any shoes, in a room full of people she didn't know. But Devon took a deep breath and walked over to this other "other," this other outlier. 

"So, what's with all the bare feet?" she asked him.

"Oh. They just take off their shoes because it's easier to balance that way. If they loose their balance slightly, they can always roll down to flat feet instead of falling over," the awkward man responded. Devon felt a sense of pride. She had taken ballet from pre-school all the way through high school. She knew how to balance her body, how to imagine a string being pulled up through her spine and through her skull as if she were hanging from it. It's how she learned to walk in heels. She decided she would leave her heels on.

"Devon Lane," she said, extending her hand.

"Mark Bishop." They shook hands. The man looked forward to continue waiting for the instructor, who was five minutes late at this point. He was avoiding Devon's glance. She took his look away as an invitation to look him over which undoubtedly made the poor man feel more uncomfortable. He was very tall, well over six feet. He had thick wavy blond hair that was punctuated with brown streaks. It was cut in a longish haircut. Very inviting, Devon thought. He was slender but strong seeming. Devon was sure he could lift all one hundred and fifteen pounds of her. She hoped she could get to the lifting phase of this dance class soon. The awkward man had a slender waist made more prominently evident by his contrastingly colored belt. Devon found herself very attracted to this man's features, including his awkward, shy side. Her controlling personality wanted to possess him. She was certain she wanted to dance with him but she didn't know how the class was structured. Was she going to have to dance with every guy? Was the instructor going to choose someone of a more suitable height for her? Devon realized that her looking had turned into staring and she turned her glance in the direction of Mark's. Finally the dance instructor walked in.

"Okay dancers! Are we ready?" He was about halfway between five and six feet. He wore loose fitting black slacks with a belt and a loose fitting silk blouse tucked neatly into his belted pants. He walked with his hips leading each step, as if he were fucking someone with each stride. A walk reserved only for effeminate gay men and, apparently, dance instructors. With the look he gave Devon on his way in he was most certainly not gay. He had an accent Devon couldn't place, possibly Russian but not quite. He noted her heels. "We have a brave newcomer today! What's your name?"

"Devon."

"Okay. You'll be dancing with me today. I'll teach you the basic step, and once you get the hang of it you can dance with...Mark. Mark has been with us for four years. He got off to a rocky start but now he's very well practiced. He'll take good care of you," said the instructor.

"No offense, but I don't need anyone to 'take care' of me. I just want to learn how to dance," Devon said, deeply offended.

"All right then," said the instructor, humoring Devon, "Let's get started." He walked over to the stereo and, turning on some very old fashioned tango music, he addressed the whole class. "I want to see nothing but the basic step for this song. No embellishments, nothing. Just perfect balance, perfect control, perfect communication between partners." Everyone seemed to know who to partner up with and got started. The instructor began showing Devon the basic step and after the first demonstration she followed along with him, in her heels and they danced side by side.

"You've danced before," he said.

"Yes, ballet."

"That's why you're not afraid of a pair of heels," laughed the instructor. And they did the female's, the follower's, basic step side by side a few times to the music until Devon was ready to do it partnered up. "Now, you know what to do, you know the basic step, but as your partner, as your leader, I'm going to tell you what to do." This didn't sit well with Devon. No one told her what to do except for maybe her principal, and he even had the right mind not to bug her too much. "And this is how I'm going to do it." The instructor grabbed Devon's waist with his right hand and held her right hand with his left. "When I want you to step forward I'm going to step back. You are not to start stepping forward until I step back. This is how we communicate. Understand?" Devon shook her head. She understood but didn't like it one bit. "When I want you to step forward and to the left I will push on your back with the back of my wrist and press on your hand like this. I will move my shoulders this way." The instructor made the series of slight gestures and Devon produced the beautiful step forward, swinging her dress up, arching her foot in the leg that wasn't bearing any weight, turning her head away from the instructor to show her displeasure in her having to follow him. This whole follower/leader arrangement went against everything Devon stood for as an independent woman. Then again, Devon thought, she was so independent she was alone. The one friend she had was female and lived thousands of miles away and she hadn't had a date in an embarrassing amount of time. This leader/follower business all did make her look quite beautiful.

"I see you have some attitude. I like it! Let's try that step again, but I want you to embellish it. As your right leg passes your left, let your right ankle criss cross your left one a few times, like this, before you put your right foot down. But don't do it until you feel me gesturing you to do so. Let's walk through the whole basic step together." Devon did as she was told, she waited for the instructor to make the first movement, she followed all his gestures, she criss crossed her ankles, she slid her feet together, he spun her around. The instructor was a show off. His gestures, to her, seemed harsh and almost sloppy; they were overemphatic. It became clear that he was used to dancing with inexperienced women, fat women, sloppy women, women who weren't attuned to slight details, a minor flick of the wrist, a slight increase in pressure on the lower back. The instructor dipped her, dragged her across the floor, showed off the elaborate moves he could pull off with the newbie. All the while Devon wanted to be a good dancer because she had always been a good dancer, she had always been good at everything she tried. So even though it went against every grain in her body to follow, to be the follower and not the leader, she did it, all the while playing the part of the pissed off woman, walking away, in a sexy way, to the rhythm of the music of course, a few steps at one point, turning her head to the side when things got too close, staying poised and in control of her body. Finally the instructor realized he needed to attend to the rest of the class and was being a bit too flashy. He paired her with Mark and Devon breathed a sigh of relief. 

Mark was wholly a different dancer. The instructor told her he had gotten off to a rough start but, Devon extrapolated, through years of dedicated practice he became a fantastic leader. He was most certainly too tall for Devon but his leading abilities made up for it. His gestures were far more subtle. He pressed on different parts of Devon's back, surprising Devon with the movements this created in her. He flicked her hand gently, and Devon was able to carefully and in a controlled manner slide into new positions. He was much less of a show off and much more in sync with Hannah's personality, it seemed. His gestures pressed her into careful, precise, controlled movements, movements she liked. She liked following Mark. With the right leader, Devon was a good follower.

With the right leader Devon was a good follower. This thought confused Devon. This was a side of herself she wasn't familiar with. It really threw her off guard that she enjoyed so much something that required her to follow and not lead. These thoughts circled through her head over and over again and Devon tried to make sense of them, tried to make sense of these conflicting drives to be a leader in the workplace, but come 7:30 on Tuesday and Thursday nights, oh God did she want to follow and to be led. Devon decided to go back to Tango. She melted in Mark's arms and as he became her usual partner she got to know him better and better. He had a wife at home who had no interest in dance. He led her to embellish her movements more and more and Hannah became an exemplary Tango dancer. The instructor often called upon them to demonstrate new movement combinations to the class and even encouraged them to enter a few competitions.

For now, Mark was that right leader. He was so perceptive of Devon's needs. It was as if she weren't following at all with him because he was so attuned to her needs. He led her to create such careful, controlled and, of course, beautiful movements. Together they looked spectacular, perfectly in sync. Devon asked Mark about his home life nonchalantly on several occasions but he always brushed her off. His wife was always fine. His kid was always playing baseball. That was the end of that. Mark was suave on the dance floor through years of practice, but those years of practice didn't translate into the rest of his life. Off the floor he was awkward. He walked with an irregular gait, moving his legs hesitantly, as if insecure about each and every step he took. He slouched no doubt to make up for his tall stature, something he ought to have known was considered a desirable feature. His conversations were always short, that is to say, he was always short in conversation, answering questions with the briefest response possible, ending the discussion as quickly as possible, always hoping the other person would walk away. Conversation always made him nervous. Any social interaction made him nervous. Mingling was the worst for him. Those few minutes in dance class before the instructor always so rudely strolled in late were hell for Mark. Mark originally took the tango class as a way to get over some of his social anxieties, but it wasn't working. In the process, he discovered he was quite good at this new hobby of his, so he stuck with it, despite its social pains. 

Mark and Devon actually won second place at one of these competitions. They were perfectly in synch with each other, sensing each other's moves as always, but this time Devon was far more flashy. She embellished many more steps than usual and that got the attention of the judges, and the dance instructor. Several people from the tango class attended the competition that Friday night. They all went out to eat at the local diner afterwards. Devon looked like a drag queen in that diner's lighting and in her stage make-up. All of the men sitting at the table thought she looked incredible anyway.

"I was so sure they were going to mark us down points when I hesitated on the second count in the first song... the second count!"

"You couldn't tell you were hesitating," said the instructor. "It looked purposeful. You... guys looked great out there. I'm proud of you."

"Here! Here!" said Bob, another member of the dance class, raising his water glass. He was slightly overweight, balding, but one very capable leader. Devon and the instructor shared a prolonged glance over their glasses before sipping from them. Devon looked stunning. She wore a purple dress that had a very low cut v-neck and one of those spectacular push up bras every woman has in her arsenal. Her dress stopped mid-thigh and had ruffles around the bottom. It exposed her well defined legs which were made complete at the feet with purple strappy heels. Devon wore extra thick eyeliner that night with a hint of eye shadow. When she turned her glance downwards, into the glass, away from the instructor, she exposed expertly crafted makeup. When it was time to leave, the instructor walked Devon out to her car.

"I'm actually giving Mark a ride home," she said.

"Some other time then," replied the instructor.

"Some other time," said Devon, pensively. Mark popped into Devon's passenger seat shortly thereafter. It was winter and it was freezing. Devon's car was an old 1988 Cutlass Ciera and took a significant amount of time to warm up. They had to wait at least another 15 minutes for the car to be warm enough to drive and get the heat going. Mark was curious and asked Devon what the instructor wanted. Devon evaded the question. She wasn't sure what she thought about the whole thing.

"I don't know. Just... some... thing," she said, waiving her hand up in the air and shaking her head. Mark let it go. He let it go because Devon let so much of what he talked about go. She drove him home and asked, "So why no car? Your wife out of town?" 

"Yeah, she's got Jacob at my father's house. He has a game out there tomorrow. The other car's in the shop. Timing belt issue. VW." Devon was stopped in the driveway. Mark didn't get out of the car. He seemed to be composing himself. "You did really great out there tonight."

"Yeah! Thanks to you! You were fantastic. We did well together. Second place!" Devon was exited. Mark still sat in the car. He was still composing himself. After months of reading Mark like a book, reading every little gesture he made, Devon knew him pretty well. She knew he had something else to say, or to ask.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" he finally asked. It was cold outside. "We just got this new cappuccino maker and my wife swears by it but it's all the same to me. If you like coffee, that is. If you don't that's okay. Or if you have somewhere else to be." Mark was babbling like he always does when he's nervous. Occasionally he did this when she asked him about his wife and he managed to babble on for five minutes or so without actually saying anything of substance. Occasionally, if Devon picked the right topic, Mark would babble on for five minutes and say something really smart. 

"Coffee, I mean, cappuccino sounds really nice," said Devon in the most soothing voice she could summon. She could tell Mark was nervous about asking her into his empty home and she had an inkling of an idea why that might be. She found this endearing, complimentary, sincere. "I have no place else to be. I'd love to discuss the finer points of the evening with you." She parked her car in the garage and they walked into the house.

The home was arranged on two stories. The décor was nothing short of bland. Beige walls, beige couch, beige countertops, and that biscuit appliance color Devon was sure no one ever bought. But all was neat and tidy. Mark took Devon to the kitchen and she made herself comfortable on one of the wooden stools behind the center island. Mark fidgeted a little with the cappuccino machine and managed to produce two fine cups of coffee. He sat down next to Devon and they shared an extremely awkward silence over the coffee. Devon looked at Mark as if she could see right through him. He felt as if she could see every secret and burning intention in his mind. She leaned back in her stool and sipped her coffee confidently and comfortable with the silence, in contrast to Mark. Mark, on the other hand, grew more and more uncomfortable the longer the silence lasted. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, even unfastening his tie. He shifted positions in his stool. His hands shook when holding the little cappuccino cup. This shaking was very clear every time he picked up or put down the cup onto its saucer because it made a slight rattling noise. Devon somewhat enjoyed watching Mark's discomfort climax. She enjoyed the possibility that her charms or maybe her appearance had such an affect on a man, even if it was a man quite gauche by nature. She wasn't used to having this kind of influence over someone, even though she wasn't certain it was she who was making him nervous. Devon was still self-doubting, but compared to Mark she was a cougar. But she liked the idea of making Mark nervous. She really liked the idea. She was really beginning to like this uneasiness in Mark. It gave her a sense of control over him. She knew she could put him at ease.




Switch



"You know. I really have to hand it to you. You are a fantastic leader, Mark. I never would have thought that I could follow anyone, in any situation, really, but you've been great to work with. It really game through tonight. Cheers to a fantastic leader." And Devon raised her cappuccino cup to meet Mark's. They didn't clink.

"Absolutely not. If it wasn't for your elaborate embellishments there is no way we would have won second place," Mark refused Devon's compliment.

"I really did let go tonight, didn't I?"

"Yes, I suppose you did. I can toast to letting go," conceded Mark.

"To letting go then," Devon had won a small victory. Now she just needed Mark to let go of himself a little bit. Their cups clinked and they stared at each other over them as they sipped their homemade cappuccinos. Devon set her cup down and scooted forward in her chair to sit more closely to Mark. She crossed her legs and folded her hands across her lap. "So. What is it exactly that you do when your wife is away? Mark." Devon knew this question would make Mark nervous. Devon knew that if she wanted to get anywhere with Mark in that house tonight she had to play it safe, make him feel safe, comfortable, at ease.

"I... um... I usually just watch TV and go to bed. Nothing too exiting, I know."

"Trust me. My life is the same. Come home, work out, grade papers in front of the TV, go to bed. That's about it for me too. What do you watch?" asked Devon.

"I like um actually... I like a lot of the shows on the SciFi channel. My wife hates them. She thinks they're stupid and silly. I think science fiction allows you to explore social, political and religious beliefs in a totally unrestricted setting. In a world completely created by the author or filmmaker that doesn't know the boundaries set forth by today's or previous day's societies. I guess that's why a lot of those books and movies take place in the future or on other planets. Our world just isn't equipped to really fully handle those issues." Mark completely opened up to Devon for a second there. "But that's just me." And then Mark closed himself off again.

"Well I happen to know Dr. Who is on in five minutes." Devon smiled mischievously. "Is that enough time for my new SciFi friend to make some popcorn?" Devon was pretending to assume Mark's acceptance of her invitation to watch TV in HIS living room. But Mark was surprised Devon didn't respond to his comments on Science Fiction by calling him a nerd. She wanted to watch Science Fiction with him. He accepted and within minutes they were on the couch, searching for the channel. Devon unbuckled her heels and slipped out of them so she could curl up on the couch. She sat close to Mark, close enough to reach the popcorn, but not so close as to frighten him. Much to her relief there was a Dr. Who marathon on, not to mention an exceeding large bowl of popcorn, and Devin had all night to work her charms on Mark. 

After the first episode she scooted closer to him under the guise of better reaching the popcorn. At the end of the second episode she kneeled up and reached behind Mark to get a throw off the couch, her pressed up breasts were inches away from his face, her parted knees were inches away from his thigh. Mark struggled to keep his eyes on the obnoxious commercials. On her way back down Devon exhaled hot breath on Mark's neck. She paused to look at his expression, at the effect this had on him. Mark was surprisingly calm when he looked at her momentarily. He caught himself and directed his attention back to the insufferable announcer on the auto wax commercial. Devon sat on her feet, still in the kneeling position. She took Mark's cheek, turned his head to face her and kissed him. Her kiss to him was gentle and submissive. His kiss to her was tentative and withdrawn. 

"Mark," Devon sighed. "I meant what I said about your leadership skills on the dance floor. You've actually helped me learn a lot about myself. And I loved what you said about Science Fiction. I thought that was really insightful. You're this mysterious, perceptive, suave guy and I really like you. Open yourself up to me. Really kiss me."

Devon had explained everything to Mark. She told him why she liked him. She had given him permission to kiss him. For some reason this put him at ease. So he kissed her. This time Devon grabbed both sides of his face and kneeled up over him on the couch. She penetrated his mouth. She licked his tongue. This time her kiss to him was powerful, passionate, and probing. Now it was his kiss that was submissive, but his kiss was also passionate, also deep, also powerful. Devon kneeled over Mark's lap and continued kissing him, running her fingers through his blond hair.

"Unzip my dress," she said. And Mark, feeling relieved by this permission, obliged. He gently tugged at the top of her dress and pulled the zipper slowly down her arched back. Devon pulled the dress over her head and tossed it onto the seat cushion. She revealed a natural colored bra with black lace overlay and matching panties. Her feet were already bare. She kissed Mark again and he kissed her back wantonly. She unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it out of his pants, and ran her hands along his chest. "Where is your bedroom?"

"Upstairs. First door on the left."

"Take me there." Mark lifted Devon, something he'd done many times before, but not like this. Not over the threshold. Not in her undergarments. He felt confident because of her confidence in him. He felt calm because her commands to him gave him permission to act out all the private deeds he'd been thinking about and had never admitted, not even to himself. He felt suave simply because he was with Devon, and it was with Devon on the dance floor that he was truly debonair. 

Devon saw Mark's responses to her commands. She saw his relaxation, the smoothness of his dance moves translating into sex. She knew he was a nervous wreck, but when she told him what to do, he did it. Happily. And he calmed down. It was evident to Devon from that moment how the night would proceed. Mark carried her to the bedroom and sat her down on the bed. Devon kneeled up with her hands on her thighs and brushed her hair to one shoulder. Mark admired her physique, her long hair, her unique facial features. Mark was still standing.

"I want you to listen to me carefully. Are you listening?" Devon asked

"I'm listening," said Mark eagerly.

"I want you to start licking at the back of my neck, lick all the way down my spine, lick all around the bottom of me to the front of me, up my stomach, up my neck, and kiss me with the taste of my pussy in your mouth. Do you think you could do that for me?" Mark was shocked and excited and shocked. "And I want you to take off your pants." He could feel confident and capable of any dirty little deed his imagination could dream up, if she permitted. So he took off his pants and threw them across the room. He climbed onto the bed and kneeled behind Devon. He kissed the back of her neck and licked it once. Then he began the long lick, down her spine. He could feel all the small white hairs standing up in response to his licking. He would stop licking occasionally to kiss a particularly sensitive spot, if Devon recoiled with pleasure or sighed, or hissed. When he got to her bra he unclasped it and as he continued licking his hands slipped the bra from her shoulders. Devon took his hands from the bra, removed the bra herself, and placed his hands on her breasts. He stroked her nipples playfully until they stood at attention and his hands wandered elsewhere as his tongue slid lower and lower down her body. He caressed the fullness of her breasts, along the outsides, the inwards curvature of her waist, the muscular fullness of the agile legs he'd come to love so much. When his tongue reached her panties he began to pull them down and Devon crawled onto all fours so that she may be more accessible to him. He licked the small of her back, down her butt down her ass. His tongue circled around her anus, feeling the taught skin of its circumference. He licked further down and Devon lied down on her back and Mark licked her pussy, parting her lips, running his tongue into and out of her. He ran his tongue up to her clit, flicking it only momentarily and running his mouth up her stomach to her mouth, kissing her. He asked for permission to enter her, to which she replied,

"Yes, you may." And they fucked on that bed, Mark's marital bed, with the taste of Devon's pussy in their mouths, Mark pounding into her every few seconds, Devon responding each time as though she were being eaten alive. At the next tango session Mark was awkward again and Devon didn't understand. He was suave again, once the music started. She didn't have much time to ponder it either. The dance instructor was interfering with their dancing frequently to talk to Devon. 

"Might I say," the instructor said, "You guys looked really great out there on Friday night." He was following them across the dance floor. "Especially you, Devon."

"Thank you," said Devon and Mark spun her in a direction away from the instruction. "And thank you for that. I don't know what his deal is." But the instructor was insistent. He cut in between Devon and Mark and Mark had to let him in.

"As I was saying. You looked stunning. But not just stunning. Stunning and intelligent."

Oh God, Devon thought. Is he drunk? "I think we did all right. We didn't get first place," she said dispassionately. 

"Well, I see you want to get back with your partner. Hey, you'll still help me with the stereo after class, right?"

"Yeah. I'll help you," Devon said and got back to dancing with Mark. "You know Mark, I want you to know, I had a really really great time Friday night. It was really great to get to know you better." Devon was talking about the matter nonchalantly, forgetting that Mark takes these types of issues deeply seriously. They make him very uneasy.

"Keep your voice down. Someone might hear you," he urged.

"No one can hear us. I just wanted to pay you a compliment." That stopped Mark dead in his tracks. A compliment? Had he performed well? Had he pleased her? Mark grabbed Devon by the waist and held her close to him. They danced intensely close for the rest of the evening. After class was over, Mark left and Devon stuck around to help the instructor with the stereo.

"You know, I always felt funny asking a woman in high heels to help me with this thing," the instructor said.

"Oh don't be silly. I can do anything in a pair of heels. How did you get into teaching nighttime classes, anyway?" Devon asked.

"Oh that's just for the extra cash. During the day I work for a non-profit organization that gets resident artists to teach classes to rural school kids. I teach them modern usually, but sometimes ballet and other forms of dance."

"Wow. That's really cool. You know I'm a teacher. I teach Special Education," Devon said, completely taken aback by this seemingly sleazy man's admirable day job.

"That's really great. I don't know how you do it. Here. Put these wires in this bag." Devon did. "Can you grab that speaker and that one? Can you get them both?"

I think so," Devon struggled but managed both. They walked out of the studio together, Devon carrying much more of the stereo than the instructor. She carried it to his truck and they both loaded all of the components in. They pushed the tailgate shut together and shared a glance at each other.

"Do you want to come over to my place for a drink?" the instructor asked. He was moving rather quickly. He was pushing Devon. He was bold.

"I... um... sure. Why not? One drink," Devon warned.

"One drink. I'll drive you back to your car here when we're done," he said.

"Allright," said Devon and she climbed into the passenger side of his truck, unsure of what she was thinking. This was reckless for her, a teacher, sharing cars with men, veering from her routine, making plans to go home with a man she barely knew anything about. When they arrived at the instructor's apartment it looked just as she imagined it might. There were newspaper clippings on the wall, pictures of the instructor winning awards, or of the instructor standing with students winning awards. There were a few trophies. A pair of men's pointe shoes hanging over a bar. The décor was decidedly late 1980's, with dark brown wooden paneling on half the walls, a striped upholstery couch, and linoleum floors in the kitchen. The instructor pulled out his blender.

"I'll make you a margarita?" 

"Sure," said Devon. "You know, your accent. I've never been able to place it. Where are you originally from?"

"Uzbekistan," the instructor said, licking margarita mix off his fingers and dumping a large amount of it into the blender. Devon hated blended drinks. He then spent a prolonged amount of time pouring tequila into the blender. Just a little too long, Devon thought. When the drinks were done he poured them into sizeable glasses and gestured Devon to sit on the couch.

"Tell me more about the work you do with the kids," Devon asked. Everything this man did seemed seedy, from the way he walked to the way he'd just made those drinks, but his day job seemed fascinating, honorable, respectable. She knew all she wanted to know about his seedy side, she wanted to know more about his respectable side.

"It's pretty cool. You mean the resident artist job, right? Not the coaching?" Devon nodded. "I work for an organization that pulls together resident artists from all around the state and hires them out to rural schools. Sometimes I work one week in one school, sometimes I work one day in another. It always depends. But it's a fun job. The kids are really fun. They don't normally get that kind of education from their regular teachers, so they're always really into it. Even the reticent ones eventually warm up to you. What about you? You work with a special population."

"I like it a lot. I've been working lots of different jobs in different fields for a long time and this is definitely the most rewarding. All those little victories in the classroom day by day make all the extra work worth it. And the big victories! Those are what I work for. But I could get really nerdy and really into all the details of the job. It'd probably be really boring for you." Devon sipped and crunched on her drink. It was never classy to have to chew your beverage. But it was most certainly taking its effect on her. "So when did you start dancing?" The instructor was seeming less and less sordid and more and more interesting. She was finding herself liking the way his belt emphasized his slender waist, the way his black hair fell in stiffly gelled locks onto his forehead, the way he was lean but muscular and strong enough to lift her. His accent was becoming endearing. It could have all been the margarita, she thought to herself.

"I started dancing at a young age. In my country most of my peers made fun of me for dancing. They said I was a gay. I have nothing against gays, mind you. But I did get made fun of a lot. But there were some who respected my choice. I trained hard. Why did you start dancing?"

"Oh, I guess I needed to get out a little more. Meet some people. Tango sounded really structured and rigid and I liked that about it. That's why I stuck with it. And I really enjoyed following for a change, you know?" The instructor raised an eyebrow. Devon continued, "I have to exert all this control over my environment at school, over my kids, over my body when I work out, I pluck all these little hairs, I'm so controlling. It's nice to give up control a few hours a week. To be the follower and not the leader. It relieves a little of the pressure, you know?"

"I think I know exactly what you mean," said the instructor, truly knowing more about what she meant than Devon might have. He stared at her eyes. This made Devon nervous, self-doubting again. For a few days there, she'd forgotten what that had felt like. Was her makeup smeared? Was her dress askew? Was there something in her teeth? She excused herself and asked to use his bathroom. All was right with her. No bread in her teeth, no twisted dress, no smudges or blotches on her skin of any kind. The instructor's intentions became clear. It was time for her to finish her drink as quickly as possible and leave, convince him to drive her back to her car. She wondered why she found herself caring about such minute details of her appearance around a guy she wasn't even interested in. She wondered, if she wasn't interested, why did she get into the truck with him in the first place. Devon always had to be the best. She returned to the living room and sat back down on the couch, picked up her half empty drink and took a big sip from it, holding it with both hands at her knees, trying to sit as properly as she could. This excessive politeness Devon was displaying, sitting straight up, knees together, dress over her knees, now more formal in her speech, made the instructor all the more eager to attract her, to persuade her he was more than worthy. Devon took two more big sips from her cup. The instructor scooted in to Devon.

"You know. A lot of women express the same emotions. They enjoy the ability to give up control. There are many ways you can give up control, Devon." And with that he pounced on Devon, straddling her on the couch, grabbing her arms up over her head and running his hands up to her wrists, pressing them to the wall behind the couch. He put her drink down. He licked the profile of her face. Devon resisted, fought back, struggled, but the instructor only strengthened his grip on her both with his hands and with his thighs. He was slender, but he was still heavier and stronger than she. She was immobilized. "How does it feel?" he said, exhaling cold breath onto her wet face with each word. "How does it feel to be immobile? To know you have no control?" Keeping her hands pressed above her he brushed aside her hair with his face and licked her ear, her neck, her collarbone. He was sampling her. Devon was quite sensitive on her collarbone and she let out an exhale. "You like it," he said. Devon wasn't so sure, but she had no choice. He pressed his face into her neck, kissing it, he kissed her face. Devon refused to kiss back. The instructor always loved her attitude. He grabbed her wrists together with one hand and lowered them behind her back, using the other hand to grab her face. He squeezed her cheeks together, forcing her mouth open, and he shoved his tongue down her throat, half kissing her with it, half probing her. Devon felt herself slowly relax once he'd only gripped her wrists with one hand. The way he made her put her arms behind her on the couch caused her to arch her back. The way he sat on her lap caused her to arch it further. He held her head in his hand in an upward position. Devon imagined that this dance instructor was making her look quite beautiful, quite sexy, at that moment. She felt sexy. She felt her body become aroused, her skin more sensitive, her lips swollen. Slowly and cautiously Devon began kissing the instructor back. She let her wrists yield to his hand, she stopped kicking her legs intermittently. He let go of her wrists and pressed her shoulders into the couch with his hands and they kissed each other deeply, Devon acquiescing to his weight, his pressure, the instructor pressing her less and less, responding to her yields.

"Do you want to see how good giving up control can really feel? Do you want me to take you places you've never been?" The instructor was getting pretty full of himself but Devon was rather enjoying herself, when she could get past the instructor's faults. She was going to need more to drink. She wondered what she was doing. Tonight and last weekend were going to make up more sexual encounters than she'd had in the last year. She was drinking on a school night. She had homework to grade yet. This man was a nut job. Her pussy was wet.




Switch



"Let's go to those places, yes, but first, I see you have more margarita in that blender," Devon suggested.

"My kinda girl!" the instructor exclaimed and they guzzled the rest of the drinks together within the next five minutes. "Now I have to warn you. My bedroom has a lot of gear in it, but don't be scared. We'll be safe. If anything freaks you out we'll use a safe word, so I know you need to stop. Once we enter into the bedroom we'll be in role. I'll be the Dominant and you'll be the submissive."

"Okay. So what's our safe word?" asked Devon, wanting to get on with all this.

"You pick."

"Um. Okay." Devon paused. "Three letter digraph."

"I don't even know what that is. And it's three words. But okay."

"That's funny because my second grade Special Ed students know what that is," Devon shared a laugh with the instructor. They stood up together, both feeling the effects of their drinks as they got up. The instructor made an 'after you' gesture for Devon to walk towards the bedroom and as soon as she passed him he grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back much in the same way a police officer would cuff a perpetrator. He pushed Devon forward every few steps they took and Devon even stumbled a bit. Once they reached the bedroom Devon was taken aback. It was well equipped. There was a sling hanging from the ceiling, hooks and loops screwed into the walls and ceiling, chains hanging from some of these hoops, and a giant chest at the foot of the bed. He instructed Devon to remove all her clothes except for her shoes. She did. 

The instructor hung short chains from the ceiling above the floor and attached hanging wrist restraints to the chains. He knew the exact length the chains should be; he'd obviously done this before. The restraints hung close to one of the walls covered in hooks and loops. He gestured for Devon to step up to the restraints, she did, and he buckled her in. He then place ankle restraints on Devon and Devon played along with all of this lightheartedly. She was facing with her back to the wall. The instructor positioned the ankle restraints so the D-ring loop was facing forward. He then lifted each foot and hooked it to a loop in the wall. Devon was fully suspended. The feeling of lightheartedness Devon had about the whole situation seemed to melt away and she began to sense how truly powerless she was. But a part of her still wanted to see where this was going, to see what all this would feel like. She saw the reversal, between herself and Mark and now between herself and the instructor. She wanted to feel what Mark felt, or could feel. She did want to loose control completely, because that constant and complete control she exercised over her life was tiring, was running her ragged. She wanted to let go. So she let him clip her ankles up. She let the instructor blindfold her. She let him use his crop on her pussy. She kept the safe word to herself.

"You drove Mark home Friday night," the instructor said. "Did anything happen between you two?"

"N-no. He's married. He's got a kid. No." The crop landed on the side of Devon's breast. It hurt, yes, but it awoke her senses. She felt her nipple harden. She longed to be touched.

"I saw the way he danced with you after you spoke with him. What did you say?"

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." The crop landed on her breast again. Then on her pussy. It lingered there, massaging it. Devon had very full outer labia, very thick, and her inner lips were like two slender rows of foliage in between, wavering, seeming to undulate in unison. You could see the very tops of her inner labia from the front of her, a hint of what was on the inside. The stinging was exciting, but Devon didn't know how much more of it she could take.

The instructor was still fully dressed. He stepped up close to Devon, heaving in her ear. "What did you say to him?"

"I paid him a compliment. I told him it was nice to get to know him," Devon blurted.

"I see. Now we're getting to the heart of the matter. And how is it that you came to get to know him better on Friday night, eh?"

"I just drove him home. He had this new cappuccino machine. We had coffee," Devon said.

"Was his wife home?"

"No."

"Was his son home?"

"No."

"And what did you do after this cappuccino?" asked the instructor.

"We watched some TV but that was it!" The crop landed on the side of Devon's rear. Hard.

"I'm sorry. I must not have heard you. What did you do after coffee?"

"We watched TV," Devon said. Again, the crop landed on her rear again, in the exact same place again. It stung twice as hard.

"What?"

"We had sex." Devon dropped her head down.

"I see. And how were you able to get such an awkward, pathetic case of a man to get up the courage to have sex with a woman such as yourself?"

"He's not pathetic!" Another smack. "I told him what to do."

"I see. I've snared a switch." With that Devon could hear the instructor drop his pants and felt him enter her while she hung from the ceiling. She submitted entirely, letting the chains at her wrists clink in unison with the instructor's thrusts. She hung there languidly, letting her full weight fall on the instructor's cock until he came, set her free, threw her dress over her face and left the room. Devon showed herself out and took a taxi to her car. The instructor was most certainly sleazy in every way, and if she were going to seek out other experiences as a submissive woman it would have to be with another man, but there was definitely something to it for her. There was that release, that relief from that high powered, highly methodical, super precise, intensely micromanaged control she had over all aspects of her life. She could relate to Mark, to the relief she saw in him when she directed him. Then again, she loved being in a position of power, the care that power allowed for, she loved the way she was able to put Mark at ease and then get him to do some of the naughty things she could come up with. Her relationship with Mark was already proscribed. She was to be Dominant. And, by the way she exited the instructor's apartment, the future of her relationship with the instructor seemed pretty proscribed as well. 

Devon was one tough bitch. Many women who'd have gone through what she'd gone through that evening, being treated that way after being used, would have been broken over it. But not Devon. Devon had gained some insight into how Mark felt, what it felt like to be relieved of all your obsessions momentarily, and, more importantly, she had gained some insight into herself, into what some of her own needs were.

Devon and Mark danced closely in dance class. They spoke freely during those times, during times when Mark felt more relaxed. It wasn't long before they realized they had both really enjoyed themselves that Friday and wanted to continue on that path. Pretty soon Mark and Devon began attending only the Thursday dance sessions and meeting regularly at Devon's apartment for the Tuesday sessions. The dance instructor of course noticed this but there was nothing he could do. During their Tuesday sessions Devon would instruct Mark to do increasingly more daring things. Fuck her ass. Lick her feet. Devon would wear increasingly more daring outfits. Spike heels. A leather corset. Thigh high boots.

Mark was an insurance actuary. This meant he was paid a decent salary to work in a nice office and crunch numbers. Mark was quite brilliant. But occasionally, his insurance company would send him out to inspect an accident. This was socially devastating for Mark, having to deal with all those people. He liked the comfort and solitude of his office. Having Devon around resolved a lot of this tension. Devon started calling in sick to work, as she had accumulated quite a few sick days, to accommodate this schedule and go with him.

One evening, they were in Seattle in a hotel room. Devon was wearing a leather waist cincher and leather thigh high boots. They had discussed everything in advance. Mark lied on the floor wearing nothing but a collar with a black chain attached to it, the end of which was, of course, in Devon's hand. Devon stood over him. She put one boot tip in his mouth and twisted it like she was putting out a cigarette. 

"Lick my boots," she said coldly. Mark licked them desperately. She fed him her spike heel which he licked as well. She dragged her wet heel down the front of his face, down his chin, his neck, his chest. She pressed her heel into his balls and he winced. She tapped him with a crop, "No crying, baby." She pulled her heel out from his balls and walked away. Two seconds later the chain jerked Mark in her direction. She walked up to the balcony swung the curtain open and turned the light on. "I want everyone to see you. I want everyone to see you servicing me." Mark was on all fours. Devon put a foot on one of his shoulders and he knelt up to meet her pussy. He buried his face in it. He stuck his tongue into and out of her, he flicked her clit, he licked her ass. He stuck his fingers into and out of her. Devon dropped her head back, the hand holding the chain resting on Mark's head. Devon was being watched. Devon was being serviced. Devon was cumming in front of who knows how many people. Her legs went limp momentarily, but she caught herself on a chair. Her stomach convulsed. She gasped out.

"Have I done well?" Mark would ask.

"Amazing as usual," Devon would say. And Devon would be rewarded again with a brief time period within which Mark was not awkward, within which Mark was not self-doubting. But Devon enjoyed the self-conscious, ill at ease Mark. She liked it when he babbled on when he was nervous, or when he was suddenly overcome with passion for a certain subject. Mark knew this about Devon because of the closeness required of their sexual relationship. He knew what pleased her about him. It made him feel good to go out to dinners with her and act totally un-cool in every way and know it pleased her to see him like that. He knew she liked the way he followed orders. He knew the rules and followed them. He knew she like the way he acted when he was dancing, when he was fucking. Over the course of the next few months Devon and Mark came to love one another.

They reveled in their roles. They read books about their roles. They understood the psychology behind their roles. They developed their roles out of mutual respect for each other's personalities. Devon admired Mark's intellect. Mark admired Devon's selflessness in her career. Their Dominant/submissive roles were as unique as they were, as any Dominant/submissive couple is. They were as healthy a couple as could be, except for one small problem. Mark was still married. It was a relationship fated not to last by its very nature. Devon was the other woman. She was ultimately going to have to be the wrong choice for Mark. Sooner or later Mark would come to his senses and choose his wife and child over her. Devon knew this of Mark. But Devon had gained monumental knowledge about herself. Who she was, the roles she represented. She knew that about herself now. She knew who she was.

Mark occasionally talked about his wife during their intimate times, during times after sex, during dancing. He mentioned her rising suspicions, how she noticed his calmer demeanor on Tuesdays, after business trips. She was curious about this demeanor. She'd never seen him this way. Sex with Mark's wife was decidedly more relaxed than sex with Devon, and because of that more relaxed atmosphere Mark was far less able to relax during sex with his wife. His wife, Ana, would try to set the mood, to calm Mark, to ease his nervous tensions by lighting candles, wearing nighties, playing music. All these efforts only put the spotlight more onto Mark, it only put more pressure on Mark to perform, to act more cool, calm, and collected. It is for this reason he always failed at this with his wife, he always fumbled, always stuttered, always struggled internally. So when he came home having obtained that presence of mind Ana had always strived at obtaining with him, she was naturally suspicious.

Ana was the kind of woman that found beige and biscuit suitable and pleasing and proper colors for an upper middle class home. She married an insurance actuary because of the job security. Very few job openings for insurance actuaries pop up, only when one retires does a position become available. She thought Mark's interest in Science Fiction flicks and books was stupid. She thought his interest in tango was pointless, it obviously wasn't helping him socialize, she thought. The truth was, he was socializing better than ever. She liked romantic comedies, like any middle aged woman should. Movies about women in their forties falling into desperate love, because she knew no such thing. Movies about mid-life crises being worked out by love, because maybe Mark was just having a social crisis and it could be fixed by a plot twist in their lives. Movies about quirky people falling in love, because deep down, Ana thought she had enough personality to be quirky, to be unique. Even though her favorite color was biscuit. She worked as a personal banker. Not the high powered type, though she liked to wear the attire, but the low end, sell mortgages to people who can't afford them type. And the high powered attire she wore wasn't the kind of tightly tailored jackets and slimming skirted suits one might imagine. Ana liked to shop at Anne Taylor, wore conservatively pleated pant suits, blouses with strategic folds to cover any and all cleavage. She worked on commission and wasn't very aggressive, so most of the money coming into the household was from Mark's occupation, not Ana's. Essentially, it was from Mark's intellect that Ana could afford those suits from Anne Taylor, but Ana didn't appreciate his intellect. Ana played the role of soccer mom, or baseball mom as it was. She wore the right cashmere sweaters. She made the right dishes to cook outs. All her actions were proscribed by was supposed to be, how one was supposed to act, look, dress, talk, be. Her husband's social inadequacies were embarrassing to her. She excluded him from many social events because of this, under the guise of relieving him from his social tensions. She attended parent teacher conferences alone. She attended baseball team cook outs alone with their son Jacob. She even once went to a New Year's Eve party for work alone, leaving her husband behind to watch the big ball drop on TV alone.

When Mark started displaying his cooler side at home and Ana started asking questions Mark's responses to her questions would vary. They would depend upon how shortly after his encounter with Devon the questions were asked. If he had just come home from one of their Tuesday night sessions, Mark would have a quick response, the effects of his meeting with Devon had not yet worn off. He would be able to brush his wife off. This new ability Ana noticed in her husband, this ability to come up with a reasonable response quickly, only made Ana more suspicious. And if Ana asked Mark about the changes she'd noticed in him at another time, say on a random Monday evening, Mark would stutter uncontrollably, shift around in his chair or position, fidget with his clothing, babble on without actually saying anything. All tell tale signs for anyone who knows Mark that he is nervous about something, that he is talking around something, that he has something to hide. It wasn't long before Ana put two and two together but she didn't know how to talk to Mark about it. When he was more collected, he brushed her off. When he was more his usual self, he was incapable of addressing the more uncomfortable issues in life. 

Here was the plot twist that was going to put in motion what Ana might call fixing Mark. She decided to follow him. She'd noticed he came home feeling 'not himself' after his Tuesday dance lessons so she left work early that Tuesday. She sat outside Mark's parking garage around 6:30, when she knew he normally left for lessons. She sat out there, parked on the side of the street for an hour. She knew the lesson started at 7:30 and still, Mark's car never left the lot. She dialed his work number from her cell and he didn't pick up. She dialed his cell and he never picked up. She went home and asked Mark how dance was.

"It was great. We learned this new form of Tango called Milonga. Lots of fancy footwork," Mark responded. It was a clear response. No babbling. No stuttering. Ana had obviously missed her opportunity in following him. She needed to catch him sooner. So the following Tuesday she made another excuse for leaving work early, a follow up doctor's appointment, she told her boss, and she left work to station herself outside her husband's parking garage at 5:30 and she waited. The thought crossed her mind that she could invite herself to her husband's tango lessons, but the sheer stupidity of those lessons made that an impossibility for her. Following him was the only option for her. Sure enough, just after 5:30 Mark's car pulled out of the garage. Ana stepped on the gas and followed Mark's car. She followed him with another car in between them so he wouldn't notice her. He took a number of turns and finally, after about twenty minutes he ended up at an apartment building.

"I knew it," she said out loud to herself in the car. She watched Mark walk up the iron staircase up to the second floor and knock. She saw only the top of some blond bimbo open the door and invite Mark in. That's where he'd been going on Tuesday nights. That's probably what had been going on during those business trips, if he'd been going on them at all. Ana sat fuming in her car for about twenty minutes. She was livid. That bimbo. Ana got up the courage and stormed up to the apartment and held her hand up as if to knock on the door but then she heard some voices coming from within the place.

Inside the apartment Devon and Mark were acting out a scene they had arranged over the phone in detail. Devon was wearing a new latex outfit she had purchased from the Stockroom. She wore a latex corset with latex stockings that went very high and seven inch spike heels. Spike heels always came in handy. She had to cover the latex covered body parts in lubricant in order to get all this latex gear on without piercing it with her thumb or the like so she decided to cover the rest of her body in lubricant. Her pussy and ass were freshly waxed and carefully lubed in every fold and curve. Devon was armed with a paddle and of course the short chain which was attached to Mark's precious collar. The collar was in her hands as well. He wasn't wearing it yet. He'd just walked in the door. Devon ran her fingernails down the buttons of his shirt and let a breath exhale over his face.

"How was work? Did you come up with any brilliant algorithms?" Devon asked.

"It was... it was... fine," Mark stuttered. He quickly unloaded the contents of his pockets, eagerly, onto the hallway table. A wallet. A cell phone. Loose change. He loosened his tie. He took off his suit jacket and began to hang it on a hook in the wall, not in a fluid gesture, but in sporadic movements, as if intermittently unsure if that's what he was supposed to be doing.

"You may hang your jacket up," Devon said. And Mark let out a sigh and hung it up. "Got to the kitchen and wait for me there." Mark went. Devon counted to ten and followed him. She walked into the kitchen, stood before him with her legs about two feet apart, still armed, and dropped the collar from her hands, still hanging by the chain. Mark's collar was purchased for him as a gift about six weeks into their affair. They chose the collar together. It had o-rings at regular intervals all around the neck, so that the chain may be hooked by a carabineer from any angle. 

"Did you wear your gear all day like you were supposed to do? Were you a good boy?" Devon asked as she un buttoned Mark's shirt and fastened the collar. Mark was now in his usual collar but was wearing a special restraint for his cock and balls under his pants. It was constructed like leather underwear with holes for his cock and balls to go through. Straps were sewn in with buckles to restrain his balls and his cock in an upright position. There were a total of six buckles restraining his cock and one squeezing at the top of his balls.




Switch



"Yes ma'am," he said.

"And how did it make you feel?"

"It made me feel like you were with me all day. I could feel your restraints. I was calmer. More collected. It worked." Mark said.

"But you were nervous when you came in. We'll have to think of something more extreme. But for now, I'll have to deal with you. It was very naughty of you to wear leather under your clothes to such a conservative job, but it was so nice of you to follow my instructions. Take off your clothes," Devon said.

Mark unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. He unfastened his tie. He unbuckled his belt and pulled off his shoes and pants. Nothing was left but his socks. Devon paddled him for this once on the rear.

"Your socks please. You are to be fully nude. Fully submissive to me. Take off your socks."

"Yes ma'am," he replied dutifully. 

"Bend over the counter. We need to address this naughtiness." Mark bent over the counter and Devon twisted the chain so the collar twisted around the back of his neck. She pulled at it slightly, as to asphyxiate him gently. She paddled him there, with a textured paddle over and over. Mark's body jerked forward with each swing. If he winced Devon said what she always said, "No crying, baby," and hit him harder. When the paddling was over Devon instructed him to lie down on the cold tile floor. He hissed at this, his raw ass touching the frigid, hard surface. Ana put one foot on Mark's chest.

"Can I please lick your pussy. I've been so good," Mark pleased.

"You may lick. You may go down on me." 

Standing outside the apartment, Ana heard the woman's voice say, "...ick. Down," decisively.

"Yes ma'am," said her husband.

"Yes ma'am?" Ana thought. She knocked on the door loudly. "Mark! I know you're in there. Get your ass out here! I know you're in there!" There was no answer. "I can hear you! Get out here! Think of your son! How can you do this to me?" There was no answer. "Coward. I saw you walk in there! Come out and face me!" 

Inside the apartment Devon still had her foot on Mark's chest. She instructed him not to respond. "We are in a collected, calm environment. We are safe here. Do not let her intrude upon this." They didn't answer. Again Mark's wife's voice came screaming and Mark seemed visibly distressed. Devon eased him, "She is trying to break you. You have won. You have found your peace. Look how far you've come. Don't let her take that away from you." Again, the voice came, this time it called Mark a coward. Mark tried to get up. That was the last straw. "No! You are NOT a coward. It takes courage and strength and sheer will to do what you do. Do NOT let this out of control crazy woman into our safe place. Stay where you are. Let me handle this. Under no circumstances may you move from your position." Devon left the chain attached to Mark's collar on the floor next to him.

A female voice came out to Ana from behind the door. "If you don't lower your voice I will be forced to call the police," it said. "Kindly leave." The voice was firm and calm. A stark contrast to Ana's ranting and raving. She accepted her defeat but also knew she had won. She knew Mark had heard her, Mark now knew she knew about his affair. They would have a talk that evening as soon as he got home. Devon knew they would have a talk when they got home. Devon knew the time had come for Mark to make that ultimate choice between herself and his family.

Devon went back to Mark and said, "I will give you two options. We need to discuss what just happened and finish our scene. In what order would you like to continue?" Mark thought about this for awhile while Devon stood over his shoulders, her lubricated pussy a definite deterrent from one of the options. If it wasn't for the situation he had been in, the Dominant/submissive roles he and Devon were in, what had just taken place would have completely overwhelmed Mark to a point way past panic attack. He wanted to talk it through. However, he wanted to be as clear headed as possible when he was talking it through and sex with Devon was the only way to get that clear headedness and her pussy certainly looked appetizing. He chose the latter.

"I really want to reward you for being such a good boy in your training at work today. And your behavior during your wife's outbursts was remarkable, Mark. I want to be very good to you. You may eat my pussy." And Devon kneeled carefully in her latex stockings over Mark's face. She gave him access to her clit, to her labia, to her ass. She rocked back and forth, controlling what he could lick, stick his tongue into. She rode his face for a brief five minute and as quickly as she had lowered herself onto him she raised herself up. She pulled his chain and lifted him up, led him to the couch, and sat him down. She straddled him on the couch and kissed his mouth, something she did only on rare occasions, only when Mark behaved really well. She kissed his earlobes, his nipples, she stuck her tongue into his navel and she wrapped her mouth around the only part of his now hard cock that was sticking out from the buckled restraints of his leather chastity belt. She unbuckled one buckle at a time, slowly taking in more and more of his cock into her mouth, her red lipstick smearing all over him. She pulled even harder on his balls. Mark threw his head back and pressed his hands onto his thighs in pleasure. Eventually all buckles were undone and the whole of Mark's cock was in Devon's mouth and down her throat. She pulled it out and a string of wetness trailed from her mouth to his tip. Mark was not used to this amount of attention. He was special tonight. She unbuckled the sides of his chastity belt and removed it while he was still in the sitting position. She climbed onto him and pressed his cock into her pussy. She was wet. All this drama required her to exercise an extraordinary amount of control over Mark and she was successful at it. It was very exiting to her. She raised her entire body and dropped it onto him repeatedly. This was exquisitely pleasurable for both of them and Devon became exceedingly wet. She began grinding into Mark on her way down, stimulating her clit and lifting and dropping herself faster and faster. She came but didn't allow Mark to. After she came, she moved her body in circled around him and pulled herself off of him and pressed him into her ass slowly. She relaxed. Mark was wound up, she could tell he wouldn't be able to hold back orgasm much longer no matter what she said or did. She lowered herself onto him and began flexing and contorting her anus. She raised and lowered her body about three times before telling him he may cum. He did so instantly.

"You are so good to me," he said. "I know we need to talk about what happened. But you are so good to me. That was so nice."

"Your wife's pretty crazy over this. Does she really care about you?" Devon probed.

"She thinks Science Fiction is stupid. She thinks Tango is stupid. She doesn't understand what I do at work. She doesn't understand me like you do. She doesn't like to go out to dinner with me like you do. She always leaves me at home because I'm so weird."

"She is your wife. What are you going to do? There's a fork in the road, Mark," Devon said.

"I don't know... I don't know. I have to face her. Or maybe I don't." Devon's heart was beating fast. Was there a chance Mark would choose her, her when it came right down to it, like it was coming down to it now. In this seemingly hopeless situation she had prepared herself for, for so long maybe there was a glimmer of a possibility that Mark would leave his wife for her. But how could she ask that of him? There was still something she needed, there was still a need not being met for her, there was still something Mark could never give her. Devon still needed to feel relief from all this power like she did in the dance instructor's home. How could she ask Mark to choose her if she couldn't be monogamous with him? She had to advise him to be with his wife.

"You have to face her. Tell her everything. Who knows? Maybe she'll be willing to try things with you," Devon said, feigning a hopeful voice, running her fingers through her pet's hair. She took off his collar and he dressed himself and left. On his drive home all sorts of thoughts circled through his mind. Thoughts of his son. How he'd been excluded from his life for so many years because of his social inhibitions. How his wife had treated him. How Devon had been pleased with every aspect of his personality. It became quite clear what he had to do. He had to leave his wife. He pulled into the garage and stormed into the door.

"You and me we've gotta talk mister!" yelled Ana.

"I have nothing to say to you. You'll hear from my lawyer."

"You won't get anything from me in this divorce. I'm not the one with the infidelities!" exclaimed Ana.

"Do I have to remind you who makes most of the money in this house?" replied Mark.

"No. You don't. And I'm going to suck you dry. I'm going to suck you for every penny you're worth."

"That'll be a change. You never sucked anything before," said Mark, shocked at his own response.

"Is that what that whore does for you? Does she suck your... your... penis?"

"She's not a whore. She understands me. That's why I come home so calm. Haven't you ever wondered why YOU couldn't ever do that for me?" asked Mark.

"Well. What exactly does she do?" asked Ana, getting curious, and vulnerable. 

"You wouldn't understand," said Mark as he began to pack a bag.

"Mark," Ana lowered her voice, "I've known you for fifteen years. What wouldn't I possibly understand."

"Oh I don't know. My interest in Science Fiction. My love of dance. My difficulties in social situations. Those are some things you don't understand. Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm your wife." Devon was right. When it came down to it Mark wanted to make the "right" choice. So Mark sat his wife down, he explained how he felt when he danced, he explained how Devon dressed, how she talked to him, the permissions she gave him, the restraints he felt and how they relieved his tensions, how within his confinement he felt free from his obsessions and paranoia. 

And ultimately Ana wanted that plot twist she saw in her romantic comedies. Ana wanted to fix Mark's crisis of social imperfection. Ana had spent fifteen years of her life with Mark, shared a son with him. She wanted to make it work with him. She was willing to try something new, something different. She'd seen women in leather on TV before. So Mark liked leather over silk. She thought she could handle that. And through discussion the only way, the only way, that Ana could ever learn to be a dominant woman was to talk to Devon. They did research on the internet that night, but none of the information seemed to cater to Mark's unique and complex psychological needs. Mark arranged for a meeting with the three of them. He called Devon on the phone.

"I've decided to stay with my wife. I'm sorry," Mark said.

"I understand. I knew this would happen eventually. It's part of being the other woman. I can't say I'm not hurt or deeply saddened. I love you, Mark."

"I can't respond to you," Mark said, Ana was in the room.

"I see."

"I told Ana everything," Mark said.

"What do you mean by everything?"

"I told her about the leather and the collar and, just, everything."

"I see," said Devon cautiously, unsure of where this conversation was going. She knew Mark intimately. He wouldn't have broken up with her over the phone. There was something else going on.

"She wants to try it and we spent the whole night looking up sites on the internet and nothing gave us the information we wanted and we really don't know where else to look and you always know exactly what to do so I'm calling you..."

"Sh-sh." There was a silence over the phone. "Let me think about it and call you back. Will you be at this number?"

"Yes." Devon hung up.

"What did she say?" asked Ana

She said she loved me, Mark thought. "She said she'd think about it."

"Well you didn't have to babble on like that," Ana said. The phone rang fifteen minutes later. Devon had thought this through. She had always known Mark would leave her, she had always known she was the other woman. But she loved him, she wanted him to do well, to continue healing, to continue to become a better person. She wanted to help him.

"I'll work with you," Devon said. Mark exhaled. "Let me speak to her."

""What? Why?"

"There are conditions to this arrangement. You are breaking my heart with this Mark. You left me and now you want me to train your wife. You need to do as I say. Put her on." Mark gestured at his wife who was watching intently. She put her hands on her chest and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Me?" Mark only gestured more emphatically. He didn't want to keep Devon waiting.

"Hello?" Ana said.

"Is this the woman who was screaming outside my apartment yesterday?"

Ana sighed. "Yes it is."

"I will go along with your little arrangement, your little plan that you two have devised for one reason: I care deeply for your husband and want him to be happy. And as much as it saddens me he chooses to be with you, not me. And as much as it saddens him, you haven't the faintest clue as to how to make him happy."

"I think I know how to make my husband happy you little who-"

"Quiet. Do you want this to work or not?"

"I do."

"Then listen to me carefully. There are some ground rules. Firstly, you need to play nice. No name calling, no stereotypical passive aggression, no calling things stupid or silly. You need to respect what we do because it works for your husband. You've seen how it works for your husband, have you not?"

"I have."

"Good. Meet me at my apartment at 7:30 and wear the tightest clothes you own." Devon hung up. Ana was in shock and put the phone down.

"What did she say?" asked Mark.

"She said for us to meet her at her place and for me to wear the tightest things I own. At 7:30," said Ana in a daze. Mark and Ana spent the day closer to each other than they had ever been. They were both so nervous about the same thing, at least they had that in common. Even Mark's pacing and nervous ticking and shifting didn't seem to bother Ana like it used to. She was doing a little of the same herself. They shared lunch together. Ana actually asked Mark about the book he was reading and when Mark babbled on about it's really about the nature of religion and the struggle of power over limited resources she actually asked him another question about it and said it was "kinda like oil in Iraq or wherever." When it came time to get ready for Devon's house Mark's anxiety began to rise. He'd be forced to choose between women that night, between the woman who really loved him, all of him, and his wife, who seemed to only love his job, which she didn't even fully comprehend. But his wife did seem different. She was listening to him about his book. And she didn't get annoyed at him for being so nervous that day. He seemed more bound to her, with this common anxiety. He wanted to do the right thing. What he was supposed to do. He wanted to be a good person. Ana was instructed to wear the tightest things she owned so, naturally, those were Ana's work out clothes. She put on a hot pink top and orange capris.

"I don't think that's what she meant," said Mark and he helped her select one of her more form fitting dresses. It still wasn't tight. And her highest heels were two inches, but they'd have to do. They got in the car and held hands on the drive to Devon's home. They parked their car, walked up to the second floor and knocked on the door. It was 7:37. A woman opened the door.

"You're late!" she exclaimed. She had a flawless body in every way. Long slender but muscular legs, rounded hips, a tiny waist, massive breasts and a beautiful face. Was this woman really after her Mark? Ana suddenly felt self conscious about the way she was dressed, in a bias cut dress and two inch heels, a stark contrast to Devon's leather thigh high boots with spike heels, red latex stockings, a red latex camisole with garters and a black leather waist cincher over everything. She wore a leather g-string over everything as well. "Come inside." And they both followed her in, Mark having been there numerous times, Ana never before. She led them into the living room. 

"Ana, you're familiar with the terms of Dominance and submission, right?" asked Devon.

"Yes, my husband and I were read-"

"Yes or no answers are fine. And you've been made aware that your husband is submissive?"

"Yes," Ana responded.

"And that this brings him tremendous relief, this restriction?"

"Yes,"

"Tonight, under my guidance, your husband will submit to you and you will have gained a better understanding of who you are to each other." Ana thought this lady sounded creepy. Devon produced Mark's collar. "This is Mark's collar. Place it around his neck."

"A collar? This is-"

"I said play nice, remember?" Devon asked. Ana placed the collar around Mark's neck. Mark never felt so close to his wife. Devon never looked so beautiful either, dominating them both like that. She had full control over the situation. 

"You need to tell Mark what to do. This gives him permission to act out his fantasies." Mark had no fantasies about his wife, but he hoped that would change. "Once he has permission," Devon continued, "he is more relaxed, suave even. You'll see. Pull that chain. Tell him what to do with your dress."

"I hardly think that's appropriate in front of you," Ana snapped.

"I hardly find this entire arrangement appropriate. However, I want Mark to be happy, so here we are. In my house. Under my rules. You want to 'fix' your husband? You do exactly as I say, when I say it." Devon was speaking with clenched teeth.

"All right. Okay," Ana said. She stalled a bit. "Take... take off my dress."

"You have to be more authoritative than that," replied Devon, "and more specific. How do you want him to take off your dress. Mark felt like an object in the room.

"I want you to pull my dress slowly over my head and throw it across the room," Ana said. Her voice was changed. It was lower, stiffer.

"Gooood," Devon said. Mark did as he was told. Devon watched both her possessions do as they were told. "Now tell him what you would like him to do with your hair."

"I want you to run your fingers through my hair. I want you to massage my scalp. I want you to completely mess my hair." This was a side of Ana Mark had never seen before. This just might work. Ana was surprised at herself. Under Devon's guidance she was able to perform as a Dominant just fine. She kind of liked it. She could see herself doing this. "I want you to squeeze my breasts first then unhook my bra but leave it on."

"Excellent!" Devon exclaimed. "Now you're getting creative." Devon paced in her boots around them on the hard wooden floors, viewing them from all angles her spike heels occasionally dragging, indicating her saunter, her cool control over the situation. "Tell him to remove your bra." Mark did without Ana telling him to, at Devon's command. This somewhat perturbed Ana, but she was rather enjoying this more suave husband of hers, so it didn't bother her too much. Ana's breasts were no match to Devon's. Ana's sunk low on her chest cavity and always had the appearance of being depleted. Devon's were always high, rounded, and full. Mark paid special attention to them just the same.

"Tell him. I want to hear you tell him to remove your panties and how," Devon sneered.

"I want you to take both your hands and run them down my sides until I can step out of my panties."

"Good enough," Devon said. And Mark followed his directions.

"And I want you to lick my pussy on the way up," Ana added.

"How?" Devon jumped in.




Switch



"Really hard?" said Ana. Devon sighed and gestured at Mark as if to say, "Go ahead," and Mark went ahead and followed his directions.

"You might want to put one foot on his shoulder," Devon recommended. Ana did as she was told, put one foot on her husband's shoulder and was shocked at how skilled he was. She leaned forward. Devon took a few steps towards her and behind her and paddled her once on the rear.

"What was that for?" Ana asked, outraged. Mark never looked away from his duties.

"I was wondering how that felt for you."

"It hurt," Ana responded.

"I know it hurt, but did it feel nice?"

"Not in the least," Ana said and returned to feeling her husband going down on her and had a change of heart. "You know. I think we've learned all we need from you here." She put her dress on, clenched her purse, and said, "C'mon Mark."

Mark said, "Just give me a few." Ana sighed and left to the car. 

Mark turned to Devon and sincerely said, "Thank you."

"Please leave, Mark." Mark left.

Ana and Mark drove home together that evening. Ana noticed the effects of that evenings events on her husband. 

"So that really works on you?" she asked.

"Yes it does," Mark said, with a hint of defensiveness. 

"I can do that." And they shared a smile on the way home. The next night Ana wore a pair of tight skinny jeans and a bustier along with some spiky heels she purchased. They tried the events of the previous evening together. Alone this time. Without Devon's guidance this time. "Take off my pants," Ana would say, and Mark struggled with them over her heels. She wore somewhat sexy lingerie underneath. Mark wondered how long that would last, how long she would keep up the act. She told him, "Lick my nipples." He did. It was anticlimactic for them both. She was running out of ideas of what to tell him to do. "Lick my nipples, lick my pussy, what else is there?" Meanwhile Mark was sitting obediently in his collar, the chain to which was lying on the floor, unattended to. Mark felt ill at ease. He felt uncomfortable. He didn't feel 'fixed.' He didn't feel like he was getting his fix. He knew right then and there it wasn't going to work with his wife, but he gave it another week. Ana continually tried to be a Dom and continually ran out of ideas and made Mark feel uncomfortable. Finally, Mark had enough.

Fuck doing the right thing, Mark wanted to do the wrong thing. Fuck what you are supposed to do. His wife spent her entire life doing what she was supposed to do and look where it got her. Fuck being a good person, he wanted to be a good little boy. He took off his collar and threw it in a bag. He threw some shirts and pants in a bag.

"What -what are you doing?" Ana asked.

"I'm leaving. You never loved me. You never will." And with that Mark never said another word to Ana. Only through his lawyer. Ana was unkind to Mark in many ways. She misunderstood him in so much of his life, his love of Science Fiction, of Tango, his intellect. But there was a part of her that wanted to ease his tension. Not out of love, but out of a self serving need to fix the husband she had chosen for herself, for her perfect little middle class life. And ultimately, she couldn't handle what it took to fix him, to alleviate his stresses. She was too normal, she was too insipid, she was too biscuit.

Mark went straight to Devon's apartment from the house with his bag. Devon knew immediately what had happened when she saw him and let him right in. She was relieved to see him. She was not the wrong choice for him. She was not the wrong woman. But now was the tine to come clean. Now was the time to tell Mark everything.

"Mark. Now that you're here there's something I need to tell you," said Devon.

"You're not seeing someone else. If you've already started seeing someone else I understand. You're a very beautiful woman and a really good dancer. It's not Bob is it? I just really had hoped that we could be together."

"No stop. It's not that. Exactly. An ew. No. It's not Bob."

"What are you talking about?" asked Mark.

"Well, you know how being submissive is a release for you? A release of tension? Relief from your anxieties?"

"Yeah."

"It's the same way for me."

"What do you mean it's the same way for you? How do you know it's the same way for you? Is there some other guy out there that you're being submissive with? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No. Not exactly. It's a woman. I pay her," Devon said.

"You pay a prostitute?"

"No not a prostitute. A female Dom. She's in the neighboring town. There's no sex involved. Just Dominance and submission. That's it. It's a relief from all the pressures for me. She's highly trained." Mark sat quietly. He felt betrayed.

"It doesn't matter that there isn't any sex. To know someone as a submissive is to know someone in intimate sexual ways. To have someone be your Dom is to have that person be the one and only object of your desire. In a sense, in many ways, you are cheating on me," Mark accused.

"I need to do this. I am not crossing the boundary of sex with this woman, but this is something that I need. Something you can't give me. And, as your Dom, this is a way you can never see me. Never." Mark sat quietly. "There's no sex. If you want to be with me, you have this part of me. Remember that I love you," Devon reassured, "She's got a PhD in psychology. She's like a therapist." Somehow, that made it all sound better, he remembered all the 'therapy' he'd received from Devon. He understood what she might be going through. He grabbed her hand.

"Okay. How often?" he asked.

"Twice a month. For an hour."

"That is like therapy," Marked commented. "I love you too."

During these sessions Devon had to do much of the same things Mark had to do for her. She had to lick the Dom's boots. The Dom wore squeaky, shiny boots and Devon particularly liked this. The Dom was particularly fond of and well versed in suspension bondage and that always made Devon feel quite beautiful to hang there, exposed and vulnerable to any onlooker or passer by. Devon's absolute favorite, the activity to which she looked forward the most, was spanking. Devon loved to get paddled. After a paddling Devon would run to the mirror, lift up her skirt, pull her panties down (she always dressed demurely for these sessions), and inspect her red ass, caressing its inflamed skin as if it were a delicacy. This was a side of Devon Mark would never see, a side Mark could never see, or she would loose all control over him. But she had to tell him about it to maintain an open and honest relationship with him. He took it well. They were together now. They could find a new place together. The appliances could be turquoise. 

Mark and Devon made a home together in a neighboring town. They practiced a BDSM lifestyle daily. They had a turquoise vintage style kitchen, a red leather sofa, and gold sheets on their bed. Seeing as how Ana was out of the picture, they were able to resume Tuesday night Tango lessons in addition to Thursday night ones.



Switch



John knew his ass was buttermilk, no doubt at all. His wife Carol was going to kill him. 

His mind flashed back to the day before. He had gone to the airport to pick Carol up, arriving right on time.

He was standing there pissed off because he couldn't have a smoke, when he looked up and there stood Sandy. 

Sandy and her husband Darin lived a few hundred miles away in Lewiston, what the hell was she doing in Portland?

Sandy came over and gave him a big hug like she always did.

"Somehow we made a mistake, Carol's suitcase and mine look just alike. She must have had my ticket and I ended up with hers, we got on the wrong planes."

John thought about that for a second, Carol he knew was about three points above her bowling ball in IQ but Sandy had always seemed on the bright side?

Yet both of them, getting on the wrong airplane?

Hell, there were signs everywhere, announcements over loudspeakers?

What in the hell was going on? And where was his wife, Carol?

Four days gone off to Reno, at least he thought that was where they had gone anyway. Like most men, John never really paid a hell of a lot of attention when his wife said anything to him.

It was easier to just nod and go on with what he was doing.

Why they would head off to some stupid bowling tournament that even if they won first place the prize wouldn't pay for the hotel room was beyond him. It was always supposed to be one charity or another, John suspected that someone, somewhere was getting their BMW payment made.

Oh, well. They went off to bowl every year and it made Carol happy. Then Carol would get home, and knowing four whole days with no pussy meant John would be hornier than a three peckered billy goat in a herd of yearling Ewes, she would spend hours seeing to it that he was happy. Of course Carol was so horny by then herself that she would be sitting bouncing her legs, letting her thighs rub together on the plane ride home.

Her hands would be on him as soon as they got into the car, and a few times they didn't even make it all the way home.

That vision brought a grin to John's face.

Carol might be on the dumb as a rock side but she more than made up for it in being a very good and fun wife, she loved John and she loved sex.

Damn did she love sex!

Sometimes he wondered how she was always faithful, all John needed to do was whisper some naughty things in her ear and her eyelids would narrow, if he kept it up for very long she would just go off like a firecracker, it was really amazing!

The woman could orgasm without even being touched!

Yet he knew for a fact that Carol was faithful, she was almost never out of his sight.

Except for the bowling trips to Reno, Texas, Florida, every year someplace. Reno seemed to be the destination a lot of the time, though.

John discovered the way she was early on when they first started dating. They were out on the dance floor, since they had had a few heavy petting sessions by then and he was making pretty good progress, he commented on her dress. They were getting to be nicely familiar by then.

She smiled when he said he liked it, then she got a funny look when he teasingly mentioned her nipples made bumps in the cloth. The reaction was so interesting he kept on, talking about how her nice big breasts swayed when she moved. When he said something about how good it felt when she had had his cock in her hands the night before, she began to tremble.

Her hands went down to the front of her dress with a mind of their own, right out there on the dance floor. She was actually rubbing herself through her clothes, and people began to take notice.

Next her eyelids started to flutter and her mouth came open, so John grabbed her arm and they got the hell out of there before someone said something. In the car, she had his cock out of his pants in seconds, her other hand shoved between her legs. 

John replaced her hand with his own, Carol's legs slid open and her hips started to move with a mind of their own. She was sloppy wet, her button huge and rubbery feeling.

John had slid over to try and get into position to stick himself in there but she squirmed away, somehow even in the throes of an orgasm she managed to stop him from actually fucking her.

The first time they did it was the night they got married. John didn't know if she was a virgin or not, he didn't ask. There was no blood but that doesn't really mean anything.

He also didn't care about that, he wasn't one either. What she did do was pounce on him and get his cock inside her so fast he almost didn't get it all the way up. Once it was all right for them to have sex she was in a huge hurry.

Her orgasm was instant, and it kept right on. John really couldn't be proud of their first time, he had managed to last maybe 15 seconds, but Carol didn't mind, John was young and strong and there was plenty left.

One amazingly sexual woman, John loved that.

Add in that she could cook so well that dinners were nearly always close to magic, and she hated dirt with a passion so the house was always squeaky clean? It kept John nice and close to home.

John couldn't have managed an affair even if he wanted to, Carol never left him with anything extra.

Unless she was off on one of her trips.

So much as he liked Sandy, he knew that the boner he had already developed in his pants in anticipation of Carol getting home would just have to wait.

John reached down and grabbed the suitcase when it came down the conveyor, glancing at the name tag. It was Carol's, all right.  He picked it up and flipped the stupid little wheels down, thinking once again that he should do something about marketing the belt with the tow hitch behind he had designed.

Obvious as hell to him, a nice wide belt with a clip, tow the thing along behind, it kept the hands free for neat things like cell phones and other stuff.

None of this walking sideways with one arm stretched out behind crap.

He had even taken the idea to a marketing company, but they just laughed at him.

He shook his head, every time he saw one of those silly suitcases with wheels his idea popped into his head. The idea had to be worth millions of bucks.

Then he was thinking he should call Carol. He didn't own a cell phone, so he looked around for a pay phone but didn't see any.

Hell with it, he would call her from the house.

John turned his attention to Sandy, he did have that bad habit of letting his mind wander off in all directions.

"Where do you want me to take you?" He asked her, wanting to get rid of her so he could go take things in hand, he just wasn't going to last another whole day without doing something.

"There is a flight to Lewiston tomorrow afternoon, I can just take that and be home by evening. Can I stay at your place until then?" She tipped her head and gave him an expectant look.

John nodded, no problem there. He and Carol had plenty of room and a spare bedroom, Darin and Sandy had stayed over before, and John and Carol had stayed with them a few times.

Sandy and his wife had gone to school together, they remained lifelong friends. When Sandy got married they met Darin, and he fit in like he had known them all his life.

Darin was an inch taller and a very physical looking guy, John was heavier and had the beginnings of a middle aged belly. But oddly, John nearly always won their golf games, and his average at bowling was 15 pins higher than Darin's. Darin was losing his hair and John had every single one he was born with, there was no end to the good natured ribbing about that.

He looked over at Sandy as they walked toward the car out in the parking lot. She was really pretty, and in the same good shape that Darin was. She was dressed in what looked to be a conservative business suit with a vest, covering a simple white blouse open at the throat.

She had looked the same for the dozen years or so he had known her. Carol, on the other hand, found 10 pounds somewhere and rounded up even more than she was when he had first dated her. She was just a tiny bit soft even then, and she got softer as time went on.

John didn't mind that one bit, in fact, he loved bouncing her big boobs around, doing that until Carol would start giggling. Then she would reach out and grab his dick and engulf it, lord did Carol like to do that.

Probably because she knew John would return the favor, sliding his lips over her huge clitoris made her go just plain nuts. He could actually suck the thing into his mouth, it was as big as the end of his thumb.

John shook his head, his mind had wandered off again. He gave Sandy a sidelong glance, hoping she wouldn't notice that he was sporting some serious wood but she was watching a big plane come in.

He took the opportunity to look her up and down, Sandy was smaller in the bust than Carol and quite a bit more slender.

He often looked her over when Sandy and Darin were visiting, she really was an attractive woman. Sandy had caught him at that a few times, but she would just give him a lazy smile. Darin sometimes looked Carol over also, but then Carol had no way to hide her great big melons and had long since given up on even trying, so John was used to men looking at her.

Arriving at the car, John tossed Carol's suitcase in the back and touched the key fob to unlock the doors. Sandy slid in, they drove out of the lot and headed towards his house near the river east of Portland. They drove in silence.

As John was carrying the suitcase in, he asked her again how in the world they had ended up on the wrong airplanes?

"We were talking on the cell phones, just not paying attention I guess. The gates were right next to each other, I got the ticket out the suitcase and saw the gate number on the boarding pass so that is where I went."

John nodded, Carol usually had her cell phone in her hand talking to someone.

Oh, well. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and flopped down in his chair. Sandy knew her way around so no problems there.

She went into the spare bedroom and was in there for maybe 30 minutes. Then she peeked out the door.

"John?" 

"Yea?"

"Can I maybe borrow one of Carol's robes or something?"

"Why, don't you have...oh, right! Hey, maybe she has something in her closet in there?" 

"All I see are some dresses, they are way too big for me."

"OK. I need to come in there and take a look, are you decent?"

"Some guys think I look pretty decent." She giggled.

"Just a sec, let me grab a towel."

John waited a moment, Sandy opened the door, one of their bath towels wrapped snugly around herself. The bottom of it came down just barely enough, he noticed she really had nice legs but did his best to keep a straight face.

He rummaged around, realizing Carol didn't have any robes. She did have a couple of nightgowns, both hid nothing at all so he really couldn't hand Sandy one of those. He picked one up and looked at it, it might as well be clear plastic wrap. John snickered to himself at the idea of handing that to Sandy, but thought better of it.

Glancing back at Sandy, she was looking at him holding the sheer skimpy garment, she just grinned at him. John flushed and put it away.

"How about one of my T-shirts?" He asked.

"Sure, that should be fine. All I have here is the clothes I have on."

John knew Carol kept those in the hallway closet, he went to get one.

She was peeking around the door when he came back with the shirt, he noticed her hair was still wet.  John could see her bare arm and shoulder. She smiled, then giggled as he handed her the T-shirt and went back to his chair.

He barely got sat down when the phone rang, it was Carol.

"We did the silliest thing!" She giggled.

"Yea, I figured that out when Sandy got off the plane instead of you." He told her.

"Darin was there, so I will just stay at their house until tomorrow. I can get a flight out in the morning. Where did you take Sandy?"

"She is here, she is taking a shower. I let her use one of your T-shirts, I couldn't find a robe."

"I don't have any robes, there are some nightgowns."

"Honey, those nightgowns are kinda see through." John said.

"Yea, I guess. But who knows, maybe she would like them. Hey I bet you would sure like them on her, wouldn't you?" Carol giggled at that.

"Yea, probably." John laughed. "So what time do I pick you up?" 

"About one PM, I already have the ticket."

"Good, I need to get Sandy to the airport before then so I can send her back to Darin."

"OK. Well, I love you honey!" Carol said.

"I love you too babe!" He told her.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She giggled again and hung up.

Now what in the hell did she mean by that? He thought. He dismissed it, probably just a silly wisecrack.

Just then Sandy came out. She had a small towel and was rubbing her hair furiously, making her titties jiggle. The T-shirt was a full two sizes too big for her but it covered her to mid thigh. She sat down on the couch across from John and continued rubbing her hair. John realized the dark shadow he could see where the hem of the T-shirt crossed her legs wasn't a dark shadow.

He felt his face flush and looked away. She caught his look, realized.

"Oh! Sorry, John." She smiled and closed her legs, that didn't help much. It also didn't help much that her nipples were making serious bumps in the cloth, too. John felt himself getting a hardon. He did his best to control what was a losing battle, finally he turned sideways and brought his leg up to try and hide it.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Johnny?" Sandy asked. Her voice took on a sudden change.

She never called him Johnny, either.

"I....sorry, it's just that Carol has been gone for four days now and...." John let his voice trail off, felt his face flush.

"Oh, you poor thing. I better not tease you or I would need to help you out, wouldn't I?" She hesitated.

John looked up at her in surprise.

"In fact, I guess I probably should." She stood up. Now the hem of the T-shirt was very high. Sandy had a wicked grin on her face.

John stared as her hands came down, her fingertips took hold of the bottom of the T-shirt, she slowly slid it upwards to her waist.

She was naked underneath, her pubic hair was dark, fairly short.

"I didn't have time to get it waxed, things were pretty hectic before we left." She smiled sweetly.

John couldn't stop himself from looking, her bare lower body was blatantly on display. He felt his face flush and now he was fully erect.

"This isn't any mistake, is it?" John asked her.

She shook her head no, walked towards him. That all seemed to be in slow motion to John. She knelt down, reached up and undid the catch on his pants. Then she stood and tugged them off. In one quick motion she pulled the T-shirt over her head, baring her smallish breasts. The nipples were tiny and dark, fully erect. 

Next she climbed up on top of him, one knee on each side, blatantly opening herself to his view. Her inner lips had a darkish hue to them, fading to pink. John had no way to stop himself from staring at the display.

Her hands went inside the opening of his boxer shorts. The sparse hairs around her pussy did nothing to hide her lips, they were open and slick looking.

John just sat there staring at Sandy's naked pussy, he had no will to resist what she was doing.

"Carol wasn't kidding, you are about as long as Darin but it's twice as big around!" She let out a little gasp as she began to play with his cock.

"You guys talk about our dicks?" John managed to her, surprised.

"Sure, it's just girl talk." Her hand was pumping him furiously now.

"Sandy..." He tried again, but she leaned forward and slid her lips over the head of his cock. John couldn't pull back, his behind was already pressed firmly against the chair.

His head began to swim.

"Sandy, we shouldn't. I don't think this is a good...." John started to say, but Sandy lifted up and set down on him. He felt himself slide inside with no resistance at all. She was already completely wet. Sandy leaned forward against him, pressing her breasts to his chest. Her nipples were like needles poking him through his shirt, his hands went to her ass with a mind of their own.

It was far too late to protest. John lifted his hips, began to try and stuff himself as far in there as he could reach.  He needed to be in her, feel her vagina wrapped around him like a tight glove, any resistance was now gone.

It was awkward as hell to do in the chair, so he leaned forward and picked her up, laying her back on the carpet.

He began to pound her with no mercy, stopping once to pull out and remove his briefs. Then he shoved himself right back in, Sandy released a loud grunt as he did. He was mauling her tits with his hands, pounding away as she lifted her hips to thrust right back at him, then he felt her convulse and he went right with her. 

John lay there on top of her for quite awhile. After a few minutes, he felt himself soften and slip out, so he leaned back and stood up. He felt dizzy, that had all happened pretty fast. He had often had the thought of wondering what it would be like to fuck her, but he had never made any effort at all to do that.

Now she has simply pulled off the T-shirt and fucked him instead. It was not something that John would have ever dreamed of doing. Not cheat on Carol, certainly not with her very best friend!

But he had, my God! His mind filled with remorse.

Sandy lay there on the carpet, staring upwards at his still half swollen cock, his big hairy balls hanging there. She had her legs open, he looked down to see a dribble of his sperm slip out of her. The sight made his cock twitch upward again, John felt another flash of shame at that.

He turned away from her lying there as it completely registered on him what he had just done. Plus if Sandy was here, and he was fucking her, that meant that Carol was miles away in Lewiston and probably fucking...Darin?

He felt a flash of anger flood over him at that thought, then his own guilt returned. 

But there was no way in the world would Carol actually do that. Sure, she would tease, and she was famous for making sexy jokes but that was about it.

"Are you upset, John? I thought you would like it, we have been friends for so long and never had sex?"

"I have always been faithful to Carol." John told her, some bitterness in his voice.

She flushed at his tone, sat up.

"I stay faithful to Darin, too, but Carol and I were talking. She thought it would please you and since we are all such good close friends...?" Her voice trailed off, her arm came up to cover her breasts instinctively.

"I think you had better get dressed, I shouldn't have...we shouldn't have..."

"All right. I don't see why you are upset, it was just for some fun and you sure seemed willing a few minutes ago."

"I don't cheat, at least I never did before."

"Really? That's interesting, most men...well. I guess most do, massage parlors and stuff like that.  Darin said you guys looked like you were in a rut and this would spice things up."

Massage parlors? John had never been in one in his life. And Darin said what?

"I think it will just cause trouble. I had better call Carol."

Sandy went into the bedroom, John heard the shower start again. He ran a dozen different ways to tell Carol what had just happened through his mind.

Finally he dialed the phone.

"Hi, Honey! What's up?" Carol's happy voice answered almost instantly.

"Sandy was telling me that you two were talking?"

"Yea? About what?" 

"Carol, you know damn good and well what! This wife swapping stuff."

"Oh, that. We got a little bit tipsy and were talking, we thought it would be nice, I know you like her. It's not any big deal, besides, she told me that Darin sometimes goes to one of those massage places? So she was thinking if it was between friends, that would be lots better?"




Switch



"Well, I never did go to any of them, and there isn't any difference, and what in the hell are you doing listening to Sandy?"

"That was only girl talk, we talk about everything. I'm sorry, honey. I should have said something to you about it first, I guess."

"I think it will change everything, I love you and I want to be with you."

"OK. I guess you are probably right."

"There is one other thing, honey. Sandy..she...I...it happened."

There was a long silence.

"Already? We haven't even had dinner yet here?" Carol's voice changed.

"Honey, I am sorry. Things got out of..."

Sandy walked out of the bedroom, she had her clothes back on.

"Is that Carol? Let me talk to her." John handed her the phone. Sandy sat down, John went into the bathroom and took a shower myself.

They were still talking when he came back out. Sandy looked up at him and smiled.

"OK. I will tell him, see you tomorrow." Then she hung up.

"Is she mad?" John asked.

"No. She said it was her own fault and she doesn't blame you."

John felt a small relief at that, he was worried about his wife's reactions, he was even more upset about his own. Their life together was far too good to risk on something as silly as this.

"So what are you going to do?" Sandy asked him.

"Nothing, I guess. We can't take that back."

"There is no harm done, Johnny. Besides, I have wanted to try you out for years now." She grinned at him.

John blushed from the top of his head to the tip of his toes at that. The vision of her standing up and exposing her lower body flashed into his mind, he felt himself begin to react at the thought. He tired to force the thought out of his mind, but it was too late.

"You liked it, didn't you?" Sandy's voice took on a sultry tone.

"Well, yea, sure. But...."

"We can do it some more if you want to, it's already too late so why not?" She grinned at him.

"I can't, I don't think..."

"Carol won't mind."

"Why would Carol not mind?" John got a sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Last year, we were at the tournament. Darin flew down."

John stared at her.

"You know how Carol gets when you tease her with any kind of sexy talk?"

John knew that about his wife very well, it was something he used often in their own bedroom, and he had teased Carol to get a reaction out of her even out in public, and often when Darin and Sandy were around.

"She didn't, you guys didn't...?

"Yes. We did. Darin started to tease her for fun and we all got carried away. She couldn't figure out how to tell you, so this is her way of making it up to you."

"She didn't!" That somehow did not ring true to him.

"Oh, yes she did."

John felt his world feel like it was coming apart. Carol? With Darin? And nearly a full year ago, he had no idea. He stared at Sandy for a few seconds.

"I wouldn't mind another session with you, Johnny. It won't matter anymore." She smiled and got up, started towards him.

"Sandy, there is no way in hell! I already made one stupid mistake, I'm not going to make things worse." He held his hands up, palms out to stop her.

Sandy got a hurt look on her face but she didn't say anything. John turned and went to his bedroom, closed the door.

He lay there awake for a long time, half expecting Sandy to come in but she didn't.

The next day he drove Sandy to the airport, she was quiet until just as they got there.

"Please don't tell Carol anything I told you, OK?" She said finally. That sounded odd to John.

Something just was not ringing true, Carol was always open and honest with him, there just was no way she would have an affair.

John nodded, he intended to do exactly that. It was obvious that he and his wife needed to have a talk.

He watched as Sandy went up the steps to the airport lobby, in a half hour he saw Carol come out and look around. She spotted their car out in the parking lot, smiled and waved. Then she walked quickly over to him, gave him a big hug.

The ride home was frustrating, Carol was oddly silent. Finally he asked her straight out when he shut the car off at their house.

"How in the hell did you end up on the wrong airplane?"

"I don't know for sure, I didn't even realize until we were halfway there and I heard the captain announce it."

"What happened up there?"

"Nothing, we talked and had a visit, watched TV."

"Just talked, that's all?"

"Yes, pretty much." She had her face turned away when she said that.

"I will bet he wanted to."

"Yes, he did. This was all a mistake, Sandy and I talked about it before is all. I'm really sorry, honey." Then she started to cry.

John felt more confusion, why would she be crying? Perhaps because he had...suddenly he felt miserable.

"Don't cry, babe. I don't know what was up with all that, either. After Sandy told me about you and Darin down at Reno, I didn't know what to think."

"Darin? Reno? Darin never came down to Reno." She looked at him puzzled.

"Last year, she told me?"

"Darin didn't come down last year?"

"He didn't? The three of you never had sex down there?"

"No! He wasn't even there. All I did was bowl and play the machines a little."

John was now confused.

"But Sandy said he was?"

"Well, he wasn't." Carol had a confused look on her face, John knew she was not lying about that.

"Now I don't understand." John now realized that Sandy had lied to him, but why? Then he thought he understood.

Just to make him think it was all right somehow?

What had she said? 

"Don't tell Carol I told you?"

He realized that he did not know Darin and Sandy as well as he thought he did.

"Did Darin try anything while you were up there?"

"Yes. Plus he kept looking at me."

"What do you mean he looked at you?"

"All I had on was Sandy's jammies, they were way too small so I just wore the top part. It's no big deal, he always looks at me like that. Like you look at...Sandy."

"Just great! But I don't look at Sandy." John said with sarcasm.

"Yes, you do! I see that all the time!"

"You were just wearing a tiny pajama top? Did he see you?"

"Oh, it covered me up, besides, I kept them tugged down."

"That's all then?"

"Yes, except he was talking to me, you know how I get."

"Really? What was he saying?"

"He teased me about liking my outfit, trying to get me fussed up but I knew what he was doing."

"So what did Sandy do?" Carol asked him before John could ask the rest of the questions he had in his mind. That flash of guilt poured over him, he decided to just be honest.

"She had on one of my T-shirts and just pulled it up, I tried to stop but it just happened."

"It's OK, Honey. We should have talked first, I'm sorry." She kissed his neck lightly, they stood there quietly for a long time.

"I need to take a shower." She said, letting go and heading for the bathroom.

Later, Carol came out of the bedroom. She snuggled up next to him, he knew what she wanted.

In just a few minutes he had Carol naked, and was making familiar love to her. She pressed happily up against him afterward.

"Johnny?" Her voice was very quiet.

John instantly came alert, Carol seldom called him that.

"What, babe?"

"Am I better than Sandy?" Her voice sounded just a bit timid.

"Way better, no doubt about it at all. That was all over so fast it almost didn't happen."

"Really? I'm sorry it wasn't good for you." Then she giggled, turned her back and curled up.

"I really did think you wouldn't do it. But everything is all right then, I am happy I am better than Sandy, you are way better than Darin." She said softly, almost in sleep.

John shook his head. Yes, dumber than a rock but he really did love this woman. He turned her way, cuddled up, reaching around to gently stroke her bare breasts. Carol was relaxed, slipping into a contented snore.

Then it hit him.

What did she just say?



Switch



It started out like any other time Key and Jounghyun had done this- But this time they took notice of the extra.... unf- the extra passion....

Jonghyun slid his hands up and down Key's arms as the two's lips fled across one another.

"Jonghyun...." Key moaned suddenly and he could feel his lover harden slightly under him at the word before he continued. "Jonghyun.... This would be the third time just today...."

"Actually.... Fourth time." Jonghyun corrected and Key scowled.

"You touching me under the table at dinner doesn't count, Jonghyun...." He glared playfully.

"You got off on it, didn't you?" Jonghyun pointed out and Key pouted at him anxiously.

"See?" Jonghyun chuckled. "So it does count...."

Jonghyun leaned forward again, pressing heavy kisses against Key's throat.

"But Jonghyun...." Key began again.

Suddenly, Jonghyun stripped himself of his shirt and yanked Key into his own hips with a wide smirk.

"Fine then." He smiled. "We'll just stay here like this and I won't do a thing...."

"Jonghyun, no...." Key frowned, but Jonghyun shrugged and turned his attention in the opposite direction.

"Nope. You said 'no' so I won't." He pointed out.

"Well, I..... I changed my mind." Key decided suddenly, but Jonghyun said nothing so he was quick to add on:

"Please Jonghyun.... I want you...."

Jonghyun smirked slightly, but remained a statue underneath Key's fingertips, gazing out the window only a few feet away.

"Fine." Key pouted again, then smirked suddenly, leaning into his lover. "Looks like I'm just gonna have to get your attention the hard way...."

Key let both of his hands drift slowly down to caress Jonghyun's inner thighs slowly.

Jonghyun flinched slightly and his eyes flickered to Key a moment, yet he remained unmoving, still staring out the window.

"Ha.... Like you can fool me for long...." Key smirked. "I can see you're flushing in the mirror, Jonghyun.... You like it, don't you?...."

Suddenly, Jonghyun let his head slowly turn and drift to the wall of mirrors on the far side of the practice room in which they stood.

"Oh common...." Key finally sighed after a long moment. "Don't be such a narcissist...."

Jonghyun glanced over at Key in the reflection and felt himself harden even more at the image.

Key was already a bit sweaty from rehearsal and had taken his shirt off to cool down before meeting up with Jonghyun. His thin, muscular frame was echoed perfectly through the glass and every curve of his body against Jonghyun's seemed almost.... Amplified.... His tight little light gray skinny jeans hugged his hip-bones perfectly to the point where it was hard for Jonghyun to resist the unbelievably strong urge to turn and tear them off of him right then and there....

"Please Jonghyun....?" Key pleaded once more, pressing his own hardening lump against Jonghyun's as he spoke.

Suddenly, Jonghyun turned away to stare out the window once more.

Key glared.

"Fine.... You wanna play hard-ball?" Key smirked. "I'll give you hard-ball...."

Key left one hand to caress Jonghyun's inner thigh, but let the other wonder a bit, up to the top of Jonghyun's pants before pausing.

"Still nothing?" Key frowned. "Alright then.... You know I'll do it....."

Jonghyun didn't move.

"Fine...." Key sighed.

Key let his hand slowly snake it's way into Jonghyun's pants and past his boxers to roam the length of his member.

Jonghyun shuddered, but refused to move.

"I can do this all without you if you'd like...." Key teased. "But it would be more fun with you.... 'helping' me; if you know what I mean...."

Jonghyun shuddered again as Key ran his thin fingers down Jonghyun's length once more.

Finally, he couldn't take it any longer;

Jonghyun snapped, turning quickly in one twirl and pulling Key into him, smashing their lips together and immediately slipping his tongue into the warmth of Key's mouth.

Key moaned slightly with both shock and pleasure as he began stroking Jonghyun harder.

"Jonghyun...." He moaned aloud.

"Key... hold on...." Jonghyun suddenly commanded.

Jonghyun leaned back and undid his belt and pants, quickly stripping them of his body and pressed himself closer to Key.

"Now it's easier...." He smirked. Key stared for a moment before he smirked as well and grabbed for Jonghyun's member once more.

"Ah.... Kibum...." Jonghyun moaned as Key began stroking faster and harder. "Ah.... Ohhh.... Key...."

"Jonghyun...." Key moaned in return.

Key had taken one hand back to start undoing his own pants and slowly stripping them off. Finally, Jonghyun reached down and slid them off of him for him, rubbing his member against Key's as he did so.

"Ah!" Key moaned, head lulling back in both shock and pleasure once again.

Jonghyun inched a finger to Key's entrance and paused.

"Are you ready for this, Key?" He asked suddenly. Key turned his flushed face fully to Jonghyun a moment with a faint smile.

"I always am...." He grinned. Jonghyun took a moment to smile back before slowly pushing one finger into Key's entrance. Key moaned, allowing his head to lull back once more in the pleasure.

Jonghyun roamed inside him slightly before entering another finger.

And another....

And another....

"Ah.... Jonghyun.... Oh...." Key moaned. "I-I.... I'm ready...."

"Are you sure, Kibum?" Jonghyun verified and he nodded.

"Yes...." He panted. "I need you inside me now, Jonghyun...."

Jonghyun hardened even more, though he was sure that was nearly impossible right now, at the statement and pulled his fingers out.

"You look cute in the reflection...." Jounghyun mused as he cornered Key into the mirrors. "Maybe you should watch my image for a little while...."

Key's eyes involuntarily drifted to Jonghyun's reflection as he positioned himself against Key's hips. Though it seemed so wrong, Key couldn't tear his eyes off the image as Jonghyun quickly thrust into him- quick and to the point.... Like always....

Key cried out, finally able to look away from the reflection and grasp tightly onto Jonghyun's hips as he roamed inside of him.

Slowly, Jonghyun picked up pace, thrusting faster and deeper into Key with each push and pull....

"Oh God....Jonghyun!" Key allowed himself to scream the name, knowing full well the room was sound-proof.

Jonghyun smirked in both pride and pleasure when suddenly;

Key pressed a hand to Jonghyun's chest and he paused.

"Can I.... Can I do it?" He finally asked, still panting wildly. "At least... at least until we both come?"

Jonghyun stared at Key a moment from his odd request before nodding.

"If you want to.... I don't mind...." Jonghyun shrugged, pulling himself out of Key once again. "Although..... I've always been on top.... I don't know what to do...."

"Neither do I...." Key chuckled. "I've always been bottom.... But.... But I wanna give it a try.... Please? All you have to do is sit there and take it...."

Jonghyun smirked.

"Kinky." He teased and Key rolled his eyes.

"We've done this enough that I think we can do it either way by now..... right?" He pointed out and Jonghyun nodded in return.

"Of course...." He grinned. "It'll be just fi-"

But Jonghyun's words were cut off by a ripple of pleasure that shot through him as Key entered one, thin finger inside of him.

"Ah! Key...." Jonghyun moaned as Key entered another.... And another....

"You ready?" Key finally asked and Jonghyun nodded.

"Is it bad?" Jonghyun asked as the two switched places and Jonghyun became the one cornered in the glass.

"It feels like heaven if you give it a minute...." Key explained. "You won't want it to stop.... But.... It stings a little the first time.... Ready?"

Jonghyun nodded and copied Key, glancing into the mirror. His eyes drifted to Key as he slowly pushed himself into Jonghyun.

It was an odd feeling that erupted a loud moan in the depth of Jonghyun's chest and his head lulled back, banging slightly into the mirrors as Key quickly picked up pace.

"Oh God, Key...." Jonghyun moaned. "How can you hold out so long...."

"I could ask you the same question...." Key panted, bucking his hips into Jonghyun. "But don't come yet.... We're not done.... Right....?"

Jonghyun smirked.

"You wanna finish up like normal?" He asked and Key nodded, pulling himself out of Jonghyun once more.

"That's fucking tiring...." He sighed.

Jonghyun chuckled and picked Key up by the waist as he sat down on top of the table on the side of the room. Key wrapped his legs around Jonghyun as he leaned back, positioning himself against Key once more.

"Just go right in...." Key directed. "I'm still okay from a moment ago...."

Jonghyun nodded, immediately thrusting himself into Key once more. He wasted no time in picking up speed as Key cried out, his moans and Jonghyun's grunts echoing against their sweaty images in the glass.

"Jonghyun...." Key moaned loudly. "I'm gonna-"

But before Key could even finish his sentence, he erupted all over Jonghyun's bare stomach and Jonghyun, with the constriction of Key's insides against his member, quickly came inside of Key almost simultaneously.

There was a long silence as the two lay on top of one another, panting loudly.

"That one was good." Key smirked, leaning back up and out of Jonghyun to search for his clothes.

"Best of the day, I'd say." Jonghyun grinned in return, following after his lover.

Key found and picked up his pants and boxers, but the second he stood completely, Jonghyun's arms were wrapped around his naked waist from behind. He pressed his lips gently to the base of Key's throat and smiled,trailing his kisses up his neck and to his cheek. Finally, Key turned and their lips met delicately for a moment before they leaned away once more, Jonghyun smiling delicately into Key's eyes.

"I love you, Kim Kibum...." He hummed. Key smiled back, kissing Jonghyun lightly in return.

"I love you too, my dear Jonghyun.... Always...."

THE END 



Switch



I've been going steady with Ian for several months now. We sort of hooked up just before my nineteenth birthday and have been going out together ever since. When I say going out with him I mean just that. It's not an euphemism for sleeping with him, although I do know that's on his agenda.

He's male. How could it not be on his agenda? And, to be honest, it's been my ambivalence that has stopped us going to bed. I like Ian, but. . 

Ask me to put a finger on the cause of the 'but' and I wouldn't be able to answer, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Until I resolve my feelings, and that 'but', I'm keeping my legs crossed, so to speak.

On this particular day we'd gone to the beach. It was a lovely sunny day, far too good to waste at home. After we arrived at the beach we ran into several other friends of ours; not surprising on a day like this.

So we stuffed around, swimming, sunbathing, playing with a stupid ball, more swimming and more sunbathing. When Ian suggested we go for a walk for a little private time I was quite willing. I knew damn well that what Ian wanted was to get me to a slightly more secluded area, hoping he could seduce me. A man probably assumes that, when all that the woman is wearing is a brief bikini, if he has a little privacy then he also has a better chance of arranging for her not to be wearing that brief bikini. 

As far as I was concerned, Ian was on a loser. I had no intention of letting him seduce me in the dunes, but it could be a bit of fun letting him make the effort. I might even let him take off my top. Might, and that would be as far as it went.

We faded into the dunes and Ian just happened to know of a nice convenient spot where we could sit and sunbathe a little more privately. Like with your top off, hint, hint. I agreed to sunbathe, but the top stayed on. He'd have to be more persuasive than that.

So we sat and sunbathed, and we kissed a little. Ian's hands showed a distressing tendency to wander. Isn't in strange how a perfectly normal looking man can seem to have more arms than an octopus when he's alone with a woman. 

There we were, sitting, kissing, fending off groping hands with a giggle, light-heartedly enjoying ourselves. Eventually I managed to miss noticing Ian's hand at the back of my neck, and I gave an embarrassed squeal when he managed to untie the bow and my top drifted down, revealing my breasts.

I have quite nice breasts. I don't sunbathe topless so they're quite pale, a sort of creamy white with pink nipples. Right then my nipples were rather prominent, having appreciated the attention that Ian had been giving them.

I naturally assumed that Ian would want to kiss my breasts now that he had them properly in sight, and I guess I probably would have allowed this, protesting all the time, of course.

Before Ian could start making more serious passes we were interrupted. Some people have no couth. It must have been obvious to even the densest person that Ian and I were having a bit of private time, but my Bete Noire came waltzing up, bold as you please, with Stella, of all people in tow. I'd have thought that Brian had better taste than to go around with Stella.

"Afternoon, Ian, Mich," said Brian in a loud voice. My name is Michelle. I hate being called Mich. That, I suppose, is why Brian does it.

I just gave Brian a nasty look, and I'd be damned if I'd cover my breasts just because he was here. There were a number of women on the beach sunbathing topless, so who cared what he thought.

Ian was polite enough to acknowledge Brian's greeting, but his eyes were all over Stella. I thought my bikini was reasonably brief but, good god, Stella's was so brief it almost didn't exist, and Ian's eyes were almost popping out of his head. That 'but' was suddenly in the front of my mind.

"Sunbathing topless, Mich," drawled Brian. "Daring of you, isn't it?"

I ignored him. No way was I defending myself to Brian, of all people. With someone else I might have laughed or blushed, but where Brian was concerned I was Miss Stoney-Face. 

Not that it worried him at all. He just nudged Stella.

"Hey, Stella, how about you taking of your top and show Ian a real pair of breasts."

And that silly bitch just giggled, reached behind her and just like that her top was off. Like I said, I have nice breasts, but size wise they were not in Stella's class. A cow's udders aren't in Stella's class. Ian, of course was staring at them so hard I thought his eyes would pop.

Stella lifted her breasts and bounced then on her hands and Ian just about melted. I was surprised to see that Brian wasn't looking at them and drooling.

"Not bad, are they, Ian," came Brian's hateful drawl. "Why don't you weigh them in your hands and see how they feel."

Ian, damn him, did so. I couldn't believe it. Here am I, supposed to be his girlfriend, and he's pawing Stella's boobs right in front of me.

"Fun, aren't they," said Brian. "Look, Stella, you can see how much he appreciates them."

Bloody Ian had an erection. He'd been tending towards one while kissing me, but I'd been keeping the heat turned down. After all, I hadn't wanted to have to actively fight him off. Now, he'd laid his hands on Stella and his cock had sprung to attention with an audible twang.

Now I knew Stella had a reputation of being a little free and easy with her charms, but I certainly hadn't expected her to be so free and easy that she'd just reach down and grab a hold of Ian's cock to check it out. I mean, really? There are limits, you know.

Ian, the cretin, was blushing and laughing, and he was certainly not doing anything to fight her off. And then bloody Brian put in his two bobs worth again.

"Geez, Stella. After doing that to a guy you should really do something about it. Why don't you take him over where you can have a little bit of privacy and help him with his little problem?"

Stella said, "Coming?" and tugged Ian's erection. That moron glanced at me, gave me an apologetic shrug, and followed Stella into the dunes for assistance with his little problem.

I was spitting chips. How could Ian do that to me? How could even Brian stoop that low? I just turned and glared at Brian. He just smirked and shrugged.

"Looks like Ian prefers a sure thing rather than having to put some work in seducing you and not being sure he'll succeed."

"How could you do that?" I demanded. "Just palming your girlfriend off to go and service some man just because you ask her to."

"Oh, please," protested Brian. "Acquit me. Stella is not now, never has been, and never will be my girlfriend. She dragged Ian off because she's a nympho. Where she's concerned, I'll pass.

Besides, I've been given to understand that she's currently carrying a dose. 

That being the case, you might find it wise not to let Ian seduce you until after he's been to a doctor."

This time my eyes almost pooped out with shock.

"Stella has a VD and you deliberately sent her off with Ian?"

"I didn't send him off," protested Brian. "He had a free choice. It's not my fault he made the wrong one. I could be wrong about Stella having a dose, after all."

"But you don't think so."

"But I don't think so. Sorry for messing up your potential sex life. I'll make it up to you."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. You didn't mess up my sex life. I had no intension of sleeping with Ian. And what do you mean, you'll make it up to me?"

"I think Ian thought he was on a loser with you, as well, the way he practically leapt on Stella. And I mean that I'll help you with your sex life."

After uttering that bizarre statement Brian suddenly bent down, took hold of my bikini bottom and pulled them, first downwards past my bottom, then up, lifting my legs high into the air as he did so. One moment I was lying there glaring at him and the next I'm naked with my ankles up around my shoulders, completely exposed and helpless.

All I could do was squeal and wriggle a little which accomplished a whole lot of nothing while Brian dropped his own shorts. I could see immediately that he was ready for his own sex life to continue. And there was nothing I could do to stop him.

"Now, Mich, my love," Brian crooned, with this horribly evil smile on his face, "I could just take you like this and there's no way you can stop me, now is there? However, I'm going to be a good sport about this."

With that he moved out from under my legs, letting them drop to the ground, but he was fast enough to make sure one of his legs came down between mine.

"Don't worry, sweet," he continued. "I am going to take you, here and now. I'm just giving you a chance to resist."

Wasn't that nice of him? He was going to rape me, but I was entitled to resist. 

Apparently my idea of resistance and Brian's idea of resistance were two different things. When I tried to scratch and hit him he just caught my wrists and held them above my head. When I tried to bite him, he kissed me. 

Seeing he was only using one hand to hold my wrists, his other hand was free to play with me between my legs, touching and rubbing me. I could feel his erection leaning against me, even if it wasn't trying to come in. I was wriggling and squirming and getting nowhere, fast.

I felt his fingers probing inside me but there was nothing I could do. Then I felt him parting my lips and his cock finally got into the action. I felt him slide it into me, and then he moved his hand away, letting my lips close over him. But I didn't want to close over him, damn it.

I tried to pull away from his erection, but how do you pull away when your bum is pressed hard against the sand. It may feel soft, but there's not much give to it. I clamped down with my internal muscles as a sort of do not enter sign and wriggled from side to side, trying to prevent him from pushing in.

Brian, the miserable swine, just laughed at me. Every time my muscles relaxed he slid in a little deeper. If I twisted about, I couldn't keep my muscles tight. If I stayed still I could keep my muscles tight, but then he had free rein to push hard against my passage, and that seemed to turn my muscles to water. My own body was betraying me.

A little bit at a time Brian was settling into me, and I couldn't stop it. Far too late, I realised why he was willing to have me try to resist. All my struggling and squirming was a real turn on, probably for both of us, but definitely for me.

As he took me I could feel myself getting excited and aroused. I was helpless under him and loving it, damn him. I finally yielded and his cock came marching triumphantly home.

I suppose the smart way to play it from that point on would have been to just lie there like a lump while he had his wicked way, thus depriving him of as much pleasure as possible. Wasn't going to happen. No way. As soon as he was in and moving I was moving just as hard in the opposite direction. 

Brian drove into me and I pushed up hard to meet him. That's the way it was going to be. He pumped me with great enthusiasm, and I wasn't backward about matching him. I mean, if I was going to be raped, I might as well get raped with style. 

His hands closed over my breasts, massaging them, teasing my nipples. Little ripples of excitement travelled down from my breasts, eager to meet up with the waves of excitement rolling out from my loins. Brian's mouth was hot and fierce on mine, tasting me fully.

Time passes slowly on occasions, and this was one of them. I was aware of Brian's hands on my breasts. Not as aware of his hands as I was of his cock destroying my mental and physical stability, but still aware of them in a detached sort of way. I knew that his hands on my breasts meant something more than Brian being intent on pleasuring me.

It finally twigged. If his hands were on my breasts, then he wasn't holding my hands, so I could actually fight him off. Maybe. It turned out my hands were trapped anyway. They'd become all tangled up in his hair for some reason, so all I could do was hold on and ride out the storm. 

The storm wasn't one of those lightning squalls, approaching, hitting and then gone. This storm seemed to have settled in for the long haul. Brian just drilled into me again and again, while I bucked up hard beneath him. I finished up having to wrench my mouth away from his just so I could get enough air to continue. 

I was gasping and making all these funny little sounds as I was slowly carried away by the action, losing track of everything but what our bodies were doing to each other. Or maybe it was more of a case of what Brian's body was doing to mine; subjecting it to the most exquisite torture.

I sort of knew when Brian started speeding up but it didn't really mean much to me at that point. I was so carried away that he could have stood up and trotted down to the beach with me as long as he didn't stop his ravishment. Then Brian was gasping and I felt that splash deep inside me and I just had time to realise that he was ejaculating inside me when I just went up in flames. 

I squealed and I could feel myself clamping down on his cock, trying to hold it deep within me, then a tide of heat just swept over me and dissolved me, leaving me a melted steamy spot on the sand.

When I finally pulled myself together Brian was sitting on the sand next to me, looking smug. I had my bikini back on. I had to give him marks for that. 

"So what are you going to do now?" Brian asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I assume that you came with Ian. Are you going to wait here until Stella finishes with him and go home with him, or are you going to let me take you home?"

Wow, what a great choice. Wait around for the man who dumped me to go and play with a nympho or ask my rapist for a ride home. It turned out I wasn't getting much say in the matter. Brian had apparently posed the question purely for forms sake. He had me on my feet and heading back down to the beach with him before I had a chance to decide either way.

"What on earth makes you think I want you to drive me home," I asked angrily.

"You probably don't," he laughed, "but I figured you want Ian to drive you home even less."

He was right, but that didn't make me any happier. I am so going to get my revenge on that man one of these days. As we drove home I fantasized about sneaking into his bedroom one night and tying him to the bed. Then he could see what it was like to be ravished. I found the prospect oddly appealing.



Switch



My Adventures into becoming a switch were thrust upon me one evening, whilst, after a good seeing too, my boyfriend and I were engaging in pillow talk.

It had been a particularly enjoyable and energetic session, and, as was the norm, I was left feeling deliciously sore. I was bathing in the tender feelings of my spanked ass, which was now resting against the bedsheets, and my throbbing pussy.

I was, and deep down knew, I had always been submissive. 

I don't know when this submissive side had started to shine out, it was over a matter of years, and never with my, now ex, husband. It had been straight up simple,, or to coin a term, vanilla sex with him, and whilst that was and had always had been good, it wasn't mind blowing.

I had started looking into BDSM as research for a piece I happened to be writing, my work had hit a plateau and I had wanted to spice it up. I stumbled across the colourful world of BDSM, and after a few weeks of reading about it, I signed up to a website. From there I took on a lover, and he introduced me to my various kinks. Who ever knew I liked to be spanked with a leather belt. Hard. 

I certainly didn't. 

I also never knew I would adore being tied up, nor would I enjoy being fucked in the ass. It was a revelation. This opened my eyes to a whole new world of desires and needs I had, and from then on I became fully emerged. 

I brought oodles of sex toys, of which my husband was never interested in using. 

I took lovers, but none had the same impact as that first. 

Until, that is I met Charlie. Charlie took me to heights I never thought in a million years I could achieve. It took a while for him to weed out my kinks, but once he did...well, let me just say, that night, and subsequent ones were incredible.

This particular night had been one of pure, unadulterated, raw sex.

We had fucked like never before, and now lay panting side by side.

Charlie's fingers were idly tracing patterns across the base of my spine and we were discussing the recent bout of gymnastics.

"I've never been dominant with anyone before you know Lottie."

This shocked me, as, on this particular day he had been very domineering "Never?"

Charlie shook his head "Never. But I've been submissive."

I sat up and stared at him, was he for real?!

"I like doing it for you though." He said thoughtfully "I know how much it turns you on."

I smiled and kissed his shoulder "So..." I slyly intoned "...tell me about your joys of submission."

He shook his head "I like a women who isn't afraid to ask for what she wants, and takes it..."

"I know what I want!" I said, slightly offended

"I didn't mean it like that Lottie. You're right, you do know what you want, its just you take it in a totally different way."

"I don't think I could ever be domineering, its not in my nature!" I screwed up my nose in distaste

"Oh now you see, I have a totally different view on that."

I raised my eyebrow and Charlie kissed my still screwed up nose. He flipped me on to my back and hovered above me.

"I think you can be dominant. All you have to do is tell me what you want instead of asking for it."

"Yes but that's not me! I'm submissive, always have been."

Charlie nodded his head and pursed his lips. "It doesn't have to be princess."

I smiled contently as his lips descended from my jaw, down my chest and headed towards my breast. I sighed placidly when flesh met flesh and I felt his tongue flick out and work on my nipple. He pulled away slightly and blew hot breath on my now hardened nipple.

"You know how you always want me to bite your nipples harder?" he whispered

I moaned in agreement

"Tell me. Demand it Lottie, take it!"

"Do it!" I cried out.

"Do what?" 

I groaned in frustration

"Bite me. Hard. Now."

Charlie sunk his teeth in my sensitive flesh and I cried out loudly, nearly orgasming there and then. Never had he bitten me so hard before, and taking the lead was totally empowering. I realised then I could have anything I wanted, and boy did I fucking want it. It was like a light switch going off in my mind. Thoughts and demands flooded through me. I could feel him smile around my nipple as he must have felt the subtle shift in out positions.

"Is there anything else Miss wants?" he purred nibbling my skin.

I mused for a moment, I knew exactly what I wanted and I was no longer afraid to ask for it.

"I want your tongue." I stuttered out.

"And where does Miss want my tongue? Here?" His tongue flicked out and lapped at my nipple again "Or here?" I felt his fingers press softly against my clit and instantly could feel my pussy juices flowing,

"Fuck!" I cried out "I want you tongue on my clit."

Charlie nibbled his way down my body and when his tongue reached my sweetest spot I cried out.

"Push your fingers inside me." I demanded.

He probed me with one, then two, then finally three fingers were fully inserted inside my pussy. I felt him flex and the he dove in and started licking my clit furiously.

I came instantly, and with a ferocity I never had before, clamping his fingers deep inside my aching pussy.

"Enough!" I cried out, panting "Good...good boy" I stammered, and felt Charlie smile against my thigh. He made his way up my body and, resting on one arm, hovered above me,

"Enjoy that Mistress?" he smirked

"You can wipe that smile off your face" I bit back "You are far from finished."

Charlie dropped his head and looked penitent, dropping his head further I felt him nuzzle my neck

"I'm sorry Miss, forgive me?"

"If you make it up to me I will" my whisper was almost deadly and I noticed Charlie's skin pale slightly. He knew I wasn't playing anymore.

"What does my Mistress want." I could hear the begging note creep into his voice.

"I want you to fuck me hard, harder than you ever have before. And as deep as you can force yourself inside me. And then, if you are a good boy and I let you cum inside me I want you to clean me up. With your tongue." I didn't have a clue where these instructions were coming from, but fuck was I horny. And the butterflies whizzing around in my stomach proved it, I was enjoying this far more than I had anticipated, "And, if you are a really good boy, you can kiss me afterwards. But. only when you have made me orgasm. Do you understand?"

He nodded and I felt his cock twitch against my pussy lips, nudging for entry, ready and eager. It was a good thing I was already wet. Charlie was not, by any means possible a small boy, and being blessed with over endowment was going to prove to be heaven for me. He nudged once more and his huge blue eyes starred into mine, twinkling with awe

"Can I please Miss?" I nodded my accent and, as ever, felt his huge girth fill me. As he started pounding into me, it didn't take long for another orgasm to build and I was flying over the edge. Charlie slowed down slightly as he must have felt my pussy clenching around his still tock hard prick. He groaned into my mouth as I bit into his bottom lip. I pulled his head around and sunk my teeth none to gently into his earlobe. He sped up with earnest,

"Don't you even think about cumming without my permission, do you understand?"

"Yes Miss" He forced out through gritted teeth. I could feel him getting close. My sadistic side kicked in at that moment, and I pushed him off me.

"Clean up my cum" I barked out "With your tongue. And I want every last drop gone do you understand me?"

"Yes Mistress." Charlie groaned, pulling out of my reluctantly. His tongue lapped furiously at my pussy and I ground myself into his mouth, until I literally could take it no more and came against his lips

"Now you can come and kiss me." I demanded "I'd like to taste myself on your lips."

"Yes Miss, Thank you Miss."

Charlie worked his way back up my body and kissed me hard on the lips. I flicked out my tongue and tasted my cum on him. The taste and smell was a heady one. Pushing him on to his back, I did something we hadn't previously done and I climbed on top. Lowering myself gently on to his hard cock was an exquisite feeling, and I grasped his hands in mine and effectively pinned him to the bed. I slid myself up and down on his cock, slow at first then more vigorous, slamming in to him. It didn't take long for his orgasm to build, so I leant down and whispered in his ear,

"Do you need to cum for your Mistress baby?"

He nodded and let out a low groan. He was almost incapable of speech.

"Beg..."

And boy does he beg. Its almost like he is begging for his life and I cream instantly all over his cock. I feel him tense beneath me and realise I need to let him cum, seconds before its too late and I have to punish him. I'm not ready for that quite just yet!

"Cum for me, there's a good boy." I've never heard him cry out quiet so loud, he pulls away from my grip, grasps my hips and buries himself balls deep inside my hot, wet pussy. I kiss him hard, swallowing his screams, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

"Switch." I mutter to him after we have calmed down and cleaned up, I am half asleep by now.

"Pardon?" Charlie has gone back to stroking my spine once again

"That's what its called. A switch. Someone who tops from the bottom, a submissive or dominant who 'switches'."

"Ahhh" He drops a kiss on my neck "And a very good switch you are dear."



Switch



I have your arms secured to the headboard with leather cuffs. You are shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a tight pair of jeans. I begin by lightly stroking your face, tracing your jawline, down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. My hand ventures down past your clavicle, exploring your chest, and further down your side. All the way until I reach the waist of your jeans, where I stop. I begin again, on the other side, savoring the texture of your skin, running my fingers through your hair as my hand travels. I feel the beating of your heart as my hand rests over it. Your breathing becomes less even. 

I take my time; caressing and exploring, fascinated by the way your body reacts to my touch. 

I lean down to kiss you, gently, barely touching your lips, just enough to tease. 

And again.

And again.

And again. 

I catch your lip in my teeth and nibble, just a bit. Just enough. 

Then I move further south, leaving random, soft kisses down your chest, then your stomach. Up again, feathery kisses trailing across your skin, feeling your heat, breathing in your scent. Your heart is starting to pump a little harder, your breathing shallower and more sporadic. 

I kiss my way back down. I can see your arousal outlined in your jeans and I lean down, placing a kiss on it, smiling as you groan and involuntarily flex. I love exerting my power over you, seeing your body react under my control. I love how hard you are already, confined and aching, completely at my mercy.

I unzip your pants but leave them buttoned, slowly pulling the waistband down, pausing just at that moment before your cock is ready to spring free. I hear you growl in frustration. I wait a moment longer before undoing the button, letting you know that I just how much authority I have. I hear you sigh as your cock is finally freed from the confining material.

In a fit of naughtiness, I lean forward until my lips are centimeters from the tip and lightly exhale. It twitches so I do it again. Your hips start shifting as you reach for that little bit of contact that you are so frantically craving. I hold your thighs down as best I can and I sit back, giggling, until you calm again. 

Leaning forward once more, I gently kiss the head of your cock, reveling in the single curse you utter. I run my tongue around it, then bend further to lick the underside of your shaft, all the way to the top.

Your muscles are tense, your breathing ragged, your eyes dark. You are watching me, mesmerized by the way my mouth is tormenting you. I smile wickedly and place my lips over you, sliding down until I feel you hit the back of my throat, then gradually slide up. I swirl the top with my tongue again.

Your hips begin their frantic movement again and I stop. I wait. You relax a little and I continue, the same soft torture, pausing when you get too close to the edge. I repeat this, over and over, while you moan and tense. First you threaten me, promising revenge and all the evil things you will do to me when I release you. I laugh, thoroughly enjoying myself. I keep going as you curse and grit your teeth. I keep going, lightly sucking and licking and stopping when you are close. I am waiting, and you know for what.

Finally, unable to stand it, so frenzied by lust and need, you start pleading.

I give your cock one last, long lick before moving to straddle your waist. I kiss your chest, working my way to one nipple and then the other, kissing up your throat and back to your mouth. I kiss you deeply, unsnapping one cuff, then the other, freeing your arms. 

For a moment longer we are locked together in a deep, passionate kiss. In a fluid movement you grab me and roll on top, pinning me below you. Before I can move you have my wrists in the cuffs, secured and unable to move. 

And now it's your turn.

I spread my legs wide, eager and ready. Teasing you aroused me more than I could have anticipated, and I expect you to take me then. You smile down at me, your eyes fierce and predatory now that the roles have reversed. I like you like this the best; powerful, unrelenting. Dominant.

I wait, holding my breath, eager to feel your powerful thrust inside me. But I underestimated your willpower and control; instead of plunging your hard cock inside me, you straddle my hips. I can feel the heat of your cock as it rests on my stomach, still wet with my saliva. 

Now that you have regained control, I won't get away with teasing you like that.

You mimic my earlier movements, tracing my face and jaw, down my neck to the sensitive space where my pulse beats. My breath catches; you know how this affects me. Your hands run across my collarbones, around the outside of my breasts, fingers skimming the silky material of my negligee. Down my sides to where the hem as ridden up; your hands slide underneath, tingles of pleasure rippling through my skin as your hands caress me. 

I am panting now, squirming under you. I can feel arousal running down my skin, soaking into the sheets below. 

Your hands slide across my stomach and upward, just shy of my breasts; I moan in frustration as they move away again. I feel you chuckle. Your hands leave the gossamer confines of my nightie, moving to the small row of buttons that hold the fabric together. I expect—need—you to rip it off. You knew this, deliberately taking your time, teasingly unhooking each button.

"You may want to wear this again," you say. 

I huff at you and you laugh, the one you know drives me insane. Dark. Mischievous. 

You lean down, lips a hair's-breath away from mine. I wait, unable to look away, anticipating that contact. My mouth parts slightly and I try to arch upward, to capture your lips with mine. You hover just out of reach for a long moment. 

"Please." My voice is a little breathless.



Switch



He'd grown weary of pretending to struggle, in case she was watching. This was new, being unable to see and lashed to the bed. An hour now, maybe more, and his anticipation had gone soft; replaced by vague unease and just a hint of apprehension. Sound, unfamiliar, startled. Heels perhaps, creaking wood, and unfamiliar leather. His nostrils flared at the scent of strange perfume. His wife had never done anything this elaborate since they started exploring her switch side.

Alone again, time to adjust to the silent room and ponder if this was punishment for some unknown slight. Nearly asleep, time meaningless his lips awoke to her familiar kiss, fleeting but reassuring and erasing fear. A noise from above, the stretch of leather, creak of it binding under load unnerving to the unaccustomed ear. Rope sang softly against itself; some kind of pulley, impossible to know. Involuntarily, he steeled for pain. She had surprised him before.

This was different. Without warning wet heat settled on him and the surprise of it engorged him immediately. He bucked upward unthinking, forgetting his role. But it was gone, the sweet sensation now replaced only with perfume. Rope on rope rasped gently, he understood now as she lowered down on to him by unknown apparatus. Feeling nothing but her pussy, no skin or hair or fingertips was maddening after the time deprived. But he was determined to perform, and held still resisting the urge to thrust up to his wife above him.

Slowly, he was engulfed inch by inch over and over, a teasing wriggle new to him. She must be enjoying her position with all the cards. An involuntary grin parted his lips, pleased with his wife's newfound boldness. Again forgetting the role, he whispered her name and pressed slowly upward. Cold air shocked him, swollen head straining upward for what was lost. He would not forget again she had commanded both silence and his body to lie still or be punished.

The sound of a vibrator snapped his senses, and he knew the consequence now. She would pleasure herself without him. The tiny motor hummed for what seemed forever, just in front of him unmistakable. He knew she hung just above his turgid prick denying the glory of her orgasm around him. Straining leather betrayed the shudder of climax and for just a moment; his prick was allowed to stroke slippery juices, the pleasant vibe galvanizing.

Straining rope and shifting weight pricked at his ear, unclear in absence of touch or sight what could possibly be in store. He felt exposed, and for a moment chilled by the unfamiliar scenario. Normally she was content to accept him as he needed to fuck in steady matrimonial ritual. This new withholding of love and requirement for condition broke new ground, and for a moment he considered the safe word.

Broken from his straying thoughts, she would not allow him to fall useless. Stinging points moved from the tight skin of his sack up toward his tip. Barely perceptible pain, but he knew the pinwheel and became still giving her his trust as she demanded. His shaft filled to a mighty desire as she toyed with him and encircled him with her favorite toy. He associated the leather ring positively and the soft humming of her vibe became his focus.

Then suddenly he was buried, her pubic bone grinding on him. Helpless to this stimulus every inch stood tall for her use. His breath caught with new sensation, gripped by her as she came, only able to feel with his cock as she used him like a toy without mercy. Unable to resist, he poured in to her every drop with a powerful groan of relief. Still buried to the hilt, he felt her press down harder as he pumped for long seconds, accepting all he had.

For a time his tip strained in her and she did not move, feeling his pulsing as if to give more but spent entirely. Finally, exhausted, he lay back and the slick love engulfing him was lifted. Just as his swollen cock was released, the familiar grip of her hand clasped around his balls with startling authority. His body tensed again with involuntary fear in spite of the rapture. These games were new and limits still untested.

Impossibly close, his wife's loving tongue whispered "I love you" in his ear. The mask was lifted and before him his seed dripped from a secret obsession turned real. She had been by his side through it all, and he knew the night was only just beginning from her tone. His wife straddled his face, leaving him no choice but to revel in her taste. The two women began to kiss and an unfamiliar hand began stroking him back in to service.



Switch



"Now my sweet, you may answer. Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And, of course should you forget again, I'm sure we can be most inventive with your new jewellery."

"Sir, I'm sure that won't be necessary."

"Good."

"Sir thank you for your kindness. May I be of service to you now?"

"I think you may, I wish you to bend over the end of the horse and spread your legs. Shall I need to tie you?"

"Oh no Sir, I have learned my lesson."

"I think you may have. Prove me wrong, though and you will be punished."

Helen bent over the sloping end of the vaulting horse and, wrapping her arms around the leather, spread her legs. Marcus stepped up to her bottom, presented for his pleasure and took hold of the base of his rigid cock. Taking a moment to open the lips of her pussy, he took a deep breath and then thrust deeply into her. His thick cock stretched her aching pussy, filling it and triggering the rippling spasms that heralded her orgasm. She sobbed in pleasure as he thrust deep and hard, taking her violently, the tears soaking the leather.

Marcus plunged in and out of her pussy, feeling the oily caress of her aching pussy. A particularly deep thrust and she was gone, tumbling into orgasm, her pussy squeezing against his cock in a long slow caress. Her whole body convulsed and she swooned limply against the horse. Marcus slid his hard cock out of her dripping pussy, and began to slide it along the cleft between her buttocks. The slippery fluid made the dark rosette between her buttocks slick and shiny as, realising what Marcus was about to do, Helen reached back and pulled the cheeks of her bottom apart. Marcus poised with his cock head pressed hard against the tight ring of her anus and then thrust hard. The feeling of Marcus pushing into her rectum forced a soft groan of surrender from Helen's lips and she convulsed again. This time Marcus made no attempt to hold back and spurted hot ropes of slipper cum into the depths of her bowels. Spurt after spurt of hot cum splashed inside her and Marcus slowly softened, slipping out of her bottom.

Helen could feel the slimy trickle of Marcus' sperm as he helped her to stand and took her gently in his arms. 

"You have been a good girl this evening. I think you have learned your lessons very well. Go up to our rooms and run yourself a bath, I shall be up in a moment to bathe you before we go to bed.

Helen walked sedately to the stairs, her back straight as she displayed the stigmata of Marcus' love for her. Within she was gleeful at the prospect of his hands pleasuring her as thoroughly as they had punished her. She had experienced his punishment and reward before and knew that the pain was a small price to pay for his tender caresses. Besides, she loved her servitude to him.



Switch



To say that I was eager would be an understatement. Eager couldn't even begin to describe the feelings inside me.

Here I was, in a taxi, on the way to finally meet the woman who had submitted to me online. The woman who had turned her back on her husband and former master for me.

Online, we had done it all. I'd fucked her ass, I'd fisted her. My flogger had raised stinging, red welts on her skin. Online, we'd even made love. But now, just a few more minutes down the road, we'd being doing it all again in real time.

My hand was shaking and moist as I rang her doorbell.

"Yes, Master. It's open," she called from the other side of the door.

Pushing the door open, I saw her. poetess, my slut. Naked, in the position, with her ass facing me. Oh yes, she knows how much I treasure her ass.

Dropping my bag, I went up behind her. My left hand grabbed her hair, while my right gave her ass a hard open-palmed slap. And another.

"Master?" 

"Yes slut."

"May I say how my heart is filled with joy." Her voice was shaking, her breathing already rapid. "Now that I've finally met you."

"Yes slut, I know. I feel the same." I let go of her hair and stroked her head. That's when I noticed it. The collar I'd sent to her. Thick black leather, with 3 solid rings.

I smiled inwardly. The slut was already well-trained, and prepared.

"Master... do I have your permission to show you something that I've made ready for You?"

"Of course."

She lead me to a room off the hallway. It was almost empty. In the centre of the room was a solid table, but no chairs. On one wall, about 6 feet from the floor and a yard or so apart, there were two solid chains with leather cuffs attached. A similar arrangement could be seen on the floor, about one yard from the wall.

I was impressed and told her so.

"Thank you, Master. May I suggest a trial? To see if it meets Your needs?"

I nodded and lead her to the wall where I secured her wrists and then her ankles. Then I stood back and admired My poetess. Arms above her head. Legs spread wide.

She was unable to move away... as if she'd want to.

Satisfied, I walked up behind her and stood very close. I could feel the heat of her. I could smell her want.

My hand went to a thigh. It stroked. Slowly. Softly.

Then it slapped. Hard. Fast.

Again.

"What about your husband?" My voice was harsh. "The one who calls himself your master."

"Don't worry about him. He's still away on business," she replied nervously.

Hand slapped thigh again. Hard.

"And, Sir? He's no longer my Master. You're the only One I serve. The only One who can meet my needs."

My hand went to her pussy. The folds were wet, swollen. "And what are those needs?"

"Discipline, Sir." Her voice shook. "And pain."

I went to the hallway to get my bag. As I undid the clasps, I could hear the rate of her breathing increasing. When I pulled out the flogger and swung it through the air, she gasped. When I swung it quickly at her pussy, she moaned.

"Is that what you've been waiting for, slut?"

"Yes... Master." Her voice was raw. "Oh, yes."

I swung the flogger again. Harder this time. And I could see her ass and her legs clenching.

My arm lashed out again. She moaned.

And the door opened loudly, followed by a shouted, "What the fuck!"

I saw a stocky, red faced man filling the doorway, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Poetess?" I asked quietly, "Who's this?"

"I happen to be her Master," he answered for her, "and her husband."

"Poetess...?"

She looked over her shoulder at me. The momentary look of fear in her eyes changed to one of devotion.

"He's no one, Master. I now serve only You."

He made a move toward her, but I quickly stepped in front of him. "You heard My Poetess. It's time for you to go."

My height - I had a good four or five inches on him - and the calmness of my voice worked to my advantage. He backed away slightly.

In a voice that was now less assured, he said, "I'm going. But only for a minute." And he stomped out the door.

As I heard his feet on the stairs, I turned to Poetess. "Is this really the man that you married? That you served?"

"Yes, Master, I married him, and I did serve." Her voice was quiet. "But I discovered long ago that he only wanted someone to beat."

"Well, Poetess, maybe it's about time you gave him a taste of his own whip."

"Yes, Master."

"So, tell Me. Where does he keep his toys?"

"Over there," she said, indicating with her head, "in the closet."

I walked over, opened the door and looked inside. The back wall was a Dom's dream. Arranged carefully were canes, floggers and single tail whips. Cuffs and chains. Clamps for both nipple and clit.

After selecting a 7 foot long braided single tail, I walked back over to where Poetess stood waiting, her wrists and ankles still secured.

"This might have just the right sting for him," I said, and began undoing her cuffs.

After she accepted the whip from me, I noticed a change in her eyes, the look now harder, much more assured. She threw her arm forward sharply, making the leather... SNAP.

We heard footsteps and then her erstwhile master was standing at the door, naked now and holding a single tail of his own.

When he saw his former submissive and what was in her hand, his eyes opened wide and his body seemed to sag. All but one part of his body... his cock. It was coming to life, stiffening rapidly.

He still hadn't said a word, and when the first lash of the whip landed, the only sound he emitted was a moan. A low, long moan.

His cock also jumped noticeably.

I could feel something changing in the room. Looking over at Poetess, I saw a confident smile form on her lips. She threw the single tail again.

This time, when leather met skin, the cock not only jumped. It erupted in single, fine stream of cum that landed three feet from its producer.

"Poetess...?" I asked, "Now that you've put the bastard in his place, maybe you and I should get to our unfinished business."

Looking at me with what seemed like pity, she said, "Oh, our business is finished."

"How dare you speak..."

"Listen," she spoke patiently, "I've got the best of both worlds now. I know that I can keep him in his place. And I'm damn sure that I can make him give me what I want when I need it."

Her eyes locked with her husband's, and she added, "Isn't that right, sub?"

"Yes, Mistress." 



Switch



Second night. The actions are familiar. San Francisco street corner; cars slow; the drivers are luridly appreciative. Most attention seems to focus on the full, even ample, black, studded leather cod-piece. There are no socks stuffed in this one. The cod-piece is part of the entire ensemble. The night before, Tina had bitched her in lycra...the short sheath had almost been as tight as Sydd's hot asshole...and then there were Tina's words to the effect that there was nothing better than Sydd's thick, full lips...nothing other than pussy...or was it vice versa...T had popped into her head at that evocation; her cock had hardened and leaked continuously down her stocking-clad thigh...In any case, the last night had begun on a San Francisco corner like this; a cool night where the chill stung the cheeks of her ass...

The cheeks of her ass. They were exposed. Part of the ensemble; her choice this evening. Top to bottom: over the ultra sheer black body-stocking that encased her made-to-measure 36d's was a black leather corset—turn about for last night?—and an equally black, leather bolero with faux mink collar—no need to kill anything other than the gawkers—and them, only with looks...Below the waist, the source of the chill: black leather jodhpurs—crotch-less and ass-out...hence the need for a little 'discretion': the cod-piece—hopefully soon to be lost. These slid into a pair of five inched stiletto, thigh-high boots, also black. Above the top, inside thigh, rose the band of the sheer, black Cuban-heeled thigh-highs. Back to the top: faux black mink pill box, accenting the nappy, winter-wheat blonde head. Cobalt blue lenses behind oversize shades. An oversized, over the shoulder, a black leather bag, light-weight, but filled with toys: 8", thick, 'realistic,' black cock; crop; padded, leather cuffs; makeup; lots of lipstick; an extra pair of heels—just in case—the stuff...nothing heavy...A 'black widow' tonight? Perhaps...

As she drummed her buffed nails against her thigh—not impatiently, but to a rhythm only she registered—the Mercedes slid noiselessly round the corner. The window powered down. The full, richly lacquered lips pouted from the pale face. The tongue involuntarily glossed over them at the sight of Sydd. Clearly the desired effect. Sydd slid into the heated seat, and the car slid into the San Francisco night...'slid,' such a descriptive word...

Sydd took in the full-view of her driver; reaching up to turn on the cockpit—mmmmmm—light as she did. Dressed as commanded. Tina leathered again, this time red. The corset tight, and the skirt so short that when she sat it slid—that word again—over her ass, exposing her naked, semi erect, and erecting cock; strapped to her thigh by a band of red ribbons...the head touched and leaked pre-cum on the elastic of the red thigh stockings that peeked over her blood-red 5" stilettoed, thigh-high boots...Before she could pull away from the curb—window still down to the viewing public, of whom there were not a few—Sydd firmly grasped the ribboned packaged, milked and then levered herself to cover Tina's full, red mouth with her own. She held this pose for what seemed like several minutes. When she drew her gloved hand away, it glistened with Tina's slickness...

*

Tina was an exception in Sydd's life. It may sound racist, though it is surely not the intent: Sydd very, very rarely did white. It was not that she didn't get enough offers—they were, in many ways, overwhelming in their volume. Here, however, it was simply a matter of her aesthetic, and her 'ethic.' The cd community was dominated by white grls who seemed to care less about the black wmn out there. They were ignored; virtually non-existent...Sydd spent most of her time looking for and 'pampering' the 'non-existent'—if they were deserving...

Tina's exceptional nature began with her style—so close, or so it seemed, to impeccable, that the degree of difference was inappreciable. She was intelligent; and she was caring. She was also a looker...She was hot...

***

Tina was hot...there was this demureness that hid a certain heat...Sydd loved the 'before and after' looks. They were recorded mostly in pics. Sydd found Tina rather amazing: especially the 'regular' grl look that more than often gave way to some sultry slut...like tonight...

'Payback' flitted back and forth in Sydd's mind. Last night, strapped to a plastic-sheeted bed; ass-up—the 'bubble butt,' if you will—tight, muscular, ripe for the taking...an ass hardly ever taken... 'Tina,' she thought, 'you must be special...'

Unlike Tina, accept for these occasions, Sydd was 'terribly' straight---and loved it...it was the juxtaposition that was so exhilarating...a tight muscular male one minute, and a tight, hot 'fetish bitch'—as Tina put it—the next...and this was 'the next'...

'Sooooo, how was my ass?' a rhetorical question, to be sure...Sydd knew only too well how her ass was...soooo good—for the both of them—that her asshole was still 'ringing'...Where Tina had used the crop, she had been careful not to mark Sydd...an act that Sydd stressed was verboten...the crop, however, was literally a 'warm up' for the gloved palm...Sydd's real weakness when she switched—to be spanked and milked, rhythmically...before she was penetrated...Her own hoarse panting in moaning was still in her ears...

Rhetorical or not, Sydd got the response that she wanted...Tina's cock swelled in its red, satin bonds...Sydd leaned even closer at the light, and whispered: 'You know what the "pony-girl's" got for you, don't you?' Tina puddled pre-cum on the fresh leather...the two scents were incredible...Now, Tina's asshole spasmed—anxiety and anticipation...a bit of both... 'Ready for me, Babi?'...the nod was almost imperceptible... 'You'll just have to wait, Bitch...'

**

The valet opened the door and Tina swiveled her naked hips on the slickened leather seat; her hard, scarlet lashed cock in full view...before she could clear the door and his gaze, Sydd had placed the faux-diamond choker round her neck and clicked the lead into the D-ring...This one read 'MY SLUT.' Sydd made her stand there for what seemed like eternity while the parking attendant gawked, then, she hissed, 'Pull your skirt down, Bitch! Don't display what's mine without my permission.' Sydd snapped the lead and strutted ahead—no equality here—and Tina dutifully followed...behind that powerful, yet recently-fucked, black ass...

The door to the club opened. The motion was fluid. Sydd's booted heel crossed the threshold at the same instant that she gracefully stripped the cod-piece aside; a rumored 11+ sprang forth and no one cared if it was an inch or so shy.

As she tethered the slut, she grabbed the prettiest bitch in arm's reach, backed her against a wall and covered her mouth with her thick, glossy lips...her cock hardening, stretching, and leaking against her 'victim's' thigh...the victim, herself, responded with gusto, grinding back...the sable-skinned blond, rarely encountered, had become the stuff of legend—at least the urban kind...

Tina, could only stare and grow harder, herself... 

***

Sydd glanced over her shoulder. Tina made eye contact. It was brief and powerful. She dropped to her knees in the plush carpet of the club; her mouth open to receive the inverted, pre-cum soaked codpiece. She tried to disguise her ardor as she sucked the codpiece gag with as much relish as she did Sydd's cock...the codpiece became sodden with her saliva as she tried to extract the black bitch's flavor from the leather. Tina sucked harder as she took in the spectacle...

Sydd's 'attention' was being lavished on another dusky beauty who looked as if she had stepped off a Ballywood set...Kamasutra was written over every inch of her sari-clad body; and she was just as forceful in her eagerness to match Sydd's carnal onslaught. The sari slid over that richly toned, mahogany bubble ass. The long, sculpted legs flowed into stilettoed sandals whose straps reversed their way up her calves and knotted just below her knee. They and her sari were a rich yellow; a wonderful contrast to her darkness. She and Sydd were quite a sight. In spite of 5" heels, they were still, relatively small grls—5' 6-8 in stocking feet; slender and tight...

As Sydd kneaded the honey-brown ass, a dark, thick snake of a cock struggled free of its tuck in a matching yellow thong, pushing between the crack of her ass...Its size even shocked Tina—thick, meaty, long. It leaked down the Indian grl's thigh. Sydd's fingers grazed the head and the cum slit; the thick, heavy pearls clinging. Sydd worked the pearls into the skin her new partner's ass, re-glossing skin that already glowed.

Sydd's open mouth clamped down on the beauty's. In turn, she tongue-fucked Sydd's mouth with an incredibly thick tongue. Sydd hadn't forgotten that equally thick muscle that had pushed back between this hot bitch's thighs...one hand slid over the tight ass to that pretty cock. Seizing it right below the crown, Sydd tugged it back and toward the crack of the ass...and stroked...

The motion broke the lip-lock. The bronze beauty sighed, then moaned. Sydd pulled her closer as they ground her cock between them; her cock and shaft sliding and peeking between their thighs. Sydd gripped her earlobe in her teeth and breathed into it: 'What's your name, Babi?'

'Shiva,' she winced as Sydd tugged on that pretty cock again, making it longer still...stroking it behind those glowing cheeks; making it leak even more...

They had become quite a spectacle, and Tina was not the only voyeur in this space—in fact, there seemed to be a club full. She and Sydd had made quite an impression the night before...the white fur and black lycra tube; the black leather bustier and hot pants; the entrance, all seemed to have the calculated effect...but the real effect came from the brazen nastiness of these black and white bitches. Some wanted to simply position themselves for the best possible view. Others were literally queuing in the hope that they'd receive an 'invitation'...

***

The first 'invitation' was issued...eye contact, again. Sydd caught Tina in her gaze. The command was silent...and gracious...it said: 'This is for you, Babi.' With that, Sydd stroked Shiva's cocked. Tina stood, the crowd murmured, then stilled. She was exquisite, standing there, poured into red leather. Gracefully, intentionally, she approached her summons. It was a short distance from where she was tethered to Shiva's ass, but her long strides were marked by elegance and her hard, ribboned cock riding along her thigh...

Three long, gliding steps were all that was necessary to reach her 'Mistress' and their prize. Once there, Tina adhered to ritual—protocol—she handed her lead to Sydd—they always purchased them quite long...the codpiece was extracted, she was then allowed to kiss Sydian—Sydd's preferred ¬nomme de fuck when she was a la mode—lightly. Then she allowed her lips to fall lightly from Sydian's to Shiva's shoulder and down the small of her back...crouching and then, kneeling when she had reached the 'position.'

What the crowd was witnessing was all the more heated because of what they had seen the night before—'role reversal.'

There was a slight flutter of Sydian's lashes as she tugged the lead and pulled Tina into Shiva's ass...her nose came to rest on the corona of her sphincter, her mouth within breathing distance of Shiva's cock head...by instinct the tongue darted forward to catch a drop of wayward pre-cum. On it's way back into her mouth, the soft-rough tongue rasped the head of that cock, forcing the Indian grl to push her head back and her tongue forward—deeper still into Sydian's mouth...

The backward movement exposed even more of Shiva's sex-cobra...the mongoose in Tina seized it by the head and tried to swallow it whole...Shiva's moan coated the entire room in a thick, steamy wetness...Sydd released Shiva's tongue from the vice of her mouth, untangled herself from Shiva's clutch and propped the 'Bombay' beauty against the wall...Sydd moved to inspect Tina's work...

***

The 'inspection' was close...and 'proper'... Sydian knelt beside Tina. She positioned herself to get the best view of Tina's handiwork—mouth-work, to be more exact—and to record the intense emotion and passion flooding Shiva's face... It also afforded her the best vantage from which she could slide her hand up Shiva's torso and play the chain that clamped the nipples of those grapefruited swellings that adorned her chest...

With every motion, Tina greedily took in more of that teak wood...with every motion, Shiva backed more cock into Tina's mouth...Sydian observed and lick her own lips, glanced at the stiffness between her own legs and it's pooling, and knew that it was about time to get 'hers'...

She leaned towards Tina and whispered—instructing and chiding... 'Nasti little bitch...slut...' It was the chorus to a soft litany... 'If it's hard, dark, and pretty, you'll take it, won't you?'...

Tina wanted to nod 'yes,' but at the moment of her gesture 

Sydian yanked the chain...the charge through the nipples forced that bronzed ass back and more cock into Tina's already stuffed mouth.

'Yesssssss, I thought you did,' Sydd hissed, pulling the lead forward in the act of lodging even more cock down that throat...Sydd was remembering the previous night, and feeling a tad bit vindictive...was the word 'payback? All that wood between her thighs seemed to be 'nodding' 'Yes'...

'Mmmmmmm... Remember last night, Bitch...?' Sydd whispered... 'Remember how hard you rode this pretty, black ass?' Again, Tina tried to nod; again Sydd pulled lead and chain simultaneously...Tina gagged on cock...the backwash flowed so thick through her lips that you might have thought Shiva had cum...Shiva moaned and began to pump back into that throat...

'You rode me like there would be no ass tomorrow, Bitch... You rode me like I'll never forget... Maybe I should thank you, Slut... In fact...I will...' A yank...more gagging...more humping...

On her knees, Sydd scooted behind Tina... Her cock, slick and glistening...

'You will remember me, Bitch... You will remember me...'

***

Sydd slid in behind those pale ass-cheeks and slapped them so forcefully that the report ricocheted off the walls... Tina responded as expected: she jumped, taking even more cock down her throat, leaving another bright red smear on that tan tube...and raising her ass to just the desired angle...

Shiva moaned even louder as Tina gagged once more; the reflex to gagging seemed to be to fuck that pretty, white face even more...to make that carefully applied make-up a blur...

The equal and not so opposite reaction was to force Tina back down on to her haunches and onto that slick ebony pole that awaited her...

If it is possible to speak with one's mouth full, Tina accomplished this...as she came down on Sydd's pike, Sydd thrust up...the motion had a speech of its own... It said: 'Remember me, Bitch??!!'... Tina's response was emphatic and affirmative...from a full and constricted throat came a gurgled keening...a soft, but loud wail...the contradiction of a full ass speaking...

Sydd gripped Tina's hips and began to pound out a new beat, one Tina hummed/moaned onto Shiva's skin-flute...the extra tonal vibrations made the Indian grl flinch...her cock not only plunging in and out of that soft, hot mouth, but now being staccatoed from side—imprisoned in a tight, humid sound chamber... For Shiva, the 'music' was beautiful...

For Sydd, every thrust cause her own ass-hole to clinch, and last night's ringing was more than just a memory... She figured she had a little ass-ringing of her own to do... 'Hmmmmm... Wonder if Tina remembers that one: "Ring my bell—elllllllllle... Ring my bell"...?'... Sydd went at it with a vengeance... 'Bell –ringing'... 

Sydd bent her back like a compound bow, arched up and let that thick, long, dull-headed arrow hit its mark for one last time before she let loose a torrent of thick, scalding cream... 'Bull's eye!'... Tina's ass-hole clenched, spasmed...the voice in her tried to dislodged that thick tawny cock cramping her throat...and Shiva... Shiva...it wasn't clear if Shiva sang or cried at this moment, but cum, she did...

The cream that now overflowed the corners of what had been one of the most perfectly made-up mouths in the western hemisphere was unmistakably, in its mixture, mostly pure cum...and terribly tantalizing to those who thought 'clean-up' to be the most divine act of their sexual universe...they hovered on the edges awaiting a summons...

Tina gagged one last time, freeing her throat of cock... She coughed and her eyes watered as Sydd, still lodged in her, leaned over her and stroked her cheek as she whispered in her ear... 'You'll remember me, now, won't you sweet bitch?'...

Tina turned and softly answered, 'Yes...'

Now Sydd disengaged, lifted Tina to her feet. 'Go fix your face... Look like you belong to me...'

She walked over to the wobbly Shiva, slid her hand over that sex-slicked ass, and whispered: 'Next time, it's mine...' Shiva's eyes went bright as she nodded her assent...

Someone, from somewhere, had taken the car-check... As Tina leaned on Sydd from the club to car, the valet opened the door... Sydd tipped him, leaned into him, said softly: 'And next time, her ass is yours, pretty boi...' And squeezed that thickness in his pants before she slid behind the wheel...

***

Nope... Sydd's not a cruel person—not by a long shot—but then again, does giving pleasure amount to cruelty? By way of rationalization, some might call it 'justice'... Tonight was a turn-about, a reversal of fortunes—a switch... And Tina had been 'fortunate' enough to get exactly what she had wished for... But then, Mamma's always there to whisper in your ear: 'Be careful what you wish for...'



Switch Bitch



Going straight with a new couple, he helps a wife have new sexual experiences and encounters startling new twists that add to his own experiences.  

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Click Here to listen. (26 min/mp3)

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