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We hadn’t seen each other for a while due to work commitments but on one very, wet Sunday afternoon we met up in his local bar for a couple of drinks. Two glasses of an excellent Barolo later and we were both eager to get back to his place.
I’m not sure whether it was the wine, the fact we hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks or the warm summer rain, but the moment we tumbled through his front door we were all over one another. Deep, wet kisses, him biting my bottom lip and grabbing a good handful of my ass and I was very, very, wet.
By the time we got to the bedroom I’d left my skirt, shoes and coat strewn across the landing and stairs. He threw me back on the bed and started to move his kisses down my neck across my body and beneath my thighs. He’d always been good at giving head - he never went straight for the clit, always lavishing me with kisses, licks and play-bites making me wriggle deliciously.
His tongue movements intensified, pulsating at the top of my hood and then, all of a sudden, without any warning, he spat…on my cunt. We both paused for a second, neither of us sure that it really happened. Without realising it, I let out a gentle moan, grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his mouth onto me eager for him to make me cum.
Afterwards neither of us said a word about it, in the glow of orgasm the moment passed, but several days later as we chatted on the phone he said in the most casual of fashions, “Oh yeah…I forgot. I spat on you”. I could hear the smirk in his voice.
I paused for a second reminiscing the moment. “You did,” I replied. “I liked it.”
I’d sort of forgotten about it too. That moment was intense but it led to some interesting internal debate. I have some strong feminist values and yet being degraded by him and, actually loving every second of it led to a few seconds of me checking myself. We talked it through - he even stated that it wasn’t something he was keen to do all the time as it would lose any special emphasis. It would actually lose its ‘power’. I shivered. In a good way. Him saying the word ‘power’ had my mind racing and realising that him treating me as ‘his’’ - a plaything to do whatever he wanted to could lead to some electric sexual experiences.
The next time we hooked up we were both eager to explore this further. I took him in my mouth lavishing attention on every inch of him. “Look at me while you do that.” His voice commanding but not stern. I dutifully obeyed and gazing into his eyes as my tongue traced his length. “Now. Touch yourself…” he ordered.
I swiftly buried two fingers inside myself. It was delicious.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to be a submissive. I struggle with the idea of being a strong, independent woman and yet I’m still keen to let him ‘use’ me. I appreciate the two are not mutually exclusive and if I enjoy it then it’s nobody’s business but mine.
There’s a possibility I’ll never be ‘fully’ submissive, and it’s certainly not something I’m keen to explore with everyone. With Him it was somehow perfectly timed and the communication and chemistry between us was just right. Knowing that he genuinely respects me and is keen to pleasure me in any way he can has allowed us to explore this avenue. Afterwards he’s considerate and kind which I consider vital if we are to explore the submissive scene further.
We’ll see what the future brings.