On their first date, he pointed to his lips, commanding her to kiss him. Her lips gave his a questioning squeeze of interest as she chastely obeyed.

On their second date, his index finger traced the line of lace on her panties. His eyes never left her face, surely seeing the heated ebb of desire flush her cheeks.

This was taking things slowly.

She shared her naughtier thoughts in a text:

I think of your face between my thighs, the way those lips of yours will feel against my clit while your beard tickles my soft, smooth skin underneath. I imagine my tummy on your lap and your hands all over my bottom, smacking and caressing it possessively. I wonder at the sounds you will make when your cock is in my mouth. I want you to tie me with my arms above my head. I wish you would use me. Make me wet with my cum and yours. I think about these things all day.
I haven’t yet mentioned your fingers.

She was taking it as slowly as she could physically handle: I will not make the same mistakes. I will not allow a physical relationship determine an emotional one. I will not.


But then his reply via email came:

I imagine: you bent over in panties, stockings and heels. Your big, firm ass just fucking begging me to caress, swat, knead, and bite it. Pulling down your panties and finding that your pussy has stained them wet. Watching strands of your juices cling to your leg. Slowly wiggling a finger into your wet hole, teasing, rubbing around the outside. Teasing your asshole. Spanking your bare ass hard, then fucking harder, then harder yet. Looking at my handprints. Removing my belt and having you lie across my lap so I can leave some deserved welts. Paddles, floggers, canes, whatever I want to use to get you into your space. Making you forget who you are and making you eager to please me. Spanking you until you’re my beautiful slut ready to submit to anything that I imagine.
Your sweet, wet, waxed pussy gushing out juices for me. From my fingers, my tongue, your toys. Eating and licking it all up while getting my beard wet; hearing you moan and gasp while I’m edging you with my mouth. Moving up to your mouth and kissing you hard and pulling your tongue deeper.
Watching you finger your pussy. Making it wetter. Pinching a nipple; licking your fingers and tasting your wetness. Begging me to lick your fingers clean.
Fucking you. Tied up. Cuffed. Over the bed, over a desk, over a chair, doggy style, fingering your asshole until I get a plug jammed in there. Taking you missionary style with your legs on my back, pulling me deeper into your pussy. Biting your nipples and neck. My hand on your neck. Staring into your eyes. Daring you to cum.
Blindfolding you. Cuffing you. You kneeling before me. Putting toys in your pussy and ass. Watching you writhe on them while your tongue is out begging for my cock. Swatting your tits with a flogger. Being savage to your nipples. Forcing my cock down your throat while my hand holds your hair. Calling you all the worst names while hearing you moan, which makes me call you worse things and fuck your face more. Telling you that you can’t cum unless you beg.
I might let you cum.

Fuck “slow.” Fuck it sideways, frontways, from behind and then toss it from a speeding car.

She’d waited long enough.

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