Sweet Dessert

I wish I could peel back my wrapper,
Break apart the dark sweetness inside,
So that I might share it with you,
Allow you to take pleasure from me in a new way.

I wish you could taste my gift,
One deliciously decadent bite at a time,
So that it might be a part of you,
Allow you to organize your emotions as I do.

I wish I could get you addicted to me,
With my special allure, savoring my words,
So that you might crave me, need me,
Allow me to teach you how.

I wish I could entice you to use me,
To use my gift as if it were your own,
So that I might know what your heart feels,
Allow me to experience words dedicated to me.

I wish, sweet husband, that you’d devour me completely,
Leaving nothing behind but that pretty, shiny wrapper,
So that I might feel the freedom that lies within you,
Allow me to live inside of you, in your heart and soul.

I wish that, since that isn’t possible,
You would nibble on me at every opportunity,
So that I might experience love the way I can,
Allow us to enjoy the dessert that is us, often.

How’s your sweet tooth?

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A dream of hope

It was an ordinary evening, a typical walk. But, for reasons I cannot explain, I wasn’t surprised when I was captured violently and pulled behind a fence on the dark, vacant path I love. I watched calmly and quietly as my attacker pressed me against the cold, damp wood and held a knife to my chest.

I had always had very little fear of death, as I have always believed that what lies on the other side could only be welcome relief from the pain that is living in this world. I’d clung to hope that someday life would provide me purpose. And in those seconds, I was completely at peace.

I knew that this was the moment for my magic to make a difference. This was my chance to infect someone else with kindness and hope. To pass on the light that made it impossible for me to let life’s hurt overwhelm me, even when it seemed to bury me.

I looked into the face of a young man whose desperation, hatred, lust and fear coated him like armor. But as his eyes bore into mine, I knew his weakness. For in them, I saw an unloved boy, a kid whose life had been infinitely harder than mine, a young man whose heart had been frozen and shattered repeatedly by the disappointments that drown so many.

I lifted my hand to his cheek and saw panic flash before me, but soothed his anxiety with the magic of my voice. “Shhhh, you have nothing to fear from me. I cannot hurt you. But if you allow me, I might help you… comfort you… heal you.”

His eyes grew wide as I spoke. Perhaps he’d never experienced kindness in his life. The idea made me sad and I lifted my other hand to his face to capture a single tear. That drop of saline need told me my magic was working.

As I stroked his unshaven face, his arms fell slack at his sides and I seized the opportunity to pull him into my embrace and plant the seeds that might grow into goodness and mercy. Hope.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt sadness roll off of him in waves that brought tears to my own eyes. My empathic heart absorbed it like a sponge, and I wished with everything in me that it truly worked that way. That I could relieve his woeful spirit by soaking up all the negative emotion that addled him.

Perhaps he could feel my thoughts, because the knife dropped from his grip and his arms circled me and held me as though he hadn’t ever felt the pleasure of a simple hug.

He took deep, choppy breaths against my hair, in an effort to evade the sobs that fought to bubble from within. He managed to keep himself from setting free the frightened boy who was never allowed the release of crying into the arms of someone who cared.

He whispered, “Why?” Barely audible, I tried to pull back to look at him, but he clung to me, almost as if I were a life preserver. But before I could answer, his thoughts grew dark and I felt the change course through his body. “You shoulda just said you wasn’t afraid of me…”

He lifted a hand to my throat as he pulled my arms from his neck and took a step back. His eyes were filled with hopelessness and rage. “I might’ve walked, but now, I wanna make you feel the pain you think I’m in.”

I should have felt fear with his words, but instead, I was excited by them. Curious about the level of rage he might muster after such an emotional response to my gift. I stood, fixed by his grip and stare, before my lips turned upward, unable to relinquish control to this lost boy.

“Do you think taking a piece of my body will fill the void? That release within me will give you something you are missing? Is that truly what you believe?”

His fingers tightened, his eyes were wide, and I could see the confusion my questions caused. I could feel his conscience fighting with his desire.

“Taking power will not make you feel more powerful.”

The crack my magic had made in his armor grew, but so did his rage. He leaned into me, as the fingers of his free hand reached between my thighs to grip me, intimately. “You’re wrong,” he growled. “Takin’ this will give me power.”

My smile faded, and I stared into the eyes of a possible rapist, but I didn’t feel the conviction of his words. I wished I could see inside his mind, inside his memories, and inside his lust.

In those wishes, my magic gripped me. Harder than he, and with enough force to choke me. An inch from my lips, I breathed him in and recognized his victimization.

A lifetime of attacks, a decade of cowering, and the inability to stand up against his abuser had left him broken and searching for that which might make him feel strong.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I gasped and struggled to keep from breaking. The weight of his shame crushed my heart and the hatred I felt for the person who created this hurt within him, a person he’d loved, emptied my mind of any self preservation. My desire to heal him forced my hands back to his scruffy jaw.

“Do your worst, sweet boy, if it will make you whole. Take refuge and release in me, but do so with the knowledge that what happened to you, to your heart and mind, will then happen to me. In taking my body, you will take away my hope.”

He stared into my eyes, realization clawing at him. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying desperately to understand what I was doing to him. As firmly as my power had gripped me, it was invading him. Penetrating the very center of what had brought him so many years of strife, and exploding with that one thing he’d been missing forever.

“Hope…” His lips were touching mine, his fingers still holding me, and my own twisting into the soft curls at the base of his neck.

“Yes. Let IT define you, instead of allowing your history to do that.” My whispered words filled his mouth, and I finally broke all the way through.

He released me, but remained planted to the spot, not wanting to disrupt the magic of my touch. Gazing into my eyes, his mind fell open, and I saw his goodness. He exhaled, and I felt his desire, not for power, but for love.

I allowed my lips to touch his briefly before pulling back and pouring all of the love I could muster into one look. He collapsed into my embrace and I breathed against his ear, “If you allow it to take hold, hope will crush fear. It will not take away the pain or struggle, but it will keep it from overwhelming you.

“Hope makes life bearable.”

With his hands on my waist and his face in my hair, he cried. The sobs he’d held in earlier broke free, and I felt the strength of that release. So much more powerful than a sexual one.

“Why? Why are you here?” He whispered, again.
“Fate.” I breathed.
“Are you an angel? …A witch?”
I giggled, “No. Just a silly girl who isn’t afraid. Just a broken girl who wishes she could heal the world. Just a backwards clairvoyant with far too much empathy.”
“A healer,” he sighed. “A magical, mystical healer, set on my path to save me… from myself.”
“Perhaps we were set on each other’s path. For you have saved me, as well. Given purpose to my gift.”

As I stood, comforting him, he held me and I too began to cry. Hearing me, he pulled back, concern changing his face and making him so beautiful.

“Why are you crying?” He touched my cheek, and I smiled at the transformation.

“They are your tears. I’m simply helping you release them faster.”

He held me again, tightly, and the healing truly began.

When I felt him grow stronger, I held him out from me and stared into the birth of my creation. He was suddenly a vividly attractive young man, and confidence seemed to blossom within him. I also recognized the emptiness that he might feel in my absence, like being torn from your mother or your protector.

I stroked his face and whispered, “When my touch is gone, my magic will remain. Use it carefully and wisely, and you will find great love. It won’t always be easy, but hope will see you through it.”

As he stepped back, he didn’t need to speak. We shared something stronger than apologies and more honest. Our spirits had touched. I believe he will always be a part of me.

And I hope that I will always be a part of him. And that he uses the magic I gave him to infect others.

With kindness. And mercy.

And hope.

Just one more…

Just one more tender kiss,
against the soft, sensitive skin under my chin,
the sweet spot on my wrist or the ticklish crook of my arm,
across my collarbone or the dip at the base of my throat,
on one or both of my soft, delicious breasts,
just above my belly button or lower,
on a different button.

Just one more wet, swirling lick,
over my delicate points that long for your attention,
even after enduring your luxurious torture,
against my swollen lips or inside their slippery folds,
deep inside my ever aching core or down further, still,
to venture where you’ve never gone before.

Just one more demanding pinch,
of my soft, round behind which never gets enough attention.

Just one more smack, …hurt me, please?

Just one more bite, …you know the spot.

Just one more command,
Just one more naughty word,
Just one more sweet name,
Just one more delectable taste,
Just one more exhilarating thrust.

Just one more rare occasion where you’re in charge, and I am not.

Just one more moment of being wanted by you.

Just one more minute where the only thing that matters to you is me.

Just one more second of being yours, in the most perfect way.

Just one more incredible release, that mixes our breath, essence, and soul.

Just one more…

kiss

Just one more hypnotic kiss, cuddled in your lap, my fingers tangled in your beard, and our hearts racing each other to “I love you’s.”

Just one more…

Dear momma…

I know you feel me, in here, spinning and dancing, flipping and kicking. It is soooo much fun!! I hope you don’t mind.

I want you to know, I really like it when you sing. Especially the crazy songs you and bubbie make up. He’s funny!

When you swing or walk, I get real sleepy. But, I love it when you rock and sing. I hope you do that a lot. Forever.

I love it when Daddy tickles you. It makes me giggle, too. And when you stay up late talking. I like his voice, it’s nice.

I’m sorry about waking you up at night to give me milk already. I really like that stuff. It’s yummy. I’m also sorry that means you have to get up again to go potty… But I’m growing! I need my milk. And you may as well get used to it, now!

I can’t really be sorry about the other foods. You can blame me for your cravings, I’m ok with it. As long as you keep giving in when it’s something I really want.

I’m getting bigger, and I know sometimes I make you uncomfortable. But, it’s really cushy in here and makes me want to bounce. I know you like that too. Even if you complain.

I know, because you do it too. You play that fun, thumpy music, and dance around. When I’m born, I hope you’ll still bounce me like that.

I love you, momma. I can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re even prettier than I imagine.

And don’t worry. I don’t really like pale colors either. I bet we both look better in bright pink, anyway!!

Love,
Your dancing flower
(19 weeks)

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Flower Baby by picturebaby via DeviantArt.com

Love Drunk

Evening snuggles
Sleepy talks
Sweetness rains
Honest thoughts

Soft touches
Warmest kiss
Love nibbles
Delicious bliss

Passion grows
Heat expands
Pleasure found
Mouth and hands

Tender turns
Lust explodes
You demand
Open folds

Lost and found
Repeatedly
Until you leave
Your seed in me

Arms envelope
Delicately
Whispering, “you
Belong to me.”

Giggled hope
Mind swimming
World slows
Heart grinning

Ecstasy leads
Temporarily
Devotion holds
Permanently

Intoxicated by
Emotion from you
Perhaps addiction
Will grip me too.

In this moment
Gift from above
I am yours
Drunk with love

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Lovers Laugh by MoofyModeling via DeviantArt.com

We Could

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Morning Cuddle by LordSylvanus via DeviantArt.com

I  could lie here beside you for hours.

Rubbing your neck and back, marking secrets on your skin with my fingertips, giggling and sighing softly when you guessed them, and pulling myself closer to you with each moment.

Eventually my warm body pressed against you, and wrapped around you, could send it’s own magical messages through you.

You could turn to touch my face and stroke my hair, whispering your bliss or gazing into my soul, entranced by my joyful eyes.

I could scratch through your beard, adoringly, until your eyes closed and complete contentment washed over you, leaving the sweetest smile on your lips.

We could make love and revel in it. Marinating in the pleasure of our lust and connection, enveloped in the exquisite perfection of each other.

We could stay in our bubble of passion until life forced our revival.

We could create our world however we want… force life to bend to our creation.

We could talk, dream, or luxuriate in that which only we share.

We could.

Can we?

Enchanted

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Enchanted Forest by Alphie0216 via DeviantArt.com

Your arms, your grasp,
Your breath at my ear,
Your beard on my neck,
Your lips and tongue sear.

My mind, my heart,
My tears wet my pillow,
My body defies me,
My breath becomes shallow.

Your fingers, your rhythm,
Your touch is so knowing
Your desire interupts me,
Your love just keeps growing.

My mouth, my core,
My lust is so sinful,
My thoughts disappearing,
My hope wonderful.

Your eyes, your soul,
Your whispered delight,
Your true love making,
Your satisfaction, so right.

My arms, my grasp,
My forced restitution,
My will bent to you,
My only solution.

Your final, your forever,
Your only wish granted,
Your rediscovered love,
Your life, enchanted.

My magic, my fate,
My truth to be slanted,
My growth to be known,
My life, enchanted.

Our dreams, or infinity,
Our world replanted,
Our sweet, simple everything,
Our life. Enchanted.

Magic Garden

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The magic of spring refuses to go unnoticed.

My tulips in full bloom…

That snow-ball bush burgeoning with the promise of floral explosion…

Hostas reaching through the earth with more vibrancy than any year before…

Strawberry vines taking over my not quite forgotten vegetable garden, peppering the ground with sweet, white flowers…

Basil perfumes the air, along with the tiny, violet buds popping open on my lilac bush…

Soaking up the evening sun and languishing in the warm breeze…

Listening to the happy songs of the frogs, birds and crickets…

Breathing in the life all around and within me…

The magic of my garden is working hard to fill me up, light my smile and make me whole.

My magic.
The magic I make.
In my garden.

Runaway

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She longs to disappear, to the ocean, to the coast. Let salty air cleanse her weary heart. Feel the fine sand soothe her broken soul. Allow the tepid water to wipe her troubled mind. Send her spirit into the white capped waves, to escape.

She dreams of being free, nothing to tether her to this world or the next. Nothing making demands of her, no responsibilities to consider, no expectations to manage, no one to hurt her…

But no one to love.

Runaway… Run back home. Be loved. Be present. Be real.

The Drive

It’s late and we are only halfway through our drive. I’ve done my best to stay awake, but find my eyes simply won’t stay open.

I feel you look over at me before your hand slips lightly onto my bare knee. The hot humid air from outside is just barely made tolerable by the A/C and I’m grateful you told me to wear the shorter dress, even though I’m certain it wasn’t only for my comfort.

“I’m drowsy too, little girl. Stay awake and tell me a story.”

I force my eyes open and see the sleepiness in your eyes. But something else. That spark that makes me squeeze my thighs together and sigh. That expression that I simply cannot refuse.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, straightening myself in my seat before turning toward you. I lay my temple against the headrest and watch you, thinking about the story I might tell.

I know the kind of story you want, and my mind spins with ideas, but when your sad eyes capture mine, your gaze is like an antenna. Your story rolls off my tongue as though it had been waiting for release.

A heady mix of lust and passion with a hint of suspense and a dash of mystique bubbles up from that place deep inside me that you seem to access so easily.

I’m excited by the words I’ve woven for you. Your raspy sighs hint at your own arousal as well, and soon, your fingers skim upward from my knee, slipping beneath the hem of my cotton dress. My legs part, in their own submission to you, and I wonder if my body will ever listen to me in your presence.

As you reach the sheer fabric between my thighs, the low rumble from your throat signals your awareness of my wetness.

“Take them off, little girl. Let me see what’s mine.”

My whole body responds to your voice. Your words. Your ownership. I slowly raise my skirt over my hips and watch you suck in a breath at the sight of my sweet, lace edged panties with the satin bow in front. I slip my thumbs beneath the strings on either side and lift my bottom so that I can slide them down my now quivering thighs.

I start to leave them around my knees, but you whisper for me to give them to you, eliciting another surge of arousal from deep within me.

I tug them down, pulling my bare feet through them and fold them before placing them in your waiting hand, blushing furiously. Lifting them to your nose and inhaling deeply, the heat in my cheeks increases and I drop my chin to hide my embarrassment.

After stuffing them into your pocket, you lift my chin and growl, “So sweet, baby doll. …Now show me.”

Again, my thighs part and I lift my hem. The interior lights in the car are barely enough to see by, but my skin is clearly damp. I watch you intently. Will you tell me to touch myself? Will you reach for me? Will you simply force me to remain like this, exposed, for the rest of the trip?

You look up at my face which must give away my thoughts, because you chuckle softly and pat my knee, turning to watch the road. I let out a soft sigh and grip the edge of my dress in frustration. I try closing my eyes to quell my thoughts of taking matters into my own hands.

I may enjoy discipline, sometimes, but I don’t relish willfully disobeying you.

When I feel the car slow and turn off the highway, I lift my eyelids to look at you, but not out the window. Are you too tired to continue? Too aroused? Are you stopping for a hotel? You grin at me and nod your head toward the windshield as we stop completely.

We are looking out over a small city, on the edge of a large hill. It’s a beautiful sight, the twinkling lights off the town below us, against the starlit evening sky. The clearing is small, but we aren’t far from the highway. I look back into your eyes, “Where are we, Sir?”

You do not answer. Instead, rolling down the windows and switching off the ignition before unlatching your seatbelt and turning toward me with clear motive written all over your face. Your fingers unlatch my own belt, sliding over my belly and leaning in closely so that I can feel your warm breath on my face.

I start to pant, your proximity turning me into a bubble of desire just waiting to be popped. The night breeze blows through the car and across my naked flesh making me open myself wider.

“My little slut…” You whisper before teasing my mouth with your own while your fingers slide up and down my wet slit. I moan and arch, still gripping my hem. Your beard tickles my chin and I sigh deeply as your lips glide over my jaw.

My ass is practically off the seat as my body invites you in, to explore, to invade, but your fingers still torment, barely skimming my slick folds. “Please, Sir… More?” I whimper.

“What do you want, little girl?” Your voice in my ear sends tremors through me, before you gently nibble down my neck, the fingers of your right hand tugging down the strap of my sundress.

“Oh, please, Daddy. I don’t know…”
“That’s right, sweet girl. But, I do.”

Your teeth sink into my shoulder just as you slide two fingers inside me. “No orgasms without permission,” you growl as my muscles clench around you. How do you know? How is it you understand my body better than I do?

As you grip my pussy, with two fingers inside and your palm grinding against my clit, your mouth seems to be everywhere but where I want it. On mine. I let go of my skirt and lift my hands to your cheeks, but you pull back and give me that look. The one that makes me say, “Yes, Sir,” even when you’ve given no command.

“Tilt your seat back, then sit on those impatient fingers of yours, baby girl.”

As I obey, you pull down the front of my dress, the ruched top giving you plenty of access. I’m already moaning when your lips find my nipple, digging my fingernails into the backs of my thighs to keep my hands from wandering again.

Just when I’m sure I can’t take anymore, your lips make their way back to mine and you grip the back of my neck tightly, kissing me hard and thrusting your tongue against mine.

I feel myself teetering on the edge of orgasm when your fingers wriggle inside me and your thumb presses against my clit before circling, slowly. “Oh, God…,” I groan into your mouth and you pull back watching me.

I stare into your eyes, trying to decide if I should beg or let go, and suffer the repercussions. You smirk at me and pull your hand away. I whine and lift my ass in the air again, trying to will your return.

You kiss me again, then lean back, licking my juices off your fingers. Settling back into your seat, you unzip your jeans and pull out your delicious cock. “You cum, when I cum,” you whisper, stroking yourself lightly.

I climb onto my knees, licking my lips, not caring if I climax at all, anymore. I only want to taste you. Forever, your cum slut.

I start to bend toward your lap, but you stop me, wrapping your fingers around my throat and pulling me to your lips one more time.

After a kiss that takes my breath away, you hold me there looking behind me. “You’re being watched, pretty girl.”

As you let go, I look behind me and see a couple of young men staring at us from the tree line. They are holding beer cans, and appear to be accustomed to it, but look too young to be drinking. Clearly, this is a teenage party spot, and I look back to you for instruction.

My cheeks are blazing, as I already know what you are going to say, “How about a performance, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. I’m not sure what you have in mind, but the humiliation I feel only serves to increase my arousal. I want you to show me off, even if it is in the most embarrassing way a girl could ever imagine.

“Good girl,” you breathe, and my body convulses with those words.

You step out of the car, walking around it slowly before opening my door and pulling me out with you. The clearing is grassy, which is a relief to my feet, and very quickly to my knees, as you push me down in front of you.

You don’t acknowledge the boys at all, who are now wide eyed with mouths agape. I look up at you, while sitting on my feet, and grin, my cheeks still burning. My breasts are still exposed, as is your cock, and I’m sure neither of those young men have seen much of either.

“May I suck your cock, please, Sir?”

I smile at your grin and nod, but want you to speak. I want them to hear your Dominance.

“May I use my hands, Sir?”

“On yourself, sweet girl. While I fuck your pretty mouth.”

I lift my skirt, so they can see me slide my fingers over my bare pussy and one of them drops his beer. I slide my middle finger deep inside and moan before opening my mouth and leaning forward to press my tongue against you.

I look up at you again, sucking and swirling your head before sliding onto you and pulling back slowly as a hiss escapes your lips. I open my thighs further and moan as I deliberately release your cock from my lips and glide my tongue down your length to the side of your sac.

“Yes, baby, lick my balls,” you groan, lifting your cock up your belly and stroking it while I lathe your underside and suck each side into my mouth, lightly swirling my tongue around them.

“Fuck,” I hear one of the boys mutter as he rubs himself over his shorts. When I glance over at them, they both look aroused, but there is something different about the boy in jeans.

Gazing back up at you, I rub myself lightly and open my mouth wide as you grab the sides of my head and push yourself into my mouth. Slowly at first, but I see that you are about to do exactly what you said, and pull my hands up to your thighs.

“Pinch those titties, little girl, like I would.” As you slowly push yourself deep into my throat, I cup my heavy breasts and squeeze my nipples tightly, groaning against your shaft.

After a few long strokes, you slam into my tonsils and hold me there. I swallow, trying not to gag or gasp, and you grunt at the sensation, before pulling back and fully fucking my mouth.

When you stop, I look up at you, expectantly, all but forgetting our audience. I want your cum, and feel disappointment fall over my face until you growl, “Up on the hood, I need to fuck you.”

Oh, yes! I’ve been aching to be filled by you all day. When I don’t stand fast enough for you, you grab my arm and yank me up, against you, and I rise to my tippy toes, hoping you’ll kiss me. Show those young men that tasting yourself on your girls lips is wonderful.

You do, and lift my dress to squeeze my bare ass cheeks. Your kiss is intoxicating. I wrap my arms around your neck and you lift my bottom, so I wrap my legs around you too. You slide your beard across my neck and whisper in my ear, “Being wrapped in you is the best part of this performance, baby doll… So far.”

I smile against your cheek, and sigh with pure bliss. When you set me on the hood, you unwrap yourself and step back. I feel so exposed, my face heats up again and I start to close my legs.

“Uh-uhhh, sweet girl. Open up,” you rumble, and when I do, you slap my pussy three times. I lean back thrusting myself forward, and you growl, low and deep, “You wanna show these boys what a pain slut you are, my bitch?”

I nod at you, panting and within moments, you have my arms folded behind me, pull my dress up over my head holding them in place, and are pushing me back to lie on them. You pull my hips toward you and lift my feet to the edge of the car, so that my pussy is spread, wide open, for anyone watching.

I look back at the boys, and the one in jeans has his dick in his hand, but is just holding it, staring at us intently. The other one is vigorously working his own erection, inside his shorts, and is sweating profusely.

The first couple swats land lightly and quickly on my lips, and I feel my arousal splatter on my thighs. “You are so wet, dirty girl. Just from sucking my cock!” You rub my clit for a moment and I start to writhe. “Such a little slut, you want more?”

“Yes, Daddy, please?!”

The boy with his hand inside his pants has pulled himself free, and is grunting hard. “Hit her again,” he says softly, and you smile broadly, still not acknowledging them fully, but you pull back and smack my clit hard, making me cry out, then moan loudly as you rub me, wildly. I could cum, and think I might, but will myself to hold it in.

“More?” I know you’re asking them, so I look at them and nod my head.

The kid in the jeans is still just staring, but the other shouts, “Yeah, fuck yeah. Then fuck her hard.”

You spank my pussy until my thighs threaten to close then you thrust your cock inside me. I almost can’t pay attention to the boys, anymore. My body is losing the battle to prevent climax. I look at the boy in the jeans, hoping to distract myself, and he sees me staring.

Are you ok? He mouths, and I gasp, “Yes! Please let me cum, Daddy, please?!?!”

You don’t answer, so I look back at you, you are shaking your head no, but whisper, “Cum, baby girl. Make it look good.”

My body convulses with pleasure that I’m sure these young men could not understand. I cry out and let my voice do what it will as wave after wave hits me and shoots through me. When they turn to after shocks, I look up at you and try to fill my face with apologetic concern. You’ve stopped and are watching me.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I couldn’t stop it!”

“You are a bad little girl,” you smile, pulling out of me, “turn over.”

I do the best I can, with my arms bound behind me, you have to help me. You pull my legs down so that my toes touch the grass, and slide your fingers across my ass.

With my cheek pressed against the hood, I look back and see the concern in the one boy’s eyes, so I say, in my sweetest voice, “Spank me, Daddy. I deserve it, I want it.”

You chuckle, and I’m sure they hear it, and can tell it is an act now. As I stare at the boys, you begin, striking me hard enough to make me flinch, but not cry out. The boy in the shorts shoots his load, and I get a strange sense of satisfaction from that.

The boy in the jeans just glares at me, hard cock in hand.

Your fingers dip between my thighs, and the pleasure closes my eyes. I want your cock inside me, and I want that boy to see that. So I beg.

As you continue punishing my ass and teasing my dripping cunt, I beg and plead for your cock and your cum. When you finally slide into me, I think I might explode, but hold it together until your thumb pushes into my ass. I come apart, my juices dripping down my thighs, and the car, and I feel your hand come down on my ass again.

I think I hear one of the boys speak. I open my eyes to see the boy who blew his wad stroking himself again. Hard again so quickly, oh, sweet youth.

The boy in the jeans is stroking himself, now. And I watch him intently while you drive deep and hard into me. You lean down over me and whisper, “You like being watched, don’t you, little one?”

Before I can answer, you pull me up by my hair, sliding out of me and spinning us, so I’m facing the boys. Completely exposed, you wrap your hand around my throat and lift me so your cock presses between my cheeks. I feel you bend your knees while gripping my hip and pushing into my ass. Filling me painfully, but blissfully.

“Cum again, for them, sweet girl.”

I’m panting with some crazy blend of discomfort and pleasure. You pull my dress off my arms, lift my left hand around the back of your neck and then glide my right hand between my thighs.

My mind is spinning, my eyes are locked with the boy in the jeans, but I’m frozen.

Until he mouths, Touch yourself.

You whisper in my ear, “Do it,” and I swim in the exotic feelings coursing through me.

I stroke myself in rhythm with my young voyeur, and he quickly catches on. Speeding up and slowing down to see what he can do. I wonder if he will become addicted to the power of this moment, and perhaps that is how a dominant is born.

When your fingers find my nipples, my eyes close, and the young man says calmly, “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Again, I start to turn to you, unsure about accepting orders from another man, but you hold my head firmly and whisper, “Do it,” again.

You begin to move inside me, and the odd sensation makes me bleary eyed, but I blink rapidly to focus on this boy whom I suddenly, and desperately want to cum for. Because you will it.

“Push a finger inside.” I do.

“Two fingers.” I do.

He tells me how to touch myself, to fuck my pussy, to lick my fingers, to pinch my nipples… And as his confidence grows, he steps closer and closer, but never over reaches.

When he’s five feet from us, I feel you tensing and he sees it, taking a step back. He looks at you and whispers, “How do I make her cum?”

I feel you smile against my ear, before you push my fingers away and say softly, but loud enough for him to hear, “If you are in command, and she feels it… If you make her feel safe and protected… If you give her your heart and she gives you her body… And she’s in the right frame of mind, you just tell her to.”

You kiss my neck and press firmly against my clit before growling against my ear, “Cum for Daddy, baby doll!”

It takes no more than that, I’m on fire from watching him and listening to you, and that fire erupts. An orgasm rips through me as you grip my pussy while thrusting yourself in and out of my ass. At the height of my orgasm, you whisper in my ear to beg for his cum.

When I don’t immediately respond, you tighten your grip on my throat, and I open my eyes to see the young man standing only feet in front of us. He’s panting and watching me, but not your fingers continuing to work my pussy or my heaving chest. He’s starting at my face.

“Beg for it, precious,” he grunts as he squeezes the head of his dick, and I suck in a deep breath. He’s a natural.

“Please, Sir. Give me your cum.”

With those words, you pull out of me, whispering, “Good girl,” and push me to my knees.

With both of you in front of me, I close my eyes and stick out my tongue, waiting for the shower. I rub my clit, already on edge just from the thought of all that fluffy, white seed. You know I’m a cum slut, and I bet you planned this, though I’m not sure how.

As the first ropes hit my chest, another climax rocks through me. I feel your cum hit my tongue and then the head of your cock. I open my eyes and look up at you, sucking and licking every drop of your essence. When I pull back, the young Dom is looking down at me with a smile on his lips.

He reaches out and strokes my hair. “Good girl.”

I smile sweetly at him before remembering the other boy and looking around for him. I see him, passed out against a tree, dick still in hand. I giggle and you both chuckle at me.

After attempting to clean me up with napkins and tissues from the car, you help me slip my dress back on, but don’t give me back my panties. I smirk at you and consider asking for them, but decide to let you play your game, hoping it means more fun when we get home. And it’s so hot and sticky, I look forward to the cool, conditioned air in the car blowing up my flirty skirt.

The young Sir starts to walk away, but turns back towards me. “Do all girls like this stuff?”

“More than you’d think. I think you’ll know, you’re a natural Dominant, Sir,” my voice drops, as I suddenly feel embarrassed.

You sit me in the car and buckle my belt for me. “You are amazing, sweet girl. Close your eyes and rest for a minute…” Kissing me and slipping your fingers beneath my dress, you grip me firmly. “This is mine, and mine alone. But what you did for that kid tonight will change the next few years, if not the rest of his life.”

I smile and blush, thinking all I did was everything you said, …and then I understand.

After talking with him for a moment and checking on his friend, who’s starting to wake, you climb in beside me.

As we pull away to continue the drive, you reach for my knee again.

“Don’t fall asleep, little girl. It’s my turn to tell a story…”