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New husband exposes his wife to the wedding party.
Nibbling and tongue-circling another woman's clit or the swollen head of his cock. Even -- and this shocked her sensibilities not a little -- kneeling at his feet, submissively, her cheek resting against his thigh, gazing at his lovely cock, while her own more submissive female companion gently stroked fingertips along her trembling pussy lips.
She shook her head slightly and tried to calm her breathing down. Dominant man, submissive her, dominant her, submissive other woman. She tried to assemble the geometry of it; a sensual naked triangle without jealousy or competition or...well, any kind of disruption. It wasn't what she'd expected, but it seemed do-able. Really do-able.
She knows she's getting way ahead of herself. Basing too much on what she desired and not enough on -- what? -- reality? What the hell was reality anyway? Didn't you make your own realities? She knew that was how it worked. The old times, the old ways of separation, of just doing things one way or not at all -- those had played out with not so good results. So, why not try something different? Why not just go with whatever flow he seemed to direct? He did seem to know what she really wanted and he was good with it, so why fight it with her silly guilt and worries? She knows they will pass and fade if she just lets him...do his thing, work his magic on her, and let her do her own thing, too.
She read over his last email again, nodding at every sentence with affirmation. I can do this, she thought. I really can...
"You will call me Sir," he wrote. "It will be a sign that you respect me and accept what is between us. I will try to explain -- though it really needs no words -- what is between us. You want to feel both desired and secure without all the unnecessary 'baggage' of explanations and questions and accusations. You want to feel a strong man's hand upon you, on your skin, in your hair; you want to feel his strength guiding you and his sometime tenderness caressing you, but as a knowing man does, not a doubting boy, not a pain-inflicting brute, not a man seeking elsewhere for his next conquest. You want to feel that you are his conquest and his pleasure in taking you as he pleases when he pleases."
Yeah, she thought. I know I do. "But you are not a doormat," he continued. "Not something to be trampled and forgotten. Used, yes. Used as a sensual lover, as an object and person to satisfy sexual and sensual hungers, sometimes. Physically tied sometimes, at other times merely bound by your own surrendering hungers to be taken. And, in your own dominant self, doing that to another. To your own submissive one, as you choose."
She shifted in her chair, okay, really it was more squirming, as her body grew warmer and more restless. Could she see herself in her mind, doing that with another woman? Tying her down, thighs spread, the perfume of her desires rising from her pussy, her breasts rising and falling erratically, her eyes half-closed in eager surrender? Whispering to her submissive lover "I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever thought possible"? She could almost feel the warmth of the other woman's skin as her tongue slightly protruded and flicked upward, imagining the woman's gasping breath as she teased her clit. Suddenly, she mentally felt his presence behind her, the thick head of his cock probing into her own wet slit. Fucking her as she licked the other woman, his hands tangling in her hair and pulling sharply with every thrust of his shaft deep inside her. Oh, hell, she thought, would it be like that? Could it be? Her shoulders trembled and she swallowed hard. The words of his email swimming before her glazing eyes. Was she reading too much between the lines or...was he really intimating how it might be...with what they shared between them?
Her reply had asked him for inspiration and guidance.