Homework

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I’m sentimental. I know I am. It is the little things that appeal to me. Sometimes a light touch is enough to send me back in memories alone. Most of the time though, it is just his voice. Something about it. It has always done something to me. It goes with his whole presence. To say he’s cocky isn’t right, just extremely sure of himself. He KNOWS he’s good, and I can’t exactly argue with him on most points.

Even though I’ve been married for 9 years, and have had enough escapades before I got married, I still manage to be pretty naïve, at least compared to him. I consider myself pretty open and honest, but, he pushed me. He made me think of myself in ways I never had.

I’m thinking specifically of the last time we were together. It is hard to believe it has been 8 months ago. I look back and can’t believe he found me attractive, I was nearly 4 months pregnant and was starting to round out too much for my vanity to like. We met at our “usual” hotel, I’d been out shopping that afternoon, and he called to tell me the room number. Even though this was not the first time I’d met him, my heart still started beating faster. I was always nervous. More so about whether or not I pleased him, than I was about getting caught – after all, we were both married to other people.

I still find it amusing that parts of that afternoon are still clear as a bell to me, while others are simply a fuzzy pleasant memory. He got up to let me in – he’d been laying on the bed watching tv. That amused me, and I’m not sure why. I suppose, I should have been more coy, more shy, but I never seem to be able to control myself. I know what I want, and have never been very good at hiding those desires. pendik escort I want him, inside of me. And quickly. He liked the way I smelled, which made me laugh because I had long ago quit being able to smell my perfume.

I always enjoy the way he handles me. Not all that rough, but firm. He gets his way. He even tried to give me control, but I was too shy to take it. Too unsure of myself. I remember riding him, being filled so completely and playing with my own clit until I climaxed. I remember he said I had the cowgirl down pat, that I was good at it. I remember too the way he looked at me, the heat in his ice blue eyes always made my heart beat faster. Who am I kidding, the way he looked at me while I was fucking him was enough to make me cum on its own. I wonder if he knew that.

He laughed at me because my involuntary response everytime he made me cum was, “WOW”. He would say he lost count of how many “wow’s” there were. We were both worn out after a good hours worth of him fucking me. We lay there, exhausted, content, I was scared we’d fall asleep and be missed at home that night. I was still amazed at how much he was interested in my pleasure. I’m usually a once if I’m lucky kind of girl. And here is a guy 15 years my senior kicking my ass in bed. I’d be ashamed if I didn’t enjoy it so much.

That’s when the questions started. He pushed me out of my comfort zone. He asked me what the kinkiest thing I’d ever done was, sadly, I had no good answer. He then proceeded to regale me with stories of his past experiences. Some were enough to make me blush, although they certainly had me curious. He had given me “Homework” before, told me to try new things or be ready the escort pendik next time to try new things… It always excited me. This time, he’d asked me what my greatest fantasy was, or something along those lines. I couldn’t answer. At the time, I’m not sure I really knew myself. I just had never put any thought into it. And here he was telling me to put thought into it, and be ready to tell him the next time. Sadly, there never was a next time, so I guess I’ll have to try to vocalize those fantasy moments here. I’m still shy enough that I am faltering through this as I write.

I guess all of my fantasies have to do with control. In my day to day life, I thrive on control. I hate feeling as if I don’t have control of things in my world. I hate to ride in the passenger seat – I’d rather drive. I don’t much care for being given directions, I prefer to find my own way. This should really be humorous as he had been my boss for quite a few years. I should have been used to being controlled by him, at least in mundane ways. I feel helpless when I don’t have control. I get scared when I’m not in control of a situation. So, I guess, my fantasy is to lose control. To have control taken away from me, and not in a rape situation, just being handled and maybe a little roughly by someone I trust. I want to be fucked up against a wall, just held there by a body bigger than mine. Pinned. No way down, until I’ve been fucked senseless. Although it still is scary to me, I want to have my hands tied so that I can’t touch back. I want to be driven crazy and not be able to do much about it. I want someone to not touch me as if I might break. I want someone to be a little rough with me.

Part of that pendik escort bayan I guess comes from the man I married. He is always as gentle as can be with me. I’m always in control. He worries that he’ll hurt me. After nine years, I want something different. Someone not afraid of breaking me.

What is ironic to me, is that after that discussion, he gave me part of that fantasy without ever knowing it. He pulled me to the corner of the bed, pushed me down into the mattress, and fucked me from behind. He pulled my arms back behind me and held them there with one hand, and pulled my hair with his other hand. I’ve never felt more alive or sexier in my life. I was abused just a little, and it turned me on in ways I’ve never felt before. I suppose it made an impression on him as well, as he mentions it from time to time, being held down on the corner of the bed… I can only assume it holds as many good memories for him as it does for me.

Since then, that homework has all but obsessed my every waking thought. I am always thinking of what would feel good to me, what my newest fantasy would be, and then I dream of those things happening. I’ve woken myself up from those dreams on several occasions, sweating, wet and dripping, and wondering how I didn’t wake my husband as he sleeps beside me. He is the one who encouraged me to buy my first adult toy. My own little purple vibrator. I suppose I did when I realized that I wouldn’t be seeing him any more in that capacity. I needed a release – and a battery operated device doesn’t care how rough it is with you or how often it is used. I feel liberated in so many ways because of the homework he gave me that afternoon.

I’m also finding that this is a bit voyeuristic as I am the one who led him to this site, and we often discuss favorite stories from here. Now, I’m writing my side of the story of the times we’ve been together. C’est la vie. Too late now.

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