Secrets with a wife.

It didn't seem to matter the time of day, the needs where the same. She would contact me and make claims of wants and desires. Mostly of wanting to be dominated, but in a way that would be safe. To escape from the settling that she had done years ago. I knew by all measurable standards it was wrong, yet here she stood at my doorstep wearing something meant to seduce. It wasn't hard to see her, and her need for something more than her life offered. I found it adorable the way she tried to use those tricks from her past to tease me. As if I needed a mask upon who she was to demand that I take absolute control. She would try and lead me on and then quickly claim that she shouldn't be. But yet here she was, at my door, seducing me. I did not, do not, feel the need to explain how or why I was willing to take such risk. She already knew it was far less for me than it was for her ideal of what risk was. Inviting her in; she closed the door shy, despite the way she had planned things to be. I offered her a drink and a seat, knowing she would accept anything I was willing to give. Some may think it egotistical to believe I could have such power, control, over another. I would be lying if I claimed to not know. The usual game of laughter and wit played out upon my couch. Her eyes never being able to hold fast to my own. She would touch me and then retract, worried or concerned with morals I suppose. The time past and I tired of watching her attempt to act as if she was here to talk. My hand on her wrist I pulled her towards my face. My lips to hers had to be forced as I needed to penetrate her excuses. Sliding my hand to the back of her neck I pulled, fingers lost upon her scalp and my other upon her waist. Even with such power I could not help but be lost in the way her tongue found mine. The way she breathed and her body moved under my control, possessed me. I made a fist of her hair and tugged at her body, I wanted to use her the way she had imagined. It moved fast after that, and she did little to stop me. In vane she would push my body away, but with little effort to convince me. Some power overtook us both, the way our hands moved. Despite her efforts to claim to want to only talk, her fingers found their way to my groin. The noises made where the same as if she was imagining the way I would feel once too deep inside. Her buttons pulled easily from her blouse, far easier than my hands move to between her barely parted legs. My grip firm on the flesh that blocked my passage to her growing warmth. A certain kind of arrogance gave me the power I needed to persuade her to open for me. My hand and tongue my tools, to move her into a rhythm that would allow me what I too needed. My confidence grew as did her guard let down. My persuasive moves only added to the power I held. Leaning into her, I began to push myself upon her flesh. Clawing and biting at her bits that where exposed beyond that of cloth. Her skirt did little to offer protection from my forward motions. Not that she did anything to resist the urges she, without secret, had wanted all along. She fed me; and in such a way that I could not help but want, need, to give her that which she longed for. I proceeded without cation. Listening close as I was encouraged by her gasp for air. My digits moved and pressed her parts, my behavior paralyzing her from even speaking a word. I manipulated her moisture to let my fingers and commands push her beyond her limits. Her gasp for air and her yearning for more did not discourage my acts. I cannot recall the exact moment that she tried to take back that control using her femininity. Yet it did not happen the way she intended, not after I had taken so much. With force I pushed deeper, wanting to draw from her loins that which duress had taken long ago. An impassioned response came as did she. Her release evidenced by that which now soaked my hand and further aroused my desires to move her along her path of wanting. I sat back upon the cushions and waited for her to catch her breath. A look of self satisfaction painted across my identity. She wanted to return the favor, to give back something to repay a debt. Not expecting that her own flavor placed into her mouth would be the return I desired. The swelling in my ego was not that of giving such pleasure at my hand. It was merely the knowledge of finding her wanting, that gave me pause to push even more.

 
© Jeph Rants