He stands behind me. I can feel his presence before I can feel his body pressed against mine. It’s always been that way with him. Knowing he was there before he said a word. A connection I shared with only him. Much in the same way my body responds to his commands, his touches, his wishes.

“Such a beautiful sight to come home to.” He whispers in my ear. Forgoing my usual jeans and t-shirt after work this afternoon, I decided to go for something sexier. Something he’d like to see when stepping into our apartment after a long day of accounting work. It’s tax season, his days are only getting longer.  The black maxi dress I slipped into had been a birthday present, but we both knew it was a gift we both enjoyed. I rolled up my black thigh highs, remembering how his eyes lit up the last time he watched me dress for him.

“I was hoping you’d like it.” I grin, but don’t turn around.  I remain in position in our bedroom, facing the wall, hands behind my head and my legs spread.  He loves this position because it opens me to him. He can grab, pinch, tickle any part of me he chooses without having to worry about anything getting in his way.

“I always like when my slut gets herself ready to serve me.” His words act as quick fingers fluttering over my clit. “Let me see how ready you are.” He presses his body to mine, his erection pushes against my ass. I’d love to feel his open palm across my ass cheeks, to be bent over his knee for a spanking, it’s been too long, but he’ll decide what happens now, and I’m in his hands willingly.

He pulls my dress up over my hips, displaying the fact that I hadn’t put on any panties.  His lips press against my neck, and I hear the low growl of appreciation escape him as much as feel the rumble of his chest behind me.  Thick fingers slowly make thier way between my legs, finding my heat, my desire.  “Oh, such a wet little slut.” I can imagine the smile on his face when he feels how much I need him.  It really only takes the mere thought of his hands on me, his domination ruling me, to make my cunt slick for him. He wants it that way, he’s trained me that way.

“Oh, fuck.” I groan, and roll my head back, resting on his shoulder. His lips are now close to my ear. I can hear his heavy breath, feel the heat with each exhale.

“Keep your hands up. I want to play with my slut. Come for me quickly. Can you do that for me, slut? Can you fuck my hand hard and fast and come when I say?”

“Yes, Sir.” I nod, dropping my right hand to circle around his neck and hold him to me.  He kisses my arm and slips two fingers into my heated entrance.  There is no foreplay, no easing into deep end, his fingers pump into my hard and fast.  He doesn’t ignore my clit, knowing it’s the secret to my orgasm.  His fingers dleave me, rubbing my clit hard, before dipping int omy again. My hips arch toward him, and beging fucking them like the slut he constnatly reminds me taht I am.

His slut. Only his.  For him I would do almost anything, because he has done so much for me. We may lurk in the shadows, but when together we create the most amazing light.  For that, I willingly give him my body, my mind, and my submission. For that I will fuck his hand like the wanton slut he needs me to be. For that, I will come hard for him to show him again and again how obedient my body is to his commands.

“Now, slut. And don’t hold in your screams. I want to hear it. Fuck if the neighbors can hear.” Our bedroom wall is shared by the couple next door and so many times I worry they can hear what goes on in our bedroom. For now, I won’t. For now I’ll focus on the pressure building in my core, the heat rising in my body, burning my skin as his fingers flawlessly stroke my pussy and bring me the very edge of the world.

“May I come on your hand, Sir?” I ask. He’s already told me to do so, but asking makes everything so much more formal, so much more…us.

“Yes, slut. Come on my hand. Make me wet with your pussy juice, and when you’re done, you’ll drop to your knees and lick my fingers clean.” Always, he knows what to say to push the button inside of me. The button that opens the door to my orgasm and lets hte waves rush over my body.

I open my mouth and let the built up scream out. Thanking him, begging him, yelling out the pure enjoyment of feeling my release clench my muscles and release them. Slowly, my orgasm slows to an end, and with it leaving me a heavy breathing mess in his hands.  He kisses my cheek, my arm, and removes his hand from my pussy.

“Down.” He whispers and with every bit of grace he expects of me, I drop to my knees, my hands now rest behind my back, and my mouth is open for him.  I stick out my tongue when he holds out his hand, and he uses is as a cloth, cleaning my juices from his hand. “Such a good, slut today.” He runs his fingers down my jaw. “Keep it open.” He taps my tongue and goes to the zipper of his trousers.

His erection presses against the material, tenting his pants. The part I waited all day for finally arrives. The moment of serving my husband, my master, my owner. The feel of his thick cock as it glides down the length of my tongue and into my throat sends me to another level of arousal.

And it all started with his simple touch.


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