She went to the door, slightly annoyed because she was just getting into the groove of cleaning the house. The kitchen floor was drying, and she was just getting the first load of laundry sorted to put in the washer. Her husband had been home with the flu Wednesday through Friday of last week, and with the taking care of him and the kids, the house went to hell. Plus, there was that late-night neighborhood bonfire Saturday night. Jeesh! It was really fun, but she wasn’t a young kid anymore. She needed most of Sunday to recover from the drinks and the staying up way too late. When her husband left this morning, she got the kids off to school and got right to work on the house. Now, the fucking doorbell interrupted her flow.
When she opened the door, she caught her breath. There at her door was her neighbor, which wouldn’t normally be anything out of the ordinary. He and his wife were over at the house at least three times a week. Their kids were friends, and between sports carpools, driving to the mall and arcades, and hanging out, they have become pretty friendly over the past three years; however, on this particular Monday morning, the events of Saturday night began to come back.
“That was some bonfire the other night,” he said, stepping into her living room after she unlatched the door. “Good times!”
“Yeah,” she answered, sighing. “I am not in college, anymore. I was hurting yesterday!”
“Well,” he smiled, “I wasn’t completely rise-and-shine myself. Cindy gave me the silent treatment all day, yesterday.” He leaned in close and spoke in almost a whisper. “You know what, though? I’m glad that our spouses left early on Saturday. Gave us a little time to get to know each other better.”
It was coming back to her, now. The drinking, the flirting, the conversation… He was easy to talk to, and the Jell-O shots sure helped her open up, too. She told him about how she struggled with weight when she was young, and how, when she was 10, would cry herself to sleep sometimes because she feared that nobody would want her. She developed much sooner than other girls, and that didn’t help matters. For the better part of her 7th grade year, she was the only one who wore a bra, and she was the only one who the boys would torture (more from the attention it brought to her than the pain) by snapping the strap against her back. She began to pay attention to her diet and exercise throughout high school, and she succeeded in toning her curves. The boys she dated in high school were intimidated by her body, and she really didn’t have any long-term, meaningful relationships. In college, it was an entirely different story. Her professors and the older grad students tended to pay a lot of attention to her, drawn to her reddish blond hair, green eyes, and voluptuous body. During her second year, she lost her virginity to her physics TA, and was also one of the factors in his fiancée breaking off their engagement. She didn’t intend to wreak havoc on the attached; she just found a dangerous allure in being wanted, and these men were aggressive. That turned her on quite a bit, too. She waved that time off as her wild years, stating that she married the first unattached man who pursued her.
He confided in her that her’s was more the body type he prefers, which she found odd because Cindy was the quintessential trophy wife: skinny waist, no ass, fake tits… she was a really nice person, but her body type was a dime-a-dozen around the neighborhood. He said that he and his wife married after college because they had dated since their sophomore year. The dove in headfirst, when after the career and the family, and before they knew it, there they were in the suburbs. He insisted that they were still happy, that they genuinely loved each other, and they were then just enjoying the life they build for themselves, with its normalcy. He also admitted that he and his wife had become somewhat complacent when it came to the bedroom. She remembered that at the word ‘complacent’, she giggled and clinked her bottle of Corona against his. “Right there with you, Sir!” she added, noticing how good looking he was in the orange glow of the bonfire.
He told her that he was into the kinkier, rougher side of sex, and that his wife was game for it, to an extent before they were married, but completely turned away from that type of exploration since.
Learning this, she became interested, partly because this was a bit of gossip about the neighbors that she could have (not that she would tell anyone), and partly because it turned her on. “Wait! Wait! Wait! What kiiiiiiind of kinky things are you into?” She really had no idea for which answers she was actually searching. All of her experience, despite the danger of wrecking a home, were vanilla.
The answers didn’t really matter, though, that night, because he refused to tell her, stating that they would continue the conversation when they haven’t been drinking so much. Then… oh god! Oh, god. She remembered, now. She demanded that he tell her, started pushing him and slapping at him, playfully at first, but she remembered feeling angry that she wasn’t getting her way. And, he was being so damned polite, assuring her that he WOULD tell her at a time when they were both sober.
And, then, oh god… She began to beg him to tell her, touching his chest and telling him what she was prepared to do for the information. Oh, god. The THINGS she said. And, she vaguely remembered grabbing his crotch, telling him that she’d suck his cock like a good girl if he told her.
He was absolutely nonplussed. He walked her home and made sure she got inside ok. Told her to sleep it off.
And, now, here he was. And here she was. And she was mortified.
“I am SO sorry about the other night,” she stammered, “I don’t know what got into me. I acted like an ass.”
He smiled. “Think nothing of it. How is your husband feeling?”
She looked confused. “Oh! He’s better. Back to work.”
He smiled, again. “Good. Good… So, about the other night. Do you still want to know?” As he asked this question, his eyes narrowed mischievously.
This took her off her guard, and she quickly picked up the bucket of water from washing the floor and started off towards the laundry room to empty the dirty water. “Uh… Know what?”
He let her complete her task and while she rinsed the bucket and put it away, she scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make her look like a complete idiot. When she returned to the kitchen, he was leaning against the counter, looking at her expectantly.
“Yes,” she answered, “I would like to know.”
He grinned. “Good girl.” He moved toward here, and she instinctively lowered her gaze to the floor. “Are you prepared to make good on your conditions from Saturday?” As he walked around her, he trailed his fingers from her shoulder, lightly across the back of her neck, and off her opposite shoulder, sending her flesh ablaze.
She chuckled, embarrassed. “What… of what conditions do you speak? Sir?” Her heart pounded in her chest – from embarrassment? Lust? Excitement? The Unknown? Guilt? Her mind swam trying to comprehend the events taking place in her kitchen. This man was someone she knew, someone with whom she was friendly, someone she had often thought about as attractive – and may have occasionally used as fodder for fantasy, but never in a million years would she have guessed their lives would intersect here. It was terrifying, dangerous, and incredibly hot, much more exciting than she would ever have imagined.
He stopped his pacing. “Did you really have that much to drink that you don’t remember what you said to me?” He widened his dark eyes in mock surprise.
She felt the color rush to her cheeks, and she chuckled again, “I remember, Sir.” She glanced up at him momentarily, and they locked eyes. He appeared amused, sympathetic. He let the silence hover between them, like cigarette smoke. “Ahem… Am I prepared to, um…” she glanced back up at him, embarrassed. He waited. “to make due the conditions I set?”
He gently moved her hair off her shoulder and leaned in so that his lips were just about touching her ear. “That is the question I asked you.”
Goosebumps immediately erupted on the back of her neck and her arms. For the first time since he arrived, she felt something respond deep inside her. Her breath quickened, and she relented a tiny moan. “I mean, I don’t OWE you anything, if that’s what you think.” She squeezed her eyes shut, immediately regretting her rebuttal.
“Do you think I am here to get you to do something you don’t want to do?”
That was the thing, though. She knew that he was there to feel out the situation – an aggressive move, sure; however, at no point did she feel threatened or powerless. “No, Sir. Honestly. I apologize for being rash & impetuous.”
He ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s ok. Really.” He leaned in, put his fingers on her chin, and raised her face so she would look at him. “Really.” and he smiled. “Are you nervous.”
She laughed, embarrassed, “Yes, Sir.” And lowered her gaze back to the floor. His footsteps stopped behind her. She could feel his eyes appraising her, deciding.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, so am I.”
“I would have never known, Sir. You seem so confident and in control.”
He walked back around and faced her. “There’s something about that confidence and control that you are drawn to, am I right?”
Again, the stirring deep in her stomach. The walls of her pussy became wet with the realization that, yeah, she was drawn to that confidence, and she did want to be controlled. And, she wanted to experience this with him. “Yes, Sir. Very much so.”
“That makes me very happy.”
He began to walk around her, again. The tension was intoxicating. She leaned into the sound of his steps, anticipating his touch.
“Tell me, please, how you think in your mind that this will play out.”
She raised her eyes to his and looked at him for a long time, then a slight grin crawled across her mouth. Still holding his gaze, she slowly kneeled right there in the middle of her clean, linoleum kitchen floor. Then, she clasped her left wrist in her right palm behind her back and rested her hands on her ample bottom.
“I really don’t know, Sir. You’re the boss.”
His footsteps stopped abruptly. “Oh, no. No, no. There will be PLENTY of time for me to be the boss, and for to be a good little submissive. Right now, we need to establish what you want to get out of this. Do you understand?“ He placed his hand on top of her head. “I like the kneeling, though. That is a nice touch.“
She smiled and leaned into his touch. “Well, sir, I’m new to this. But, i’ve always been drawn to the idea of submitting to a dominant man. Even when I was a little girl, I would fantasize about being shipwrecked and picked up bye a pirate or a sailor who would keep me as his slave. Of course, back then he would just hold me there against his will and make me do work around the ship and make him meals and things like that… But, then… I REALLY started getting into I Dream of Jeannie, with all that ‘Master’ talk. It really turned me on. Major Nelson had no idea how good he could have had it… I want to explore it, Sir, and I want to explore it with you. I want to be challenged. I want to be desired. I want to be used.” She shifted on her knees. “I want to be owned.”
He tilted her head back and looked down into her eyes. “Thank you for that. You are honest and creative, and I think we will have a lot of fun together.” He continued his orbit around her kneeling frame, touching her hair, her shoulder, or her face while he spoke. “I want you to know that I am not expecting you to leave your husband and kids and run away with me, nor will I ever expect that. I believe that you feel the same way. Am I correct?” She nodded. “However, if this is going to be something amazing, where we are indeed challenged, and we can grow, there will have to be trust, intimacy, understanding, and respect. We are going to have to work at these things and be empathetic of each other’s lives. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, nodding. “We also need to communicate and listen.”
He paused in front of her and touched her face. “You are absolutely right! I am glad we are on the same page. Now, I am going to shift gears a little bit, here. I plan on pushing you physically, mentally, beyond your comfort zones. Again, I realize that you are married: you are your husband’s wife; he is your husband; you are a mother to your kids. Those are your most important roles; however, when we are able to have our time, you are mine. I own you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir. I understand.”
“Remove your clothes. I want you naked for me.”
She looked up at him and removed her t-shirt, exposing her cleavage displayed in a practical bra, certainly not the one she would choose if she had known the events of this morning, then reached behind her and unfastened the clasp. He held his hand out in front of her, and she placed the garments into his palm. He folded them and placed them on the counter.
He turned around and looked at her. She kept her eyes lowered, and could feel her nipples hardening in the cool air of the kitchen. “Stand up and take off your shorts and underpants.”
“Yes, Sir.” She complied with the command, handed him the garments, which he folded and placed on the counter. Standing there in the kitchen, eyes to the floor, anticipation mounting in her heart and pussy, she felt nervous, lusty, and euphoric. She was ready to submit. She knelt back down on the floor.
He walked slowly behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Today, this shoulder is mine.” Silence. He squeezed a bit tighter.
“Yes, Sir.”
He squeezed a bit tighter. “Yes, Sir, what?”
“Yes, Sir. This shoulder is yours.”
“Good girl.” His grip loosened, and he walked in front of her. At those words, her pussy flooded, and she wriggled her hips slightly with the wave of lust that washed over her. He placed his fingers on her chin. “I own this chin.”
“Yes, Sir. This chin is yours.”
He pinched playfully, causing her to grin, then moved his fingers up to her lips. He traced their fullness with the tips of his fingers. “This beautiful mouth, I own this mouth.”
Her body shuddered involuntarily and she let out a long breath. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, “This mouth is yours.”
“To do with what I please.” He continued to trace her lips.
“Yes, Sir.” Voice shaky. “To do with as you please.”
“Yesssss.” He took the back of her head in his left palm, and pushed three fingers of his right hand into her mouth.
She closed her lips around his fingers and started to bob her head, looking into his eyes. The room filled with the wet noises of her mouth working his fingers and the heavy breathing of both of them.
“Open your mouth.” He commanded.
She complied, opening as wide as she could, and felt his fingers press down heavily on her tongue. Then, he pushed them back into her throat, and began fucking her throat with his fingers. The wet noises continued with the rhythmic, forceful movement of his hand. She moaned loudly, her voice muffled by his digital violation of her throat. She jerked backwards, gagging and coughing, and this time he moaned.
“Yes, mmmmmmmmm. We’re going to train you to take a throat fucking. What do you think?”
Her mind reeled from the filthy baseness of his words. “Yes, Sir.” She replied, panting. “I want to be a good little cocksucker for you.”
A guttural cross between a grunt and a moan escaped from his mouth, and he trailed his saliva-dripping fingers down between her breasts, across her stomach, and to her soaking pussy. “Today, this cunt is mine.” He spread her swollen lips and inserted two fingers inside her, causing her to emit a shuddering moan. Her hips jutted forward, pushing his fingers deeper. She whimpered softly as his fingers left her pussy and moved back up her stomach, between her breasts, and back into her mouth. He allowed her to taste herself on his fingers, and she licked and sucked until the taste was gone. She took a deep breath through her nose and readied her throat for another finger-fucking.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/7aapue/neighbor_sir_mf_fsub_ds
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