We’re sitting on a park bench, watching the stars come out. Just as I think to myself how lovely the view is, you muse whether or not we should have actually ended things and that you still have feelings – but you’re unsure of what to do about them. Everything suddenly feels like it’s happening in slow motion as I turn to you in disbelief.
Relationships are hard – open relationships just crank the difficulty level to 11. And after a summer of dabbling, you decided that it wasn’t for you or your wife. Dating more than one person only works if everyone is on board and that was no longer the case. In reality I’m torn – I want to do do the right thing at all times but catch myself fantasizing about tying you to a tree so I can come up with new and creative ways of making your knees buckle. It’s fine. I can justify it as long as those thoughts stay inside, unsaid. Just like I’ve been telling myself for the past year. But with creeping dread I realize that none of this matters, not all this time being Just Friends, not all the good intentions; the only thing that matters to me is the next few words out of your mouth. “What would happen if my circumstances had changed?”
I snort. I would play it cool, I decided long ago, if you ever said you wanted me again. You told me repeatedly to move on, so you must have managed to yourself – as much as that realization stung I had accepted it. This is a deviation from the plan and I’m thrown for a loop. By now, the blush creeping up my neck and colouring my cheeks is giving me away. I find the courage to speak. “Explain.” is all I can manage because any more and I know my voice will crack.
“If- if I was open to other relationships again, and everyone was on board…” you begin to trail off lamely but I cock my head to indicate that you’re not nearly done explaining yourself. You straighten, more sober now. “This is not how I pictured it going.”
Another snort from me, this time with slightly less derision. “How *did* you picture this conversation going?” I raise one eyebrow and sigh to cover my building frustration. Your eyes darken, downcast now. I spoke louder and quicker than I wanted to stop myself from saying anything else – now my cheeks are burning and my pulse races. This is what I wanted for so long, wasn’t it? To hear these words, from you? So why do I suddenly feel scared about opening that door again? I drum my fingers on the bench.
“I wasn’t sure what to say… we agreed to move on, but… I miss you.” The rawness in your voice makes my breath catch.
What a pair we make, I think as I slump back and take in our surroundings, letting the breath I’ve been holding out through my nose. The bench is nestled in a stand of spruce, far away enough from the trailhead parking lot that the stars are clearly visible despite the street lamps sparsely dotting the outline of the lot. Secluded but a known stargazing spot so not entirely out of the ordinary to be sitting here despite the odd hour. I realize that we will be able to see any hikers’ headlamps or flashlights long before they spot us so I impulsively decide to test the waters. I just hope you don’t get whiplash from this conversation’s 180. “If your circumstances had changed, I’d crawl into your lap and whisper all the things I miss doing to you directly into your ear.”
Now we are playing in earnest, and you freeze momentarily before unsticking and turning towards me. Choose your next words carefully, my darling.
You look me dead in the eye. “well, maybe you should do that.” My jaw drops open slightly. That was not what I was expecting, but nothing tonight has gone the way either of us thought it would. There has never been any middle ground with us. Every experience a collision. It was fun up until someone decided the game was over, and we had to pretend we were never even playing in the first place. So I am going to make you suffer as I have suffered, I decide as I stand to straddle you. That familiar look in your eye and your hands on my hips as I sink into your lap. Smirk while you think things are going your way but I’m going to make you work harder than this to earn me back.
I lean forward, breath tickling your ear and my cheek pressed hard against yours. “I miss sucking your cock.” You let loose a curse word under your breath at my boldness, but I am just warming up and the time for holding back is over. “I miss the way you’d fuck me harder when I called you Daddy” my lips brush your earlobe and your hands tighten on my hips, pushing me down onto you. I nearly moan but this will not do. I am the one deciding how tonight goes. I grab your wrists and push them against the bench back so you’re no longer able to touch me. Suffer. “I miss tying you up and having my way with you.” A low sound from you at that one, and I know I’ve hit my mark. “I miss your tongue and your fingers and your hard prick inside of me.” My turn to grind my hips, and to my everlasting delight, you are as hard as a rock in those tight little jeans of yours.
Your eyes are shut, brow furrowed. What is running through your head is anyone’s guess. I press on.
“I miss riding you until my thighs are burning.” By now, my grinding is as rhythmic as your breathing is ragged. I pause. “I wonder if I can make you come in your pants.” I lean harder into you, speeding up slightly and this time your moan is out loud. “Is that what *you* miss? Coming for me while you’re tied up?” I press your wrists harder into the cold wood. You could easily overpower me but don’t even try to fight back. Good. Every breath from you contains a small, helpless sound. I am basically riding you while fully clothed at this point, and suddenly realize how wet I am. “Tell me what it is that you want, and I’ll stop.”
A pause. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“Oh?” I lean forward to press my breasts against you and let my teeth graze your jawline. “More of this?” I slow down considerably but keep the pressure firm. I am going to draw this out until you are aching. You groan in frustration and I smile to myself, watching you clench and unclench your fists. It bears repeating; suffer for me. Show me you are willing to do as I wish. I roll my hips, dragging the v of my crotch back and forth against the bulge in your pants. I never was good at taking things slow, I think to myself and curl my face into your neck to drink in the scent. Clean laundry and warm skin. I want to devour you; to crush my mouth against yours and place your hands on my breasts and between my legs. I want it so badly but I cannot form the words so I settle for rocking back and forth in your lap.
Despite my torturously slow pace, your hips begin to buck and I know you are getting close. I stop altogether. You moan plaintively but my heart is made of stone. No pity to be found here. “You want me to keep riding you?” A nod. I move a fraction of an inch and you inhale sharply then curse when you realize that’s all you’re getting. “You’ve got to ask a little nicer than that,” I purr into your neck and risk darting my tongue out for the tiniest of licks.
The word sounded like a please, but was interrupted by a sharp rise in pitch ending in a gasp as my lips and tongue made contact with your skin. I giggle and tell you I didn’t quite hear you. Beg for it.
“More of this.” A swallow and your Adam’s apple bobs beneath my teeth as I nip at you again. “Please.”
I begin to roll my hips into you again, excruciatingly slowly but building speed.
“Just this? Or is there something else that you want?” I stop again and this time your moan is tinged at the edges with a growl. I remove myself further, rising up on my knees and breaking contact between us entirely. I lean forward, towering over you now despite the near foot in height difference when we are standing. You look up at me, eyes glazed with lust and I know how badly you want to come for me. I want that too. Should I give you that chance? Or should I torture you a little longer, I wonder to myself.
“More of you.” I’m shaken from my reverie. Your hands drop as I pull mine away to cup your face. Enough of this.
The first meeting of our lips is tentative and gentle. Even as your arms wrap around my waist to pull me closer, I am ready for you to bolt. But soon enough, your tongue meets mine and all thoughts beside how much I want you inside of me fly out the window. I run my hands through your hair, nails raking lightly against your scalp and eliciting a shudder. I turn your head to the side, leaning in once again to whisper into your ear. I can’t help but trail a line of kisses across the stubble and each of those adorable, occasional freckles on my way. “If you want me – then try and take me.” I rasp.
In a matter of seconds, you have me pinned on my back on the bench and are roughly shoving down my leggings. As our kisses deepen, we fumble urgently with each other’s clothing until you are freed. I make contact first, wrap my hand around the silky length of you and begin to stroke slowly. The low groan I tease out of you is all the encouragement I need. My grip tightens as I begin pumping my fist, delighted at how quickly the strength goes out of your limbs now that your entire focus is placed on one particular body part. I elbow the arm you’ve propped yourself up with and you land on top of me with a thud. With you still up on your knees (bum adorably in the air) there’s just enough room for me to keep playing with your cock as you rest your head in the crook of my neck. Slightly winded but still focused, I bend your arm behind your back so I can hold it there. Of your own accord, your other wrist finds its way into my grasp. I croon that you’re such a good boy and your prick pulses in my hand.
“I want to fuck you so badly” you pant, and I can feel myself ache at the thought of letting you take me on this bench. But not quite yet. I readjust my hips, dragging you up and down my slit so that you can feel how dripping wet I am just from teasing you.
I grip your wrists harder and steel my resolve. Turning my face towards you, I kiss you on the forehead and smile. “Not yet, we still have too much to talk about. In the meantime, you’re going to beg me to let you finish – and you had better say my name when you do.” I twist my hand as I pump your cock even harder, leaving you to sputter gibberish. I pause, my hand slick with precum. “And then” punctuating my instructions with strokes, I detail how you are to repay me for the last year’s dry spell. It mainly involves taking me back to the car and wrapping my thighs around your ears. Repeatedly.
It isn’t long until you’re shaking, breath coming in shallow pants. “Are you going to come for me?”
You nod, eyes squeezed shut, concentrating on every movement of my fist wrapped around you. I murmur encouragement as you plead with me, like I’m trying to coax your orgasm out of you gently even though I know it’s going to rip through the core of your being and leave you wobbly and breathless. I want to take it from you, now. “Come for me. Show me how much you’ve missed me.” I command, and tug at your wrists to remind you who is in control.
I feel hot cum splashing on my thighs and lips just before you burst forth with a roar that ends with what sounded like an attempt at my name. I grin, and keep stroking, now rubbing the tip of your cock across the mess you’ve made. The sharp hiss of breath of tells me I should stop soon, but instead I just slow down. I still need to make you suffer, if only a little. It isn’t until you whisper “please” one last time that I release you – arms and prick at the same time.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t the hug I was suddenly on the receiving end of, as you endlessly murmur thank yous into my ear. We stay that way for a while, with me petting your hair as your breathing slowly evens out. After what feels like forever, we slowly peel apart so I can dig for wipes in my purse. You notice the familiar packaging with its coconut motif and break into a grin. “Ah, that’s one more thing I missed.”
I pause in my struggle to pull my leggings up from where they’re bunched around my knees, distracted. “Oh?”
“The taste of your pussy after we’d been fucking all day and using those coconut wipes” you state bluntly, that adorable smirk finally returning. So brave now that you think you’re going to get your way. Brat.
“Well,” I straighten, pulling my shirt down and smoothing it to distract from how beet-red my face has just turned. I offer you an arm, and you stand to join me as we begin strolling back down the hill to the parking lot. “You’re going down on me the second we’re in the car, so you certainly won’t have to miss it for much longer.” Your smile widens even further as we walk off into the night.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/n1l8vo/working_things_out_mf_light_femdom_long