The Cheerleader (D/s, M/F, original)

I was walking through the university’s gymnasium—a nice shortcut between my office and the library—when I heard what sounded like moaning. It seemed to be coming from just beyond the girls’ locker room door. I pressed my palm against the swinging door, gently extending my fingers to push it open slightly. What I thought could be someone in pain I now recognized as the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. I slipped in.

I turned the initial corner to encounter the rows of slim lockers. If my memory was accurate, the cheer squad wrapped up practice recently. I walked slowly to the second row of lockers and saw her. She was sitting on the long, thin bench between the lockers, her back to me. But, I recognized the voice. It’s so strange to hear a voice you’re so accustomed to in another context—here, moaning, absorbed in pleasure. She was one of the more talkative students in my intro literature class. And here she was, still in her cheerleading uniform, her legs straddling the bench, spread wide so that she could touch herself, her head tilted forward and her long dark hair hanging in a loose pony tail.

A Trip to the Grocery Store (M/F, D/s, original)

We’re at the grocery store, doing our weekly shopping. I find myself feeling turned on as we weave through the aisles. You reach to grab something off the top shelf–standing on your tip-toes, given your short frame. As you struggle to reach, I notice the small of your back is exposed. You feel my hand grab your hip and feel me press against you. You can feel my hard cock pushing against your ass. You smile, knowing how much I want you. You’re eager to please me and know I likely won’t have the patience to wait until we return home. You arch your back and lightly grind against my cock.

You continue to tease me as we make our way through the aisles. Brushing up against my cock, bending over near me so I can get a view of your cleavage in that tight little blouse I picked out for you, walking in front of me and swaying your hips suggestively. When I’m not paying attention, you stoop down to “look at something” near the bottom shelf. While there, you begin to run your hands run up my thigh. I’m hard, and you can feel it. I know the look on my face is making you wet—you giggle and glance down.