What's He Like?

He's attractive, good looking, smart and funny. He is charming and one of those guys who flirts with the world. Sometimes I think he is too charming. That it all comes too easily. Women adore him. Yeah one of those guys; you hate him already don't you?

He's not a guy I just met. He's actually the man who first explained to me that guys would like a girl who was submissive; who wanted to do what they said and please them with it.

He explained that that there were dominants and submissives; that he was one and I was the other. I guess I knew most of that before he said it. I know that I knew what BDSM was, and that I liked reading it. I know I knew I liked pleasing men. It had just never occurred to me before that moment that I was a submissive.

And then... it seemed complicated. Giving up power. Why would I give it, and what would I get in return? Sometimes it still seems complicated? Is it fair? Do I care about fair? Shouldn't fair be part of the equation somehow?

And then other times it seems irrelevant and I just want to please. Did I mention he's charming?

The Dance

Thinking of Christmas presents... It would have been lovely if we had... if we had what? Done it?

"It." I don't even know what the hell "It" would be.

There's this dance of flirtation and possibility between he and I. It's exciting. It's half the fun of things. Innuendo and suggestion. Teasing and suggestion.

Will we? Won't we? What would we do? Where would we do it? Do we really want to do it?

Will doing more spoil the delight of the dance?

We went our separate ways with nothing more than some flirtation, some conversation and a little squeeze. It was nice. Tempting. The dance.

Destiny

Yesterday we ran into each other twice. Have we ever before? Not really.

I think it was completely coincidental. And surprising. And delightful.

We were emailing and established that we were in the same place. He told me where to go, and I did... wanting to say "yes Sir". Bossy man. I like that.

We sat in my car and talked.

I think he knew I would have been amenable to more.

It would have been inconvenient. It wasn't the way I had planned that last rush up to the holiday. It wasn't planned at all, and maybe that was the delight of it. It would have derailed my plans, and presumably his too.

But I wanted it. And I was struck by him being there, the serendipity of it. I wanted him, had been thinking of him, emailing him. And there he was. Here he was. Yum.

And as always, there was nowhere to go. Our recurring issue, place. A car in a busy parking lot is limiting. And yet... I wanted it. Did he?

We chatted for a bit, flirted a bit, he slid his hand into my top, squeezed my nipples. To show that he could? Maybe.

And then we split. Me to finish my errands, him probably doing the same.

I made a couple of stops, ticking things off my last minute list. And then, weirdly, I ran into him again at a gas station.

This time the encounter was shorter. He asked if I was following him. I said not today. He laughed.

There was a moment of connection. Of thinking. It seemed like fate was pushing us to be together. To run off and do the dirty things we've been contemplating? Maybe.

So there was that moment of connection. Consideration. Then we went our separate ways again.

I wonder if he saw it the same way?

Parking

He sent me a message, asking me if I wanted to meet him.  Something had come up that he wanted to discuss with me.

We are on the edge, between friends and intimate friends. We play with words, and talk about playing with bodies.

We flirt with possibilities.

He disguised it a little. Did I want to meet at the bookstore? There was a book he knew I wanted. Which bookstore and when?

I left work a little early, driving to meet him. We had arranged to meet in the parking lot. Somewhere fairly dark.

I wasn't sure what he wanted. Umm, that's not entirely true. I wasn't sure of the exact specifics of what he wanted. I thought he wanted to neck, to touch, maybe to go further. I wished I was wearing something prettier, sexier.

I hoped he wanted to spank me. Kind of complicated for a session in a car, or in a parking lot or a garage. I knew it was wishful thinking, but we've talked about it a lot.

I thought there was probably either a blow job or a hand job in what he wanted. I thought about whether it would be in the car or outside. I thought that outside would be cold and would wreck my tights, kneeling. But, if I'm honest, I didn't mind. I wanted it.

I met him, he was there first. Not a completely secluded area, but somewhere no one would bother us, they probably wouldn't see us. He told me to get in his car.

We talked briefly, kissed briefly. He touched a little, encouraged me when I touched him. He pushed his seat back as far as it would go. And then, was he impatient with how slowly I go, or just wanting to encourage or instruct me, he undid his pants, pulled his cock though the slit of his boxers and encouraged me to touch, and then ... did he guide my head to his lap or did I go there myself? I don't remember that detail.

I do remember that he wasn't completely hard when I started, but that he got that way pretty fast. I sucked, licked, sucked. He moaned, started to talk, telling me it was lovely, that I was lovely, and deviant and hot and sweet, and oh it was good. He had his hands all over me, in my hair, my back, my ass, my arms. Mostly holding my head, guiding, showing me what he wanted, and then he stopped. Did he think it was too much?

My hair was all over the place, in my way, I stopped and joked that I needed a pony tail, and he laughed, kind of a "fuck don't stop now," kind of laugh, and said that he'd hold if for me, which he did, gathering my hair and pushing me back down onto his cock. And then he held my head, and pumped me up and down and talked dirty and lovey and increasingly incoherently til he came in my mouth.

I felt... hmmm...I think I felt victorious. Like I had done things exactly right. Like I had pleased and enticed and been perfect. I was happy. I had done what he wanted, the way he wanted it. No, I didn't feel like he had taken advantage. I'm pretty sure he knew I wanted this.

I swallowed, gulped, swallowed again. Softened what I was doing, cleaned him. I don't know if he liked that part or not, he didn't say. Maybe it was too much, maybe just right, maybe not enough. I guess I'll find out if it happens again, which seems likely.

I am sure I came up smiling. I kissed him, still smiling. Which he may not have been thrilled by, as I realized later.

And then we chatted for a while, he asked if I knew what would happen when he asked me to meet him, whether I knew it was to suck his cock. I said yes. I did know it. I didn't mention the spanking hope. He knows I want it. It will come.

We kissed a bit more, he touched my tits, I wanted more. Damn, I'm easy sometimes. Or is it needy? Or is there a difference?

We discussed whether I should blog what I'm doing with him.

He offered me mints, which I suspect meant that he thought my breath smelled of blow job. I guess that was nice of him, right? Not wanting me to get caught with any suspicious evidence.

I never did go to the bookstore, but guess what? He bought me the book that he knew I wanted. He had arrived early, scouted things out, found the best place, bought me the book. I love that he bought me the book.

And then we went our separate ways. I wonder if we'll do it again?

The Beginning

Where to start?

I think right here in the middle of the story.

There's a man and he seems to be my new Dominant. He says he is. And I want him to be. He refers to himself as my Dom.

I'm very attracted to him.

He's smart and funny, Dom and desirable. and we are both in other relationships. We're going excruciatingly slowly, for a million reasons and I am so into him.And... do I sound surprised? He seems to be into me.

One night we were necking and I put his hand on my breast, encouraging him. He started caressing me, pinching my nipples and I couldn't get enough of it. He was hurting me just a little, just enough, and I was crazy for it, so damn turned on.  It was a month ago and I still remember the feeling.

He touches my tits and I wet for him. It's crazy, I find myself pushing my tits into his hands, I put his hands on me. It's not very subtle. Touch me, touch me. Do me. Please.

I fantasize about him.

I guess that's part of the Dom package?