Mastering Him

by Meghan Boehners

He wasn't paying attention and didn't see me laying on the couch, legs propped over the arm, sprawled out with a gorgeous view of my red silk-lined pussy, waiting for his face. His tongue. That amazing mouth. My eyes memorized every vein, each curve of muscle, and those long eyelashes as I traveled down, noting the lack of a bulge between his legs.

  I'd change that soon.

  His back was cobra-like, tapering over ribs of steel to a narrow waist. His ass was as muscled as ever, chiseled, almost, by Michaelangelo himself. Dimpled cheeks couldn't be hidden even my worn denim, which he wore under a Santa coat. When he turned, his eyes were as merry as Old Saint Nick's.

  And then they turned dark with desire as we locked gazes and I licked my lips, then turned my tongue toward the peppermint candy cane in my hand. I knew the sight of my blonde curls, whore-red lipstick, tongue-fucking a candy cane while wearing a red silk teddy with no panties would, in fact –

  Yep. Now he had a bulge.

  A straining cock I needed to unwrap and thank him for.

  Profusely.

  “Well, have I been a good boy or what?” he crooned, that lopsided grin making the skin around his eyes wrinkle with love and passion that I knew was only for me.

  “You'd better watch out!” I teased, licking a trail down the side of the candy cane, then traveling back up with my tongue, finally deep throating it.

  He groaned.

  “You'd better not cry! Better not pout...” I turned over and stuck my ass in the air, looked at him over my shoulder.

  He was across the room in seconds, hands hungrily grabbing my ass and breasts, claiming me. A hot mouth lined by white beard took mine; I had a flash of Mike in 30 years and hoped we'd be as aroused and insatiable then as we were now. I knew we would be. His hot tongue plunged into my mouth and roamed freely, touching and licking and probing and stroking, reminding me along with his powerful embrace that he was, in fact, all man – and all mine.

  But after all, Santa had been a bit naughty this year, as I said...

  Breathless, I pulled back and put my hands on his chest, gently separating us. He took one hand and, impish grin spread across his face, put my hand on his cock. The zipper of his jeans was about to explode, and the metal was warm to the touch. Ah, to have him in me! But not quite yet.

  I leaned in and licked the edge of his ear slowly until he shuddered and moaned. “Santa, baby,” I whispered, blowing hot air over the wet skin, “tonight I get to hurry up your chimney.”

  He pulled back and cocked one eyebrow. “Ho, ho ho!” he chuckled, eyes pleading a silent prayer. “Really?”

  “Really,” I whispered, my hand stroking his cock until he batted it away, then unzipped and sprung his poor, aching member free.

  “Now that is some North Pole you've got there, Santa!” I exclaimed.

  “Baby, it's cold outside. Let me sink my North Pole into your nice, warm...” And then his mouth was on my breast, pushing me back down into the thick pillows on the couch, roaming down my ribcage and finally to my aching clit.

  Crotchless panties really are the second best gift ever.

  Mike's tongue, though, was the best. And right now, it was playing me into a frenzy. His Santa beard tickled my vulva while his hands caressed my ass, lifting my hips up and grinding my wet pussy into his face, where lips and tongue played me and used his Santa magic to give me a slow build to orgasm. Normally, I wouldn't let this happen, wanting instead to come with him in me, but tonight was different. A huge wave of climax hit me like a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer and up, up, up off the couch I rose screaming climax my ascent, with Santa's face deep in my crotch as I rode the waves of desire like Santa's sleigh riding around the world, fueled by magic and, well..Mike's tongue.

  He came up for air and grinned, still wearing the red and white Santa hat. I tugged it off and ran my hands through his sandy blonde hair. Cerulean blue eyes were darkened by lust.

  “And now, Santa,” I said, reaching under a couch cushion, “I have a very, very special candy cane just for you.” I climbed up on my knees and began to attach the straps around my waist.

  Mike's eyes grew wide with a look of fear and arousal. Arousal was slightly stronger than fear, though the two seemed to battle each other.

  And then I leaned toward him in full glory, wearing a strap-on with a 12' candy-cane decorated dildo attached.

  “Santa, do you like my North Pole? I heard you live right – on – top – of it. And you like it,” I said breathlessly.

  “I...uh...” Mike was speechless, just sitting there on the couch, staring at the candy-cane -colored dildo hanging from my crotch. I hopped and it bobbed, making him laugh.

  “Ho, ho, ho indeed, Santa. It's time to make your Christmas wish come true!” I pulled him toward me and slid his pants off, then took off his Santa coat. He stripped off the white t-shirt underneath and stood before me, naked and ripped, all hard muscle and scars from his year in Iraq.

  He was all man.

  And now I'd make him my bitch.

  We'd been down this road before, so I knew I needed to lube him up and get him nice and ready. Like Santa's little helpers, it takes a village to make a Christmas wish come true, and my friend Sandy had helped me get some great anal lube for the job. Mike watched me keenly, shocked that I'd go for this again, and bemused. He was a bit shy and never asked for a nice pegging, but hopefully tonight would change that. Truth be told I loved having the power, enjoyed giving him a “p-spot” orgasm that would make him half shoot across the room, and most adored the intimacy that came from this.

  But right now, he was a naked man and I had just come from his mouth. It was time to get our kink on.

  “On all fours, Santa!” I chimed in, waving toward the couch. He laughed and climbed on, muscled ass turned toward me. I leaned over his backside and caressed those glorious shoulders, shoulders that once carried me out of a burning building just three years before, a catastrophe I now appreciated because it had, in the end, brought me to Mike.

  And now he would get it.

  In the end.

  I lubed my hand and stroked the dildo like it was my own dick, with long, slow strokes I swear I could almost feel in my crotch. A large squirt of lube over Mikes open asshole elicited a loud groan from him, and my fingers played with the muscles at the edge of his ass. I took the end of the candy-cane dildo and gently nudged; Mikes hand wandered to his own nipple and pinched, bringing a series of heavy breaths and moans from him. Gently, gently, I eased the head of the shaft into him, going slow and steady.

  “Julia,” he growled, and I slowed.

  “Does it hurt?” God, I was so turned on. If I moved just the right way I was going to come again, simply from the power and the lust. Mike didn't have to touch me, I didn't have to flick my clit. The sight of him and the feeling of the strap-on were enough.

  “No.” Husky tones colored his words. “Keep going.”

  So I did, easing in until I felt his entire body tense, saw his cock bob up sharply, and I knew I'd hit his prostate. He gritted his teeth and bent back slightly in ecstasy as I slid in, then slowly out, fucking his ass the way he wanted it, feeling thick juices building up in my pussy walls and vulva, my clit screaming for release again.

  A beastly sound began in him, like a big cat ready to attack its prey. But he was my prey now, and I was fucking him beautifully with my candy-cane dildo, hips grooved and grinding, stroking his prostate and his ass until I reached around, grabbed his rigid cock, and began pumping him. He screamed and shuddered and clawed the back of the couch, all animal and primal, any pretense of decency gone as he devolved into the orgasm, the climax, the coming and the going.

  I dropped his cock and stroked my clit once, twice, three – and I was gone, too, an animal with him, our limbic nervous systems and rat brains now nothing but nerve endings and pleasure, seeking to squeeze the last drop as we came in waves and hitches, moans and twitches, all at the end of Santa's magic.

  Mike slumped against the back of the couch a
nd I eased the dildo from his, careful to be mindful of his exhaustion and glow. He grinned and pulled me into his lap and kissed me tenderly.

  “So,” he whispered, “I have this idea for Easter. That bunny has these vibrating eggs, and...”

  Merry Christmas, Mike. What a gift you truly are.

  THE END

  Pegging Mr. Chandler

  When I knocked on the door I realized I'd been thinking about Misty’s dad, Dane, all day. I was coming to babysit Misty’s little sister since Misty went off to college; I took a year off to stay home, work, take a few courses at the local community college, and think about what I want to do with my life. Dane had been the focus of crazy, raunchy dreams since I was fourteen and he was always the “dad I'd like to fuck” out of all of my friend’s dads.

  What used to be a dream, though, could not be a reality. I just turned 19 and was beyond legal.

  Now Dane is divorced, single and dating again. I can’t stop thinking about those dreams and getting the chance to see him again. Tonight was my chance, and I was wondering if he had changed much or would remember me, and if he would still view me as Misty’s little friend instead of the woman I have become.

  The door opened and a chill went down my spine.

  Dane was all man, exactly as I'd remembered, but even more chiseled and sophisticated. It had only been a year since I had seen Dane, and my. oh my – how had he gotten even more appealing in such a short period of time? And was it possible for my clit to swell that much so quickly?

  He smiled sideways at me and invited me in. “Hi, Mr. Chandler.” I called him Dane in my mind, but always used “Mr. Chandler” when we were in person – it had been that way since Misty and I met in kindergarten.

  With lust-filled eyes I could spot from 20 yards away on any college campus, but with the maturity and skill of a good 20 years over those college boys, Dane gave me a once-over that made me practically gush.

  “Mary! What's this 'Mr. Chandler' nonsense.” Those taut, strong arms reached forward and pressed against my shoulder blades, bringing me in for a hug. I couldn't help myself – I pressed my hips into his and felt his cock stir, swelling as my own clit throbbed. His arms tensed, then softened as my breasts pushed against his pecs. He leaned into my shoulder and inhaled deeply as I did the same, smelling pine and musk and the unmistakable scent of pure man.

  “Call me Dane,” he whispered in my ear, the hiss nearly pushing me over the edge, my heart pounding in my chest as the air felt cold and harsh, our bodies parting. I exhaled deeply and struggled for control.

  When I walked in the kitchen I looked in the mirror on the wall over the entryway table and saw him check out my ass. Not even trying to hide it.

  Now this could turn out to be a very fun evening.

  “Wow, you have really blossomed into a beautiful woman.”

  “Thank you. I am glad you noticed,” I replied. He laughed teasingly as we walked into the living room.

  I excused myself to the restroom as I need to catch my breath and dry my panties. Well, not literally, but it felt like they were full of puddles of my own pussy juices. I half expected to see them stuck to my inner thighs, but when I checked, they were just a bit damp.

  I stared into the bathroom mirror, thinking about how much I have changed. No more braces, no more pimples and no more little Miss Queen Virginity. I gave that up last year and have been a bit sex-crazed since then. Thank goodness my awkward adolescent phase is over and all that I see in the mirror now is my long blonde hair, green eyes, porcelain skin and I have finally filled out into a D cup that gains a lot of attention from all of the men I see.

  Eye contact is rare when I meet a man; it's like that old Saturday Night Live skit with Kirstie Alley, where the women evolve to have eyes on their chests because men have looked them in the breasts for so long. I get it, though; if I were into girls I'd stare at their breasts, too. Instead, I stare at men's pecs, packages, and asses. I like what I see and I figure hey – if life is going to give me a buffet of horny college boys, then I am going to eat my fill.

  Literally.

  But tonight I'm thinking I'm ready for a more aged, seasoned taste.

  When I came out of the bathroom I asked “So, Mr. Chandler – ”

  “Dane!” he chided.

  “Uh, Dane, you got a hot date tonight?”

  He checked the time on his phone and muttered, “I'm meeting some work buddies for a bachelor party, and I don’t know how late I will be.”

  “Sounds like a wild night. I have a friend back at school who strips for money. She does very well.”

  Dane leered at me and winked conspiratorially. “And does your 'friend' also babysit on the side?” Then he laughed and looked me up and down again.

  It took me a minute to get what he meant. “Oh, no! It's not me! I swear I'm not a stripper.” My face went hot at the thought of being up on a stage, straddling a pole. “I just mean I know...er, a friend of mine really...oh, I was just making small talk!” I turned away and buried my face in my hands. What the fuck are you thinking, Mary? You always open your mouth and ruin everything.

  His hands clasped my shoulders and he tipped my chin up. “I believe you, Mary,” he said softly. “Don't be embarrassed.” Then he stepped back and put his hands on his hips, exhaling slowly.

  “But damn, what a waste if you're not your 'friend'.” The words sounded like a promise, but instead of stepping toward me he walked to the door, shaking his head and muttering to himself. I thought I heard the words “not jail bait any more” but I could have been imagining that.

  As he was leaving I checked out his ass. All I could think about while he was gone was that he would be watching strippers all night – and that made me so hot just picturing him getting a lap dance. I wanted him all to myself, wearing a skimpy see-through black teddy, bumping and grinding on the pole in front of him, then climbing on top of him and giving him the best lap dance with a happy ending for us both.

  Then I had a great idea.

  He'd come home all hot, excited and unfulfilled from watching dancers all night – the perfect opportunity for me to make my move. I had to plan it perfectly.

  I have been dreaming about this opportunity for so long, but what would Misty think if she found out I seduced her dad? My friendship with Misty was really important to me and I would not do anything to jeopardize the closeness we share. We even taught each other how to kiss – and her lips were so soft whenever we practiced together.

  She was always there for me when I had problems and I would not ruin our connection for anything. But I can’t get Dane out of my mind. I have wanted him for so long it is killing me to hold back now when I can finally take him. I guess what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I won’t tell and I am certain he will keep our little secret.

  What secret, Mary? You haven't fucked him yet.

  But I will.

  I had to think fast to get everything ready for my seduction. The babysitter going for the dad – what a cliché.

  But clichés start from a truth, right?

  And I was going to get the deep truth on Dane.

  I got all moist again just thinking about what I wanted to do to him. My dreams had been so vivid, and I remember every moment of sweet pleasure with him that I imagined I wanted so many times. I only hoped the real thing would be that good, or better. I could only hope he wants me as much as I want him and we can do all of the things I have imagined over the years of touching myself and thinking about him.

  First, I took care of Misty’s sister Brittany. I fed her dinner, played a few games with her and put her to bed with a story. I felt so dirty thinking about Dane and his cock all night, though – what a bad babysitter! My mind was going crazy imagining us fucking on the kitchen counter, on the living room couch, and on the table in front of his big screen TV. Maybe we could even plug in a video feed and watch ourselves in action, his big cock pumping into my wet, pink pussy in 46” high definition!

  With Brittany i
n bed, I picked up the house, dimmed the lights and lit whatever candles I could find. I went to his bathroom upstairs and found one of his work shirts and a tie. I took off all my clothes and put the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned. I tied the tie around my neck and left my heels and red g-string panties on. I found some fruit and cut it up so we could share it later. Imagining Dane eating the fruit off my body and sharing the fruit while we kiss, our tongues interplaying and exploring each other, was getting me so excited I wanted him home right now. I had to calm down and wait for him, and I had no idea when he would be back. All I could do is wait.

  I knew Dane was going to enter through the garage door into the kitchen so I waited there, wearing almost nothing, sitting on the butcher block spread-eagle and wondering if he would be up for everything I was going to do to him. I could not stop wondering what he would do to me. Things I have heard of and never tried, or maybe things I have never even imagined. I was up for anything with him. I wanted to be his student and am willing to learn anything he wants to teach me.

  I waited for the sound of the garage door opening and was getting really excited, a flush of heat running through me and pooling in my pussy lips, which were not eager for his throbbing dick. Any dick, for that matter – hell, the kitchen rolling pin collection was starting to look good!

  And then I waited. And waited. And...waited. 11 p.m, then midnight, and still no Dane.

  This was no good, but I couldn't get rid of the need to rub one off now. Tipped over the edge, but not from a nice clit licking, now I realized I needed to scratch this itch. Dane wouldn't be home for a long time.

  His bedroom? Every single guy keeps porn in his bedside table. Even with Internet porn freely available, sometimes you just gotta have that dirty magazine in your hand. I quietly tiptoed into his room and checked the nightstand.

  Oh, my.

  This wasn't a magazine.

  But it sure was hot.

  A huge 14” dildo on a codpiece, with straps. What the fuck? I've seen my share of dildoes, but this wasn't a dildo. I didn't know what it was, but it was hot. I wanted it in me. And Dane could be gone for hours.