“Stand back more, I want to see everything completely.”
Doing so I noticed that when Damien finally shucked off his underwear and stood up fully he was more or less fully hard, his dick wagging before him and right at the cam. It looked damn good―and I admit my eyes were drawn to the heavy looking thick thing more than any other part of the young man’s dark hairy body―and I had willed myself to keep my hands on the keyboard. It would not do me masturbating in front of Damien. I had a punishment to put him through, though God knew what it would be this time. He had clued me into something very basic and obvious in our last chat, and though I knew Damien had enjoyed it (he had IMed now after all) and I was damn glad we had managed this big hurtle of finally seeing one another, I was still finding my footing of what exactly to type, how to show and what to say to this young man caught-up in the dominant older woman on cam putting him through his paces.
“Punish me Claire, go ahead, I deserve it for asking to see more of you, I deserve it.”
“Yes,” I said, then leaned in to the screen and said―and God knows I do not know what made me think of this other than the fact that I was aching to get my hands on that popping thick thing of his―“swat your dick, hard.”
Damien did as I asked, quickly smacking down on his erection hard with a flick of the fingers of his right hand making a distinctive fleshy thud.
“Oh God, oh God,” he moaned shaking, obviously as aroused as I was…but stinging hopefully in a way I couldn’t imagine.
“Play with it,” I said, and leaned back to once again cup both tits in my hands.
“Ca…Ca…”
“Shh, shh, just do it; keep quiet,” I said, placing my heels firmly on the floor and spreading my legs.
Watching a man playing with his dick was always one of my favorite sexual diversions, not that my ex indulged me in it all that often. My fantasies before, during and certainly now post my marriage shot off in many a direction―certainly with a goodly amount of dom/sub ideas the past week―but always in there someplace I imagined my fantasy men handling their cocks to coax them bigger. It seemed Damien liked playing with himself for me and as he grew redder and harder I dipped one hand down below the cam line to snake my fingers up under the hammocked front of my skirt.
“More…” I trilled through my teeth as the man stood there, suffering in silence.
“Smack it again,” I managed my middle finger dead center of my gloppyness as I scooted forward to get it up, in and under my skirt.
Snit. Damien hit it and again a heated rush came over me, as much for that delicious sound as the fact that this man was obeying me in hurting himself.
I could get damn well carried away here I knew.
“Keep playing with it,” I whispered, poking at myself, pitched all the way up to the cam.
“Oh God Claire, Claire,” Damien cried out, his erection waxy red, his thick thighs set, his slight belly pulsating. He had his left hand cupped up high under his testicles and only his thumb (at the topside) and his two first fingers (squeezing into each other) on the underside of his cock. I fixed this in my memory; the specific way a man played with himself was as intimate a piece of information to learn as any other. I was rubbing just the inside of myself as I watched him, poised and ready to come, teasing myself, not allowing my orgasm to lea…
Then an idea shot forward in my mind.
“Stop,” I said, while sitting back.
“Take your hand away.”
Once again Damien obeyed, huffing and red faced as he dropped his hands.
“Wanna come?”
“Oh Claire,” he moaned.
I somehow managed my finger tip out from under my skirt, stood, then sat back down on my swivel desk chair, but not before pulling my skirt all the way up my legs. I scooted as far back in the chair as possible, positioning myself so I could fully see the image I was showing Damien and spread my thick and quivering thighs as far as I could.
“I want you pushing just the head of that delicious cock here, begging for me to let you in.”
I had my finger up on myself again as the man in the cam stood there transfixed, popping and hard, a tight smile crossing his handsome unlined dark face.
“Your punishment today is, you only get to watch, not lick, not fuck, not masturbate.”
“Claire…”
Damien’s crying was lost on me as I focused my eyes on that meaty thick dick mere inches away from me on the screen, but who knew how many miles and I speared myself and began to hump my two fingers.
“Claire, Claire, Claire,” the man moaned as I spread for him wider and he got an eyeful of my landing strip of brown hair with my fingers tickling in it. Before I lost it completely I looked up to Damien’s dancing wide blue eyes and whispered: “Call me mistress.”
“Oh God,” he let loose through his little boy moan, all but wagging that delicious big dick in my face. Damien was rolling his hips, trying for any purchase or relief. If I let him, I knew he’d jerk his cock to blast-off in seconds.
“Say it Damien,” I whispered, circling the tip of my middle fingers across my bulging clit, spreading my legs even more; all but laying back in my chair.
“Say it.”
I was so crazed poised there as much for my orgasm as for this man to surrender in this particular nasty way. I couldn’t truly reason why I wanted him to call me mistress, if indeed it would turn me on to hear him say it aloud, but right then it seemed like the perfect thing to push him to.
“Yes…Mistress,” Damien cried, fixing me with his most intense stare yet.
I pushed two fingers up into my drippyness and came…as Damien did not.
****
Not drinking the Kool-Aid of Facebook and not yet managing to ‘get out there’ (though my girlfriend June―the only other divorced lady of my group of five friends―had been prodding me out more and more this Spring to the local tavern) I knew what Damien and I were into was me “dipping my toe” in the water of modern socializing. And though I knew plenty of men and women of any age delved into chatting and regarded one-handed web affairs as the nadir in current romantic encounters, those two weeks with Damien taught me that not only had a new world been opened to me, that I could and seemed very much to be attracted and attractive to a man years my junior, but in the end tri-weekly camming sessions where I “dommed” Damien, looked at his erection bounce while I masturbated would not do it for me.
We had to meet; maybe it was the warming weather and flower smells in the air?
Damien indeed lived close as he had intimated when we swapped general locations our first time chatting. The very last thing I managed to whisper to him before I logged-off my cam, exhausted after coming and he literally braying that his balls ached was: “Next time, in person.”
The next time came, regular to what I was coming to learn was Damien’s chat schedule (at least with me) two days later. It was a Saturday, early evening and he found me, typed Hi and then, much to my surprise and thrill added: Want to meet tonight?
I could have coaxed open a cam link. I could have typed him my number to call me, but I simply typed back:
Stutter’s Park, 8. Upper parking lot, near the green.
Anyone who grew-up in my local tri-town village enclave or lived where Damien did not more than a half hour away to the east, knew about this huge park that cut through two towns. It would be teeming with suburbanites, young and old, this fruity smelling evening, so I couldn’t have picked a better spot.
Surely, the prudent thing to have done was to exchange cell numbers, but I didn’t want my young charge and I to have any more contact than was needed for the moment. I wanted Damien (and I guessed myself) to coddle a slight unease with the idea that either one of us might just not show in an hour. I was playing our first ever meet, building what I was coming to consider (and was masturbating over too much lately) my mistress status, by acting as I had all along with Damien; giving him exactly what was needed…and nothing more.
Surely, I might have i
nvited caution; really how well did I know this guy? But his submission to me spoke volumes of how safe a meeting we were coming to…or maybe I just wanted to believe I was safe. Let’s face it, I have done worse for less (though years ago) and these days, maybe age and circumstance had me managing risks more than I ever would have before.
And surely, and most importantly, I was certainly hornier than I had been in a very long time and as I left the house I called June, told her I was meeting a man at our local Starbucks and to call in at nine to make sure all was ok. Thrilled beyond belief that I had actually met a man on my own, June of course agreed, thankfully not pushing me for specifics on how’s, who’s, when’s and where’s.
When I steered my Accord into the opening of the crowded upper lot with its grass hillock parking space dividers I noticed a green Mazda hatchback in the first spot facing out. In the driver’s seat sat Damien, his blues intent on the cars coming in and slowing and widening when he caught sight of me. This all would never have worked had it not been still light out enough that we could spy one another immediately and then relax because of it. It’s one thing to exchange pictures, even get on cam, and to be sure we had yet to sit across from one another sniffing one another’s scent, but at least what we both saw and smiled at as I pulled in was seemingly mutually pleasing.
I parked right next to Damien, stepped out in my sneakers and jeans, hair in a loose pony, oversized sweatshirt and opened his unlocked passenger seat door; I wanted to present a look to this young man different than me in short skirts and heels. Sliding across his seats, I snuggled up close so he could get a nice long whiff of my perfume and feel my big body up close. Turning to me our lips locked, I parted my mouth as he is, but just as I felt his tongue, I retreated, smacked his thigh hard and said:
“Now we met.”
Sliding back out his car, I was barely able to stand on my feet with my knees knocking so hard. I guessed I could have made him call me mistress right then (God knows I did want to hear him say it), but for right then I needed to stand, take a breath and steel my nerve, though I did make sure to wiggle my wide round butt enough so the man couldn’t take his eyes from me in, what I hoped, was his complete surprise.
Starting my car I thought, my suburban mistress transformation had been slow going all along, and that was why it felt all the sweeter…and why I could just leave Damien with barely a kiss and a quick slap to his thigh and know he’d be logging on later this night to try and catch me on cam once again.
As to those how’s, who’s, when’s and where’s from here, only time would tell.
THE MYSTERY OF MAYA
“So, so nice,” Maya purred, inspecting my naked body as I tried to stand still before her.
Sweat beading my upper lip I could smell the sweet combination of my landlady’s perfume mixed with the scent of the many plants in this big living room. Other than stopping down to drop the rent through her mail slot, I had never been on the first floor Maya occupied and standing there then, after only two months living here was an amazing circumstance I was having a hard time getting my mind around.
“I hope you do not think I do this with all my tenants,” she confessed in her Russian-tinged speech, “it’s just that you are such a darling young man, Michael.”
I smiled at the compliment, feeling my hard cock popping even more. That my landlady could be so matter-of-fact about having me naked before her, she sitting pretty-as-you-please under me in a sexy yet subtle short cotton skirt and modest red heels, made the mystery of Maya even more intense, and made me more on edge for what might actually happen here tonight…and if I was ready for it. A good twenty years my senior, this little lady with the long fiery hair was the talk of the neighborhood, so much so that when I decided on off-campus housing there was no question in my mind what house I would try. I had jerked-off plenty to thoughts of the woman, fevered rushes of fantasy visiting me as I sat upstairs and imagined Maya doing whatever it was she did downstairs, watching countless men come and take her out. I knew she was actually a married lady, a mom to boot, but her husband and teen twin boys lived wherever it was she was from and didn’t seem to be planning on visiting anytime soon. How Maya had landed here, owning and renting out a room in a massive Tudor a stone’s throw from the college I attended, and how she simply went about entertaining whom she entertained and did what she did with them, I had no idea.
I was just thrilled to be getting so close to the mystery woman right then.
“So, so nice?” Maya repeated and lifted her right leg from the floor. I watched with clutched breath as she lifted her foot to my hard cock and gave me a quick tickle with the toe of her red shoe. I jumped nearly to the balls of my feet as she touched my reddening head.
“You like women’s shoes?” she purred, running her toe up the side of my suffering erection, then back down again.
“Maya,” I could only sigh, realizing at that moment that I did indeed like women’s shoes―the higher the heel the better, actually―but had never experienced this type of attention before from a woman or her shoes.
“See?” she prodded me, lifting her taut right leg even higher. Scooting forward to the edge of her chair, Maya managed to flash me the front of her red cotton panty as she lifted her leg even higher and touched the tip of her toe to my right nipple.
Again I rocked up on my heels and took a step closer to her.
“I think you like my shoes very much,” she said, scooting back up and lowering that damn toe to my cock again.
I ached for my landlady to at least hold her foot there so I could rub against her shoe enough to get some relief, but she was circling her foot, raising her leg up and down in front of me. The tickling felt great actually and I was getting to see lots of leg here…and a smidgen more of her covered crotch as well. I had to wonder how many men Maya had done this to. Was this a fetish she indulged in often?
Christ, this woman was an enigma!
“Michael. Michael,” she sighed, evidently aroused as I gulped and leaned into her.
I so wanted to touch the petite pretty lady, reach down and slip my hand between Maya’s legs and up under her skirt, spread open her suit jacket and nuzzle her breasts; do anything really beyond suffering through this teasing with her shoe on my purpling cock. But I knew I should take my time here. I needed to show Maya that I could pace myself despite my youth.
“I…Ah HA,” I suddenly squealed as the lady dipped the front of her toe down my tight balls.
Scooting slightly forward again, Maya placed the very tip of her toe up between my legs, lifting her leg as I spread mine so she could push up at that spot between the springy fleshly spot between my balls and my ass.
“How does that feel…Michael?” she asked, and when saying my name pushed up with extra emphasis.
I nearly came right then and there.
“Maya,” I growled, trying my best to keep from falling.
“That is the spot isn’t it?” she said, as I looked down her tanned leg and spied well under her skirt again; I thought I even spied a pinpoint circle of wetness dead center of her crotch. The lady smiled and spread her left leg just a little, so she was well open as she continued her pressure spearing me with her toe.
I gulped back a sigh and almost squatted.
“You do like my shoes,” Maya said, and to both my disappointment and relief she lowered her right leg and sat back up. But this time she didn’t move to pull down at the hem of her red skirt, nor even place her knees side by side.
Squeaking her heels across the wooden floor, she spread her right thigh as wide as she had her left. I looked down in amazement as Maya rolled her skirt up her rolled hips, popped her covered pussy up to me and caressed a hand down the front of what I now recognized was a thong. Red and black skirt, red hair, red thong, red heels and jacket, this older lady was a fiery vision I just had to have.
“It’s really not the shoe…” Maya said, as she repositioned to keep her pussy and the hand strumming her front, right in my li
ne of sight. I did think of taking my cock in my hand then, it was really hard not to, but I just kept my hands at my side waiting for further orders. “…but the woman in them, you know.”
I could stand it no longer, so I took a step toward Maya and…
“No, no Michael…” she softly protested, shooting her right leg up to place a halting bare foot on my thigh. “…you stay right where you are. Only I get to touch me…for now,” she added, sticking her middle finger and right thumb to the side of her thong to pull the cottony ‘V’ front to the side.
“Maya,” I huffed as she once again, flicked the shoe off her right foot and lifted her foot so her toes touched the head of my cock.
I didn’t dare move, for Maya’s balance as much for the fact that I feared she might very well stop all of this if I did. Spreading her thong even further off herself, my landlady began to moan and scoot, to get her fingers between her glistening folds.
If she’d just let me touch myself.
“You have come from a girl using her hand on you,” Maya said, not asking. She spread herself even more and dipped her middle finger just into the fold of what I could see was very meaty gloppy lips. I merely shook my head in reply and spread my legs even more as she kept those dastardly toes flicking the head of my swollen cock.
“Yes, yes,” I said, wanting to kneel, lick her, do anything to get closer to this wonderfully sexy little lady under me.
“I want you to come with my foot,” she said, and I gulped watching Maya scoot her little ass back while lifting her left leg.
With her knees bent in side-to-side V’s it seemed Maya got a new purchase into herself.
“Michael,” she growled, “Mi…Michael!”
Balancing fully on my body then, keeping me pushed away as much as spreading my legs wide, when the lady’s other foot came under my cock shoeless I realized that, yes, Maya had done this to other men.
“Yes...” I said.
The head of my cock was purpling with the curly-cues her toes were performing. There was the littlest stain of pre-cum on my purpling head as I clenched my ass and Maya strummed me with her ten pretty little toes (with red manicured nails, of course) and strummed herself. With her eyes on me, the lady below me shucked and moaned almost as loudly as I did.
Oh, Those Darn Dominant MILFs- the Goddesses of Suburbia Page 5