A fantasy about domination, public nudity and sex, asses, love, and other cool fun stuff

I arrived three minutes late to my mistress’ house. I knew she would be displeased. I had stripped at my apartment as she had ordered me to, then walked out to the curb and got in the car empty-handed. I drove to her upscale neighborhood, in the older part of town, with the top down on her cherry red 1967 T-Bird convertible, nude except for my studded black leather collar, in broad daylight.

Not wanting to get arrested, I chose to drive on the back streets where there was less traffic, fewer pedestrians and thankfully, no police. Along the way I did get spotted by at least a dozen people, mostly women, some pushing baby strollers, and a couple joggers. It was a beautiful summer morning, already hot but not unpleasant yet. One older lady hesitated before she crossed the quiet street in front of me, deliberately slowing her pace once she noticed my condition. She put one hand to her chest, squinted, then turned and walked alongside the open car to get a closer look. This turned me on like nothing else, so I stayed idling there as long as I could, stretching out my muscular body so she had a full frontal view. My semi-hard cock inflated under the bright sun and the woman’s stare, its head leaking pre-cum into the dark pit of my navel just below it. I wanted to touch my sex and hold it out from my tan shaven body, giving the lady an even clearer look, and me a much needed release. But I could still hear my mistress’ words in my mind. Somehow she always could tell when I disobeyed, so I reluctantly kept my shaking hands on the steering wheel until I noticed a car approaching from behind mine, smiled at my speechless audience, and slowly drove away. I could see her waving at me in my rear-view mirror as I turned the corner. Not a full block away I noticed a lean young man running in nothing but shoes and a tiny pair of shorts, the same direction as I was heading. I slowed a bit as the gleaming car came abreast of him, and when he noticed me, he smiled, stared and increased his pace. Gradually I accelerated until he could no longer keep up with the car, but before I pulled away I made sure he got as good a view as the lady before him. I really wanted to stop and flirt with him, but I noticed the time.

So here I sit, trying to catch my breath and slow my racing heart, feeling the hot sun on my trembling sweaty body, in her driveway. Checking first to see that there is nobody about in the yards next to or across from her home, and no cars or pedestrians on the street, I quickly walk to the front door and ring the bell, acutely aware of my nudity and my raging erection. While her expansive back yard is secluded behind an iron fence and tall hedges, my mistress’ front yard is rather small and quite visible from the street and the adjacent homes. I hear the intercom crackle to life, her cold voice asking what time it is.

“It’s 10:04, Madame,” I nervously answer.

“You kept me waiting four minutes then. I will keep you waiting the same duration”—

“But,” I interrupt…

“No buts!” she hisses into the microphone, “except for that bubble-butt of yours, it will be nice and red when I am done paddling it. Your outburst has just doubled the time you will wait on my front step!”

“Oh thank you, Madame. You are so fair and wise, I will wait here for you all day if I must!” I practically gush, quickly remembering my position in relation to hers.

“That’s more like it, slut!” she purrs, “Now stand up straight and tall, so anyone passing by can see that you are my slave.”

I stand as ordered on her shady entry, but two minutes later the sun has moved just enough that a bright beam shines down on me like a floodlight, while most of the yard is still shaded by the huge old maples. Hearing a car pull into the driveway across the street, I shift nervously, wanting to conceal myself as much as the shade will allow, finding instead that the whole step is illuminated by the blazing sun.

“Don’t you dare move,” she commands from somewhere inside. I sense that she can see me, so I stand taller and point my erect member toward the ornate mahogany entry.

An older female voice from across the street sharply inquires, “What ARE you doing there, young man?!”

I hear my mistress calmly on the speaker, “Did you say something?”

“No, Madame. It seems to be your neighbor across the way.”

“Well don’t be rude to her, her name is Mrs. Griffith. Turn around and say something nice to her!”

Pivoting to face the well-dressed lady, I greet her cheerfully,” I am waiting for my mistress to let me in so I can serve her, Mrs. Griffith. You look lovely this fine morning… may I be of assistance to you?”

“I think not!” the matron huffs, wiping her glasses with a silk scarf before replacing them on her nose. Then as an afterthought, “Do you always go around like that in public, in broad daylight?”

“That seems to be what my mistress pleases lately, and I must admit I enjoy it gaziantep escort immensely!”

“Well, on second thought, get your butt over here and take these groceries inside!”

I hesitate until I hear my mistress’ stern voice on the intercom, ordering me to get moving.

My heart pounds in my ears as I stride across the street, totally nude. In my periphery I catch sight of landscapers and painters working on stately homes a few houses down the block but, hoping they will not notice me, I look straight ahead at Mrs. Griffith. Her gaze travels from my grinning, blushing face down to my bouncing erect cock, where it lingers before returning to my eyes. A wistful look passes like a small cloud, replaced by a bright smile topped by a pair of twinkling, mischievous grey eyes.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet?”

“Oh, my name isn’t important, ma’am. I am just a submissive slut put here to serve my mistress. You know her, I assume?”

“Of course I do. We have been neighbors for over thirty years, and our husbands were just like brothers.” The cloud passes over her face again as she sniffles and looks away.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Griffith,” I offer sincerely.

“No, I’m sorry for getting so damn emotional myself, it’s been over ten years now since he died, and ten years before that since we…,” she blushes and coughs nervously.

“Oh my gosh!” my eyes and mouth open wide, unable to imagine twenty hours without sex, let alone twenty years, “Surely you’ve had some romance since then, I mean you look so young and healthy, I bet you’ll be enjoying yourself for at least another twenty!” The closer I look at her, the more I am impressed with her well-preserved body, faintly perceptible under her modest dress.

Sensing my gaze she explains,”I had a church board meeting earlier, can’t wait to get these nylons off and slip into something more comfortable…”

“We’d better get these groceries inside then,” I volunteer.

“We? No, that’s YOUR job,” she laughs as the trunk of her BMW pops open.

I bend over to see what’s in there, and feel a soft warm hand behind my knee. I freeze as it grazes the back of my thigh, relishing the feather-soft touch as it nears my most sensitive areas. I spread my legs and bend over even farther, unable to silence the moan coming from deep within my gut. Once her palm arrives at my perineum her fingers reach through to fondle my dangling balls. Meanwhile her thumb wriggles into my butt-crack, stopping at the entrance to my anus. I stifle a squeal by inhaling sharply and holding my breath, but my ass betrays my animal desire. My cheeks squeeze the welcome invader in deeper, while my sphincter opens like a flower waiting to be pollinated.

“My, you really ARE a slut, aren’t you?” Mrs. Griffith chides. “Has Elizabeth taken care of this hungry hole for you yet?”

“No, ma’am,” I groan through clenched teeth,” I have begged her to, but so far she has only spanked, paddled and whipped my butt!”

“Well I’m sure you deserved every bit of it, you naughty man. Do you like getting punished so?” Her thumb is delving into my well-oiled ass now.

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Griffith, I do, but…” suddenly unsure how much I should confide in this woman I have just met, I stop.

“But what? Do you want more? Do you LONG to be FILLED with a HOT, THICK SLAB of MEAT?” Her mouth is right next to my ear now, making her whispers sound like shouts, and with each word her thumb drives as deep as it can reach in my bowels.

“God, yes! I love it, I need it!” I cry out shamelessly, my hips bucking back with each thrust, trying to draw her digit in even deeper. Before my eyes I spot a cucumber in one of the shopping bags, and when I reach out to touch it, my hand brushes against hers. We lift it out together, admiring its perfect shape and size. About seven inches long, two inches in diameter, curved slightly, shiny dark green and covered with little bumps.

“Is this what you want, slut?” the older lady teases.

“Please!” I sob, my entire body quivering in anticipation.

“On one condition,” she says, raising her thin dark eyebrows.

“Anything!” I promise.

“You keep this in your ass until I say it can come out. Do you agree?” She must have read my mind; this is one of my favorite fantasies come true.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Griffith, I understand”

“Okay then, you better suck on it first, so it will slide in easier.” I didn’t think it was necessary, but I open my mouth wide, letting her force the thick vegetable past my tonsils and into my throat, swallowing three-quarters of it. When it re-emerges, it is dripping with my saliva, so she is able to push it quickly up my ass-hole. My anal ring contracts immediately, hiding the green invader from sight, but I can feel it in my colon, and it massages my prostate deliciously with every heartbeat, with every breath.

“Remember our deal,” she demands, before giving each of my quivering cheeks a swift swat, then turns toward the front door.”Now get those babelan.net bags in here, on the double!”

I pick up two heavy sacks, stand up straight, and hesitate momentarily to adjust to the feeling of my butt being stuffed full, before following her inside. I pad across the cool slate in the foyer to her kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter where she is pointing. I hurry back outside, delighting in the cool cucumber, shivering occasionally as it squirms around inside me with each step. I discover that if I walk on my tip-toes it helps hold it in, also heightening the sensation, making me feel as if I am really getting fucked. As I walk back inside with another armload of groceries, I spot my reflection in the picture window, observing how my hips sway sexily, almost femininely. I drop the bags gently beside the others and, before I return outside I pause to stroke my raging cock, then reach back to squeeze my cheeks and feel to be sure the “green giant” is staying in place. It is, so I wiggle my thighs extra slutty-like as I strut back to the car for the last load of purchases. Closing the car trunk and front door behind me, I return to Mrs. Griffith’s kitchen, deposit the bags on the counter, then look around for something else I can do. I pull the perishables out of the bags, placing them in the refrigerator and the freezer, finishing just as my new acquaintance comes back in the room. Now clad in a white tank top, bright blue satin mini-shorts, and high-heeled sandals, it is apparent just how well preserved she is. Without her “granny glasses” she looks more youthful, even with faint wrinkles around her eyes and neck. My eyes can’t help but linger over her freckled tan skin, delighting in her feminine curves. Beyond “MILF” by a few years, but I would still LOVE to fuck this silver-haired beauty, maybe more like a “GILF”? Her eyes capture my gaze, and I sense a hunger inside her that almost matches my own. Our reverie is broken by the shrill ring of her phone, which she picks up immediately.

“Oh, hi Elizabeth! I was just going to call you in a few minutes.

“Yes, he’s still here. Do you want to talk to him? Uhh, I DO have a few more things around here that I could use him for, if you can make it without him for just a little while… Oh? Well, I suppose I could do that, if you think it’s… Okay, sure! Yes, I’ll call you as soon as I am finished with him, and if he misbehaves at all, I will tell you… Alright, thanks Elizabeth. Bye!”

“Hmmm!” Mrs. Griffith muses as she turns back to me, “Elizabeth seems to think that I am too much of a soft touch. She says I need to treat you like the slutty slave that you are, keep your ass red and tender, and to not allow you to cum. What do you think of that?”

“She is my mistress. She knows what is best for me. It is not my place to question her judgment. My purpose is to serve her needs, her wants. In so doing I have found deep fulfillment. She can be harsh and demanding at times, but I need it, I love it. She has also been very generous to me already, so I owe her very much. I am rather new at being a submissive, but my mistress is by far the best I have offered myself to. She is so beautiful, and so creative in coming up with new ways to test me and to expand my commitment to her.”

“She is certainly a lucky bitch, isn’t she?” Mrs. Griffith sighs bitterly, “How did she find you, anyway?”

“I posted an ad on Craigslist personals, seeking an experienced dominatrix, and we hit it off immediately. I think I am the lucky one, as I’ve heard some scary stories about the strange people that one can get mixed up with on there.”

“Well, it looks like Elizabeth finally hit the jackpot this time. I met a couple of her previous ‘slaves’ and they were nothing compared to you. You are so damn cute; you seem smart, so polite and so cheerful! I can’t understand why a young man with so much going for him would put himself in an ‘abusive’ relationship like that, rather than one in which he is treated with respect?”

“I’m no counselor, and I don’t pretend to know the answers to your question. But I AM more comfortable being controlled than being in control. Maybe I just don’t trust myself yet. I’m not sure what my limits are, but I love to take dares and risks; I trust my mistress to keep me safe, alive and out of jail. Plus, she certainly knows how to keep me excited sexually.

“This may be just a phase I am going through, but I want to go as deep as I can in this relationship, to learn as much as I can, to have as much fun in the process. If I can bring her—and you–pleasure, then that is even better.”

“Now that you mention it, I DO need some pleasuring; it has been soooo long…” Mrs. Griffith purrs, “But how to do it without you cumming?”

“No problem!” I enthuse, “I have hands, a tongue, a nose. And I noticed that you have more cucumbers in your fridge, too!”

“Oh, those won’t be necessary,” she laughs, “I have a drawer full of dildos and vibrators in my bedroom. Shall we retire there?”

“Yes, by all means ma’am. Lead the way!”

“No, you go first. I want to watch your hot little butt jiggle with that fat cucumber buried in there; it must be pickled by now!”

I laugh along with her as we climb the sweeping stairs to the second floor, trying to wiggle my hips and ass like the slut that I feel I am becoming. Pausing at the threshold of her bedroom, I admire the frilly white linens and deep cherry wood furniture briefly, before her hand on my rear shoves me to the four-poster bed, where I sprawl spread-eagle on the soft down duvet. I look back over my shoulder as she excitedly kneels between my legs, bringing her face within inches of my ass.

“I don’t see anything. Are you sure it’s still in there?” I feel her breath tickling my sensitive skin as she speaks.

“Oh, I’m sure, I feel it there”

“Does it feel good? Does it hurt? Do you need it to come out now?”

“Yes, it feels great! But it IS getting a bit sore; I do need to let it out soon, thanks.”

“Okay, push it out then if you can,” she allows. And I do. She stares in awe, as my butt cheeks and sphincter work in tandem to force the cucumber out. Now it is warm and soft, still shiny and slick.

“Oh that’s SO hot!” the older lady exhales, puckering her lips and blowing on my stretched hole.

With a rhythm of its own, my anus closes tightly, alternately gaping open, allowing her soft breath to tickle the super-stimulated mucous membranes deep inside my rectum.

“I’ve never been so close to a butt-hole before,” she continues, laying the cucumber aside. “When we were younger my husband used to love playing with mine, but I never understood his fascination. Now I think I see…”

“Mmmm yeah, I just LOVE asses, both men’s and women’s…

“Did you ever play with his? Did he ever lick yours? Did you let him fuck yours?” I venture.

She sighs deeply, “No, I never did get my hands on his… He never came out and asked me to.

“Looking back, I think he wanted me to, but was afraid to say so. He never licked my hole either, but I did let him put his penis in it whenever he wanted. I never enjoyed it as much as he did though.”

“Really?” I prod, “Did it hurt?” I pull myself toward the pillows, leaving Mrs. Griffith kneeling in the center of the king-size bed, twisting around so that I am facing her delectable derriere, soaking in the view for a few long seconds.

“No, it didn’t really hurt, although he did get pretty rough at times. It just made me feel dirty, like an animal, like…”

My hands are on her wide hips now, my fingers sneaking their way into the elastic waistband of her tight, stretchy shorts. “Like a SLUT?”

“Yes, that’s it; like a slut! And in those days that was considered a very BAD thing.” She looks back over her shoulder, watching me as I work her shorts down her thighs to her knees.

I inhale deeply, savoring the feminine musk emanating from her hot cunt. “Unfortunately, attitudes haven’t changed very much over time,” I lament, “Many people still think those who enjoy sex to the fullest are bad people. But I know men, and every man I know wishes his wife, or his partner, was a slut– at least to her partner, and even if only in the privacy of their bedroom.”

She had straightened her knees momentarily, allowing me to slide her soft satin shorts past her knees, and then she helped me get them around her sandaled feet and off.

“I also believe that ALL of us have an ‘inner slut’ just screaming to get out; but our own guilt, our family, church, and society use fear to keep it bottled up.” My hands roam all over her round globes and firm thighs, at times tracing the lines between her tan legs and back, and the creamy white skin of her butt. “Most folks never get in touch with their deep inner selves, instead letting others tell them what is right and wrong, good and bad.” I punctuate my sentences with licks and kisses on her backside, patiently zeroing in on my target. “As far as roughness goes—those of us who enjoy anal sex have a hard time controlling our urges. It just brings out the ‘beast’ in us… I enjoy pounding into a hot butt-hole nearly as much as I love to have my own pounded, the harder the better!”

I have no more words to add, so I let my hands spread Mrs. Griffith’s full cheeks apart, my nose and then my tongue descending on her tiny, tender rose-bud. I moan deeply into her crack, trying to loosen her up, and feel the rumble echo back in my ears, as they are squeezed between two flexing globes of flesh. A deep breath, then I dive in again, this time my tongue pushing past the resistant ring of her sphincter, then worming around inside the dark, funky moistness of her rectum. Her fingers busy stimulating her own pussy and clit, my senior lover shudders violently, her whimpers and shrieks muffled by a large soft pillow. Collapsing prone on her bed, her body periodically wracked by orgasmic aftershocks, she looks back at me through glazed eyes, panting.

“That- was- fan- tas- tic!”

I beam down at her, catching my breath, excited over the prospect of another anal ‘convert’. Helping her pull the damp tank top over her head, I lick my lips at the sight of two cherry-topped sundaes.