Giving Myself Away: The Middle

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She is helpless to stop Dean.
3k words
4.57
50.4k
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 06/09/2003
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I scrambled to change my clothes before Jack came upstairs. As it turned out, Dean was right. Jack walked into the bedroom only a few minutes after Dean had exited. I felt panicked, certain that somehow Jack would know what had happened, would be able to read on my face what I had been doing, or would somehow be able to smell the lingering aroma of my initial foray into wantonness. Not five minutes earlier, I had been on my knees in front of another man, willing to do whatever he wanted, and now I was kissing my husband and asking how his day was.

And later...

What would I be doing later? Surely I couldn't go through with what Dean wished. That would be insane. To perform fellatio on him in the middle of the night in my own living room while my husband and daughter slept upstairs. To use my mouth on him, or rather, have him use my mouth for his pleasure. It was a crazy thought. But it was also an unbelievably alluring one. It would be like living out my wildest fantasies, wouldn't it?

No, I couldn't do it. It was too dangerous. Better to just not go downstairs, not let Dean in again. Let this whole evening just fade away like a memory.

But it didn't fade away.

As the night wore on, progressing toward some pivotal point from which I still believed I could turn back, I relived the scene with Dean again and again. I lay in bed with Jack watching television. Well, he was watching, and I was in turmoil, still unsure what I was going to do. I wanted to listen to the part of me that believed that fantasy should remain just that, but to actually turn fantasy into reality was oh so tempting. The things Dean would make me do if I just let him. Could I even turn back at this point. Would that just anger him to the point that he would wait for me to be alone and then just come and take me, violently. That was another intriguing thought. It was unreal the torrent of sexuality that Dean had released. There was not much I could do to hold it back.

Later that night, when I was sure Jack had fallen into a deep sleep, I eased out of bed wearing a sexy little light blue babydoll nightie that Jack had paid little attention to, which was the norm for my husband. I crept out of the room and down the hall, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing or hearing no signs of life from Shannon's room. Hopefully she was deep asleep as well.

I don't know what was going through my mind as I descended the stairs. I was in some type of self-induced sexual trance, I think. Only concerned with satisfying the erotic feelings that had been stirred in me, not worrying about any consequences that my actions might bring. And still believing on some level that it was just a playful game, that Dean probably wouldn't even be outside waiting for me. That I could just check quickly and then go back up to bed, back to the straight-laced existence I had lived all these years.

I made my way through the darkened rooms to the sliding glass door at the rear of the house. I slowly opened the blinds and peered into the night. He wasn't there. The back yard was still and empty, but for a long unused playset we had bought for Shannon years ago. My body relaxed as the tension drained away, and I realized that maybe I hadn't really wanted this to happen after all. That was when Dean stepped into view. He had been waiting at the side of the sliding door, and must have seen the movement of the blinds. I froze instantly, all the tension returning to me as if my body had just been magnetized. The spell he had over me evidently hadn't worn away in the few hours since our upstairs meeting. I watched his lips move, and though I couldn't hear his voice, I could read his lips.

"Open it," he mouthed, pointing to the door latch.

I couldn't break my immobility, realizing that here was yet another turning point. Another moment of decision in which I could turn and scurry back up the stairs, refusing to let my behavior get out of control, no matter what signals my body was sending me.

"Now," he shaped with his lips.

That word pushed me over the edge. It was an order I couldn't help following. My heart fluttering in my chest, I fumbled to twist the lock and slid the door open, removing the last barrier preventing Dean from doing what he wanted with me. I stood before him in blue lace, feeling a soft summer breeze caress my body, blowing through my nightie and increasing the hardening of my nipples.

"What a lovely vision you are," he said. "You're mine now."

He said it without a trace of query. It was simply a given fact.

"Lead on, slut. You know what to do."

Without a word, I turned and led him back through the kitchen to the living room. I felt him more than heard him following me. It was almost as if I were a dog on a leash, and he my master. With great trepidation I stopped and turned to face him in the middle of the living room.

The only light was that of the moon, finding its way through the immense bay window that looked out upon our front yard. The moonlight painted us with a surreal midnight glow. From the window you could also see several of the houses across the street, and hence if someone were looking at our house from one of those houses, they could see the window, though I'm not sure if they could actually see into it, especially at night. I didn't want to take any chances and began to reach for the shade. Dean grasped my arm to stop me. He shook his head, denying me.

I pleaded with my eyes.

"Please," I whispered.

"No," he answered with his own firm whisper, ending the matter and establishing who was in charge. "The next time you say please, you will be begging for my cock. Do you understand?"

His grip tightened on my arm.

"Yes," I answered.

He then used my arm to pull me toward him, forcing my body against his. He kissed me hard, using his tongue to pry my mouth open. His hands were all over me then, roughly touching and squeezing me. Groping my ass, holding me against him. I could feel his hardness pressing against my belly. He mauled my breasts with his strong hands. I couldn't think straight. It was an assault on my senses, like I was a new toy that he had been waiting to play with.

I was becoming overwhelmed. This was happening way too fast, but there was no way to stop it now. I had let him in. I had gotten myself into this situation, and saw no way out but to see it through to the end.

Dean lifted me up with ease, and before I knew it I was standing on top of our coffee table, looking down at him, at his greedy eyes as they drank in the site of my body. He lifted my babydoll nightgown up above my abdomen and kissed my belly, licking around my belly button. I moaned before I knew it had escaped my throat.

I felt his fingers hook into the waistband at the sides of my panties. I closed my eyes and leaned against him as he slid them down to my feet. I don't know why, but at that moment I thought about what my husband would see if he walked down the stairs: This young man caressing my body as I stood on top of our living room coffee table with my panties around my ankles. Dean's mouth moved lower and pushed all thoughts of my husband from my mind.

He kissed me there. I don't think I have ever felt as much pleasure from physical contact. I wanted him to continue, but he lifted me down from the table, again switching our perspectives. Now I was looking up at him, but not as much as I would be in a few seconds.

"On your knees," he told me.

Again I felt that unexplainable sensation inside, the realization of hours upon hours spent fantasizing about just such a situation.

My knees buckled, and I descended to a kneeling position in front of him. I gazed up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make the next move, but he just looked down at me as if savoring his conquest. It was apparent he wanted me to do the work. I reached forward to undo his pants. He stopped me by grabbing my hands in his.

"Beg for it," he said, louder than I would have wished.

"Please," I whispered.

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir, may I suck your cock?"

"Louder."

I closed my eyes in frustration, wondering again how I had gotten myself into this situation. I asked him again, my soft, pleading voice sounding like a shout in the nocturnal quiet of the living room. I prayed that sound didn't carry to the second floor any more than I thought it did.

This seemed to satisfy him, and he let go of my hands.

I unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and lowered them to the floor. Any hesitation I may have experienced previously had disappeared. Now I was just a slut with an aching need to perform as a slut would. Dean's boxer briefs quickly followed his pants. He stepped out of them and stood before me, completely naked, having removed his shirt while I was taking care of the rest.

He was a young god. The moonlight lent credit to the appearance that his muscles were chiseled from stone. He stood over me, master of the moment, his rock hard prick jutting into the air, unashamedly, an impressive tower of flesh just inches away from its inevitable destination, my mouth.

In my submissive position, I leaned forward slowly and touched my lips lightly against the shaft of his penis. I continued, knowing that I couldn't stop now. I had no choice but to give him the blowjob he had demanded. My lips pressed harder against his flesh as I kissed it up and down.

"Good, good," he encouraged me, then forcefully whispered "Now lick my balls, whore."

"Yes, sir," I replied, really taking to the subservient role.

I lifted his cock straight up with one hand while I ran my tongue down to his testicles, licking them in turn, then sucking each into my mouth, one at a time. As I alternated this way, I could hear his restrained moans of pleasure. He obviously didn't want to make enough noise for us to get caught either. And why would he? That would end this little power play.

"That's it," he coached. "What a good little whore you are. Look up at me, whore."

Until he said that, I hadn't realized that I had closed my eyes while bathing his balls with my tongue. I snapped them open to see him leering down at me.

"I knew you would be like this when I got a hold of you. Just an outright slut, on your knees trying to stuff my cock into your mouth. You've always wanted to be a dirty little cocksucker, haven't you, Sylvia?"

"Mmmmm", I moaned in assent, still slurping on one of his testicles, staring up into his cold blue eyes.

"Now's your chance, Sylvia. Show me what a good little cocksucker you are. And you'd better make it good."

I licked my way back up his shaft, and finally plunged my mouth down onto his cock, feeling it slide in across the wetness of my tongue. I felt so depraved, using my mouth on him this way, as if I were some kind of animal trying to satisfy a primal need, when in reality it was his need I was servicing.

I began to suck his cock in earnest, bobbing my head up and down, feeling the solid rod of flesh exit and enter my wide open mouth, again and again. My saliva now coated the entire length of his dick, and dribbled out of my mouth and down my chin. I was moaning periodically with base animal lust. I say moaning, but it was more like the squeal of a pig. I must have looked like such a debased whore.

I don't know how long this continued. I was too caught up in the experience, doing my best to please him, embracing the sheer debauchery of it all. At some point he pulled back, removing his gorgeous manhood from my mouth with a wet sucking sound, leaving me panting and unfulfilled. I looked up at him from my knees with what must have looked like desperation in my eyes. Oh god, I needed his cock in my mouth.

"Get on the couch."

I moved quickly, my trepidation returning, not knowing what he had in store for me now. I sat in the center of the couch, the black leather feeling cool through the thin lingerie that I still wore. Dean stood before me and reached down to slide his hands up the length of my arms. He then slid the straps of my nightie off my shoulders and began to pull the light blue lace down over my chest, exposing my breasts to the moonlight as well as his gaze.

He caressed them with those strong young hands, gradually increasing pressure and speed, pinching my nipples, making me nearly cry out in mixed pain and pleasure.

He then took me be surprise by getting onto the couch on his knees and straddling me. His cock flopped onto my breastbone, and he used his hands to wrap his hardness within the softness of my breasts. He made a few slow thrusts, as if just testing it out, fucking my tits. I had never had my tits fucked before. It seemed like something a man would only do to a prostitute.

This evidently wasn't what Dean's ultimate goal was, because he stopped thrusting after a short while, and brought his hands up to my face, pushing my head back against the couch, and inserting two fingers between my lips. I sucked on them reflexively. He then removed his fingers and pushed down on my shoulders so that I slid further down on the couch, not stopping until my face was again level with his cock.

Realizing that he wanted me to continue my oral ministrations, I reached up to guide him back inside my mouth, but he pushed my hands away and spoke firmly.

"Hands down, mouth open."

I couldn't believe that he could bark out commands so assuredly. Nor could I believe the ease with which I obeyed him. I lowered my hands to my sides, abandoning what control I had left in the scenario.

"Open up, Sylvia. I'm going to come in your mouth."

I licked my lips, and once again I obeyed him, opening my mouth as wide as I could, my dignity nowhere to be found.

"Stick out your tongue."

I pushed it out over my lower lip, presenting my oral cavity for his use. He thrust forward carefully, and lay the head of his penis onto my tongue. He kept it there for a few long seconds before pushing forward and sliding it all the way in. I closed my lips around it, expecting him to pull back out immediately and begin fucking my mouth, but he stopped there, with the head of his cock pushing at the entrance to my throat, overwhelmed by the immenseness between my lips. It seemed larger and harder than it had been a few minutes ago. I took stock of the position I was in. Slouched down, breasts bared, with Dean about to use my mouth as a vagina, to relieve himself into. It was so dirty, and I'm ashamed to admit I was so into it.

Then it began.

He started fucking between my lips without much mercy. It was obvious he was only thinking of his own pleasure. I felt my head being pushed into the back of the couch by the motion of his hips. Not being able to help myself, I was moaning like a whore again. And Dean wasn't finished giving me orders.

"Finger yourself."

I slid my hand down my stomach, between my legs, and parted my already wet pussy lips. My fingers moved in time with his thrusts, increasing the intensity of the encounter to a maddening level.

He was working hard and giving more voice to his pleasure. The moment was drawing near. He made one final thrust and held my head with his hands, even though it wasn't going anywhere. I felt his semen spurt into my mouth, and began to swallow it, in my mind, the ultimate act of a true whore. Every fantasy I'd ever had was realized as I felt his cock pulse again and again onto my tongue, emptying his built up fluids down my throat. He pulled out, but held my jaw open with one hand while aiming his still shooting member into the open "O" formed by my lips. When he was finished, he wiped the residual wetness onto my lips. I bathed him clean like a hungry slut, all the way back down to his balls.

He rose from the couch as if I were a video game he was finished playing. Before I knew it he was dressed and headed back through the kitchen to leave. I had hurriedly readjusted my nightie and pulled my panties back on. Catching him before he was out the door, I asked the question that had been nagging at me from the start.

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what, Sylvia?"

"That I was...that I would..." I couldn't find the words, despite the carnal acts in which I had just participated.

He smiled, a cold, mocking curve of the lips. "I'll tell you tomorrow. After I fuck you."

"No, Dean, no. I..."

"Tomorrow night," he said, flatly. "I'll be waiting again."

Oh my god. What am I going to do?

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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
Talented

Very talented! The story evokes such atmosphere it seemed so real. Not so much dialogue as thr forst part but then how could there be. You must continue!

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
please

Wow!! Please write more! This is one of my favorite stories ever...

AnonymousAnonymousabout 18 years ago
More more more

Let's have the next part PLEASE !!!! This was brilliant !!!!

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