My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 05

I don't know why she's complaining -- well I do, she loves the cuddles -- I'm the one that has to play a Neutral/Neutral Goliath Fighter with an INT of 6. It's not even as badass as it sounds, but I'm the noob so I get the boring-as-fuck tank.

"I swing my greathammer." Roll d20, roll 3d6, wait 3-5 minutes. "I swing my greathammer." Roll d20, roll 3d6, wait 3-5 minutes. "I swing my greathammer" and so on. Next campaign ...[*titters* Jenny is turning Kay into a geek *titters* -- Nic]...

We get back from D&D, and she's all tired out and happy, but we still need to talk.

Back in my bedroom, I lift her Gaz tee over her head from behind then pull off her panties and GIR pants together before removing her white sports bra. She kicks off her own shoes.

Naked, she crawls under the covers and watches as I remove my jacket, shoes, blouse, jeans, bra, and panties. I stand there for a moment under her gaze just letting her take me in. Then I wink at her, kill the lights, and spoon her in my snug bed.

"Kitten?"

"Yeah, Baby?"

"I talked to Nic. You are a submissive." I hug her tighter. "I love that about you. It's why we fit together so well and it makes complete sense that you would crave some authority in your life. It doesn't mean that you're any less smart, strong, or valuable and it doesn't mean that you don't have freewill and rights. Okay?"

"Okay." She seems more contented with my answer this time and wriggles back further into my embrace. My girlfriend's voice takes on a more mischievous quality as she continues, "What does it mean, Baby?"

"It means I get to spoil you when you're good and punish you when you're bad, then fuck you and cuddle you after either way."

"What if I'm really bad?"

"What kind of 'really bad' do you mean, Naughty Girl?"

"If I tried to run away?..."

Don't judge me. If she tried to leave, I'd do everything in my power to talk her into staying with me. That's all. (That and my world would stop turning if I failed.) But that's not what she wants to hear right now. Right now my girlfriend needs to hear that I'll never let her go.

"I'd tackle you before you got to the door, bend you over the dining room table, fuck you until you begged to cum, and then keep making you cum until you begged to stay."

"Mmmmm...deal." She jerks and twists in my arms as though to break loose.

I roll her onto her back, pin her arms above her head, and let my hair drape in her face, swathing her in lavender and tickling her nose and cheeks while descending ever lower and closer to her. My lips inches from hers, I let her feel wanted and loved at once.

"I am happy to bend your sexy ass over the table and make you scream for me, my naughty girl, but are you sure that's what you want right now? You were barely keeping your eyes open earlier."

"I am pretty sleepy, Baby."

"Alright, Cutie. Why don't I go back to snuggling you and telling you how amazing you are?"

I feel her nose brush against mine as she nods, so I curl up with her again and murmur to her about how wonderful, sweet, smart, cute, sexy, etc she is and most of all how she's mine. Once I hear her breath steady and slow, I turn on my audiobook of Moll Flanders in my headphones and try to fall asleep myself.

Taking loving care of my gentle girl had a sharp learning curve as a skill. I think I'm getting it down. I used to suck at it...

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

We had sex in the backseat of my convertible down at the Tennis Club and I maybe fucked her more forcefully than I intended. Actually, I certainly fucked her more forcefully than I intended. When I realized that I'd made her cry, I didn't handle the situation as well as I should have for her.

"Are you okay, Angel?"

She nodded, but tears still ran freely down her sylphlike face in the silver moonlight. My girlfriend appeared so fragile, so excruciatingly, delicately, beautiful. And I made her cry.

Despite a track record of sexual acts some would find depraved, that was the first and only time I've ever been disgusted with myself.

I stood hunched over the backseat and inspected her girly bits as best I could by the light of the moon.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart," I tried to comfort her while I looked with my eyes and hands. There was certainly no blood and there didn't seem to be any tissue damage. So I didn't cause physical injury. Yay? "Just checking to see if I hurt you."

"No, you-, you didn't hurt me, Baby." Her voice sounded so weak. I should have believed her. She doesn't lie. But her prone body shook in nakedness.

Wordlessly, I put her cartoony pants on her, bundled her in my big leather jacket, and belted her into the passenger seat. I drove in silence while she leaned curled in a fetal position against the back of her seat. Neither of us said anything until I pulled off the 5 at her exit and she stirred confused.

"Baby, where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home, Kiddo."

"B-but you p-p-prom-promised I could st-stay with you tonight?"

If she wanted a puppy or a kidney, that was the moment to ask. I'd hardly deny her anything, but I couldn't believe what she wanted.

"Okay. We can go to my house. Whatever you'd like, Kiddo."

She coiled back up, contented to be riding home with me. The guilt and quiet ate at me until I had to say something.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Baby. We're going to your place now." She smiled at me and patted my leg. The knife in my guts twisted.

"It's not okay. You have to tell me if I'm doing something that's hurting you." Really? I was blaming her?

She looked thoroughly befuddled.

"The coffee you get me in the mornings makes me shaky and it's hard to sort pills?" She hesitated to say.

What?

"I'll stop that too then. But I'm talking about the fact that I just held you down and fucked you to tears?"

"No that's not...I liked that. It was really *uhnh* though."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No, n-not at all."

I exhaled the breath I wasn't conscious of holding. I really thought I'd done something horrible to my innocent girl. But that brought up a new fear.

"Kiddo, I need to know that you'll tell me if I do things you don't like. Like the coffee?"

"I, I know. It was nice though. And you're so nice. And I don't want you to not want to be nice and not want me. Because I don't like the nice thing?" She sounded as confused as she sounded.

Her day started at 6am. I knew that. I also knew she had been through some huge emotional pendulum swings and was fucked out. It's not like I was in a Zen state either. Adrianne told me not to bring the subject of Asperger's up until after the shrink talked with my girlfriend anyway, because I'd be sure to muck it up.

I am a great idiot.

"Has anyone ever talked to you about Asperger syndrome, Kiddo?"

Now that, that she understood. She knew exactly what Asperger syndrome meant and exactly what it meant to her. My girlfriend's head hung and her words ended in sobs.

"I hoped you wouldn't notice." Big tears welled in her honey-golden brown eyes. "Or that you wouldn't care."

Damn the Imp of the Perverse! I pulled over, no mean feat even in the small hours in Seattle. She wouldn't cry from being hurt or scared ever again. Not on my watch. And especially not from my actions.

I unbelted and wrapped her up in me.

"No, Angel. It's not like that. I don't mind, but I do care." She risked a hopeful nod. "I worry that I may inadvertently hurt you without you protesting or me noticing. But I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm not good at it and have made a mess of things." I petted her in my arms. "I love you. It doesn't change anything and it's nothing we have to deal with tonight."

"Thank you."

I kissed the crown of her head, gave her a tiny squeeze, and let her settle back into her seat.

She lost her battle with sleep on the drive and didn't wake when we pulled into my garage. I lifted her out of the car and carried her inside. She can't weigh much over 110lbs - if that- so she's not heavy and bringing her over the threshold, through my house, and to my bed was easy.

I pulled my jacket and her pants off her before tucking her in. It was my first time seeing her naked without considering performing a sexual act on her.

Trudging back out to my car, I grabbed her backpack, then brought it into my bathroom so she'd have something to wear in the morning. Correction; later in the morning. (She's had D&D sessions turn into all-nighters, so she keeps a change of clothes in her backpack.) Once there, I brushed my teeth and hair, washed my face, and generally prepared for bed.

My girlfriend was stirring in my bed when I returned, moaning frightfully in her sleep. She cried out for someone in warning, but her enunciation wasn't clear. Her fretful sleep was certainly a side-effect of my putting her through too much stress, and - despite my earlier promise to myself - already I let her face her fears alone.

"Kitten, Kitten." I shook her awake. "You're safe. I'm here."

"Baby?" She turned to face me, cowering from her nightmare. "I had a bad dream. Will you hold me?"

"Of course, Beautiful." My arms locked around her, I rolled her onto her back and lay half on my side and half sprawled over her, so she could feel my weight on her and feel safe. She clung to me desperately, but her sleep became peaceful.

She needed to start seeing Dr. Caldwell that day. I'd see to it. With that decision made, I should have been at peace too.

Sleep didn't come though, and worries chased their tails in my head. Asperger's, night terrors, timidity, dependency. Was I harmful in her life? What demons was she facing in her sleep? Memories? Fears? Would I take her out of the frying pan of loneliness and low self-esteem only to drop her in the fire of codependence and insecurity? What if I did hurt her?

Predawn gray light filtered in through my window. An hour later, my alarm went off. Nothing beyond ensuring she got help had resolved itself in my agitated mind.

"Wake up, Sweetness." I kissed her soft skin until she smiled, still feigning sleep so I'd keep touching and kissing her. Our morning wake up canoodle is a fun game for both of us normally, but I'd let her sleep as long as I could and it was time for work.

I pulled the covers back to expose her tight tummy, then put raspberries all over her belly to make her giggle uncontrollably. She is so cute and so worth it.

"Baby- *giggle* Baby, stop. I'll *giggle* I'll get up. *giggle* I prom- *giggle*" I let her up and kissed her forehead.

"Your bag's in here, Pretty Girl, and we could both use a shower." I turned on the hot water for her and she stepped in. I thought of joining her, but figured that my "help" probably wouldn't speed up the process. So we talked instead while she showered and I brushed.

"Hey, Cutie," I paused to spit, "I'm gonna set up an appointment for you today with Dr. Caldwell."

"Okay, but I have work?"

"It's medical, Darling. You can go during work."

"Umm, Baby, my boss-"

"-will tell you when it's time to go. There'll be a car waiting to take you and bring you back to work after. You just worry about having a good talk with the therapist, alright?"

"Alright." She stepped out of the shower. Water droplets dripped off her perfect, fuckable body. Damn, I just wanted to-

"Right, so here's a towel, Kitten." I climbed in and flipped the water to cold. That never works in real life.

My girlfriend dressed before I got out, but that particular little look of lust perked her face when I walked naked across the tiles for a towel of my own.

"Baby, do we maybe have time to...you know?" She blushed and smiled up at me. Everything in me wanted to tell her to quit her job and come be my wifey. Would she? If I asked, would she just drop such an important part of her life that she took such pride in?

"No, Sexiness. I'm putting on my clothes and taking you to the hospital." She pouted, but nodded in acquiescence.

She ordered hot cocoa at the drive thru coffee place, while I got my standard Chai Tea Latte. My hand rested in her lap, squeezed between her warm thighs in her thin cloth pants. We chatted about her job while I drove.

"I get to help little kids feel better. It's very orderly and exact; the right prescriptions for the right pills in the right bottles to be given to the right patients. The restocking and organizing makes me happy. I don't have to talk to people very much. Plus, there's lots of time off for tv series or gaming marathons."

After a rather hard road as a teenager, she'd taken out student loans for a certification course, got a respectable job at Seattle Children's, leased that little apartment, and was so proud of how right-side up her life had become.

I was proud of her too, and told her so as I dropped her off at the hospital with a kiss.

At work I placed a call for a 1pm appointment with Dr. Caldwell, arranged a car, and then called Dr. Hartford to contact a colleague at Seattle Children's and ensure my girl would be free for the appointment.

After a bit of good-natured chiding about my lovesickness from Dr. Hartford, I called her obnoxiously correct girlfriend for some direct advice.

"So, last night I made my girlfriend cry from sex, then I blamed her for not stopping me and accused her of being too uncommunicative for me, so she had literal nightmares. I am a terrible person."

"Good morning to you too, Kay. Now what the fuck?" I told Nic the whole story, while she assured me that I was unschooled, but not a terrible person.

"You've never had a girl cry before? You?" Nic likes to remind me of my wild oat sowing.

"No. Maybe. I never cared before. And she didn't just cry, she shook and she keened. She looked...expended. Like I'd taken something from her that left her diminished and powerless."

"Your solution was to check her for physical damage, take her to her apartment, and leave her there? Alone?"

"...yes."

"Okay. You need a relationship sponsor, because the poor girl loves you. Somewhere Cupid is dancing around laughing his ass off at her luck, but Jenny does love you. And you love her?"

"Yes."

"Then getting her off is only one of your responsibilities to her," Nic riled, "You made her cum? Yippee-fucking-Skippy. A vibrator and a YouTube How-to can do that. The more important part is how you care for her. When she responses to powerful feelings during sex by crying and shaking -- which is a normal and valid response when a lover is emotionally invested -- you hold her and comfort her. No matter what kinky stuff you talk that nice girl into doing, she should always feel respected and shielded by you."

"Make sure she's safe and loved at all times?"

"Yes. You are her keeper. Keep her happy, keep her secure, and keep her satisfied. Simple as that."

Simple as that? How do I shield her from her subconscious? How do I know if she's pleased if she won't just tell me? How...?

Fuck it. Happy. Secure. Satisfied. From that moment on, she'd be happy, secure, and satisfied. I'd see to it.

I thanked Nic and felt more at ease, but still stressed over the outcome of my girlfriend's appointment and how I could protect her without hobbling her. I was useless with pent up worry for the entire workday and didn't accomplish anything.

"Sherry," I called out to the office manager, "I'm bugging out now."

Dirty little secret time? Sometimes -- especially when I'm stressed over a problem I can't solve -- I like to get fucked. Proper fucked. On my back, no responsibilities, enjoying the expert thrusting of a bigass strapon cock, wildly unconcerned with any other focus, fucked.

Given my control issues, I can't get that from a random pick up. The thrills of the unknown are always tempered with the hazards of the unknown. I didn't want any additional variables to consider during my mental palate cleanser. Just a basic rogering from a skilled professional.

I called Hannah to book a quick appointment and zipped over to her apartment.

Hannah works as a prostitute. Before you judge, her job is to provide pleasure to lonely people. It may not be noble per se, but it's harmless and that's more than can be said of what I do. Though, it should be noted that she's equally good at her job.

Hannah buzzes me up and I let myself in. It's a large and well-appointed place, so she must do reasonably well for herself. I believe she's an independent contractor and I know she has a second job she works from home, but I've never asked for details.

I walk in and shake her hand before handing her her money, just as I would an artist I'd commissioned to paint a mural or a landscaper I'd hired to plant fruiting trees. Handing her a strapon harness was a little different, but she just walked to the bathroom to put it on.

(It's unfair to expect her to keep different toys for different clients, but I gather that her bread and butter is dominatrix work and I don't fancy being fucked with something that's been in several men's asses already. I also dissuaded her from putting on that particular act for me. I don't need a Domme, just a good, clean fuck.)

Her bedroom is as lovely as she. A king bed with fluffy cotton sheets smelling of Downy. Lace privacy curtains allowing in warm sunshine. Goo Goo Dolls' "Here Is Gone" playing quietly in the background.

~~~Undressed, I waited in the softness of her bed until she walked in, also naked except for my strapon.

She's a beautiful woman with deep brown hair, a Roman face, clear olive skin, hefty breasts, trim hips, and powerful legs. Hannah's body looks as though she's paid to fuck for a living.

Hannah climbed atop me, kissing me with the ease natural to set encounters. The pleasures of her lips and tongue filled and relaxed my body and brain without the obliging passion of love, the indefinite passion of casual sex, or the designing passion of seduction. Her womanly, feminine, balmy body pressed into mine immodestly, brazenly undulating so her curves shifted over me and drove up our respective body heat.

My eyes closed. There was no duty to perform, no fairness to establish, no wall to overcome. There was just a beautiful and gratifying woman, paid handsomely in exchange for sexual fulfillment without complications.

Kissing continued as her fingers found their way between my moistened thighs. I was wide open to her advance, making her job easier and inviting her into me. She rubbed my g-spot with that perfect touch and drew more moisture into the palm of her hand.

I sank into lust with her while her tongue tickled the back of my throat and her two dexterous fingers tickled deep, deep inside of my snatch. They moved in and out leisurely, rubbing and rubbing my sweet spot. It sent a calm wildfire to my brain, burning away everything in its path.

Sopping wet and moaning in undisguised need, my body was ready for the next phase of pleasure in her bed.

My eyes fluttered open briefly when her fingers left my pussy, but closed again with a contented sigh when they saw her go to her elbows above me. The strapon pushed to the opening of my cunny, held for a moment, then slid deftly inside me. Not so big as to be challenging, but enough to fill the void, the need, the desire, the want, the urge.

She held there, her breath steady and her body soothing. Soon my ass pressed down into the mattress and back up onto the toy ever so slightly. Then again. Then a bit more. Then enough to break the skin-on-skin contact between our mounds and thighs.

Hannah's kiss sharpened briefly and broke. Her strong legs and practised hips pulled the strapon nearly out, so just the large gel head stayed at the opening of my pussy for a delectably non-teasing second.

Then the plunge.

She thrust into me using controlled and hard strokes that ripped wild moans from me in my inhibition. My legs hugged her to me with force on her downstroke and let loose on her upstroke. My pelvis flew to meet hers at the mad speed I set. She matched my frenzy with the professionalism and proficiency I'd come to expect and I'd come to get.