Tell Me Everything

David swiped his hand across the mirror, checking for stray stubble in the brief moment before the glass fogged up again. Satisfied, he continued to dry off, finally wrapping the towel around his waist and opening the bathroom door to a blast of arctic air, and stepping out into the hallway amid a cloud of steam. The clock on the wall directly opposite showed 2:15. He would have plenty of time to get dressed and wait for the others to come pick him up.

It wasn't that he particularly relished the evening's plans. The restaurant they had picked wasn't one of his favorites. The movie they were going to looked awful in the previews. But his old buddy Mike would be there, along with Alan and his wife Christine. It would be good to catch up on old times with the guys, and meet Christine, even if the food and movie were lousy. Janine had picked those out, and he had gone along with it because she was single, and beautiful. He had scolded himself several times for letting that sway his decision, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Time to get dressed.

He jumped about two feet when he opened the bedroom door and saw her. Janine, lovely as ever, sitting on his bed and casually flipping through a magazine. He mumbled an embarrassed greeting, too stunned for the moment to ask just what the hell she thought she was doing in his bedroom. She looked up and smiled, and went back to her magazine. A long, awkward pause followed, and she finally glanced at him and patted the space beside her. "Come on, sit down."

Only when he did so did he realize what magazine she was reading, and he flushed beat-red. Janine chuckled. "Interesting reading material you have here. Is this yours as well? I found it under the bed." David cringed. She was holding up a gym sock, stiff with dried semen. Janine giggled at his embarrassment. "Why David, whatever do you use this for?" She cackled a little at this, and fell back on the bed.

David tried to get angry, to berate her for invading his privacy like this, but couldn't force any words out. This was all so sudden . . . what did this bitch think she was doing?

She sat up. "David, how long have you wanted to fuck me?" He blinked. "Excuse me?" "You heard me," she said in a kindly, patronizing voice. "I know you want to fuck me. How long has this been going on? Since high school?"

"I, uh . . . what? I don't uh . . . I mean . . ." and then, under his breath: "yeah." Janine smiled. "That's what I thought. I knew you were checking me out back then, but I wanted to hear you say it. Now tell me," she said, holding up the sock. "How much of this is because of me?"

David stood up, his senses starting to return. "Listen, Janine, I don't know what the hell..." but he never finished the sentence. She was just sitting there, smiling that coy little smile of hers at him, and he couldn't bring himself to shout at her. "Okay, uh . . . what do you want me to say, Janine?"

"I just want you to tell me if you think about me when you jerk off."

"That's really none-"

"Just tell me."

He sighed, blushed some more. "Yes. I've had a few fantasies about you, if you must know."

This seemed to please her, and she held up the magazine she'd pulled from under his bed. "Kinky stuff, David. Is this the kind of thing you like to think about me doing?"

" . . . I . . ."

She smiled. "What's the matter, can't remember? Forget all that stuff as soon as you're done jerking off?" Another cruel giggle. "Tell ya what. If it'll help you remember, then get to it, because you're gonna have to answer the question sooner or later."

And David, too stunned to resist, lay back on the bed and untied the towel.

"Now, isn't that better? Are those fantasies coming back to you?" Another giggle. He was fully erect now, his hand moving up and down his dick in the old comfortable rhythm. His eyes were closed, but he was acutely aware of Janine's eyes on him. "Now, Davie, I'm gonna ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully, okay?" He gulped and nodded, trying unsuccessfully not to think about how awkward all this was.

"Okay . . . now, how long have you been fantasizing about me?"

"Since, uh . . . since about 10th grade, when we met."

"Oh? And what attracted you to me?"

"You . . . you were the hottest girl in the class. You filled out early, and you wore those short skirts that you just barely got away with. And then one day when you dropped something, and I was able to see right down your shirt . . ."

"Good boy. So you've been attracted to me all these years? How cute."

"Mm . . . y-yes. Listen, you're not gonna tell anyone abou-"

"Shut up, Dave. I'm asking the questions. Now . . . how often do you jerk off?"

"Jesus, I . . . I don't know. Janine, can I stop? This is humiliating . . ."

"That's the point, and I know you like it. Now answer the question, or you'll never have the pleasure of performing for me again, and I'll tell everyone about this little adventure over dinner tonight."

"I . . . okay, okay. Once, maybe twice a day, okay? Satisfied?"

"Not quite yet, boy." Her voice was getting low and husky. She may have been pleasuring herself as well, but he was too ashamed to open his eyes and look. "Now, how often do you fantasize about me, personally?"

"Mmmm . . . I . . . I can't . . ."

"ANSWER!"

"Every time, okay! I think about you almost every time I jerk off." A moan from Janine this time, but he still didn't dare look.

"Now, Dave, I want you to tell me . . . what do you like to think about me doing when you jerk off?"

"There are a few things . . . I imagine you playing with yourself, just moaning and arching your back and grabbing the sheets . . . I imagine you in a schoolgirl outfit sucking me off . . . I imagine you grabbing my head and making me eat you out . . . I imagine tit-fucking you and . . . mmmm . . ." He felt feminine fingers twisting in his hair, and then her voice, soft and husky, right in his ear: "do you imagine me doing the things in this magazine? All this silly dominatrix stuff?" He gulped, nodded. "Y-yes. All the time. I read the stories in there, and I look at the pictures, and I imagine it's you . . ."

"Ah, very good. Now, you're going to come for me, and it's gonna be good, and you're gonna be nice and loud for me, aren't you Davey?"

"Y-yes..."

"Call me Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. You may come now."

And he did, loudly, tremblingly, desperately so, moaning into the soft, feminine mouth that he suddenly found on his own. Their tongues wrestled one another as he twitched in her arms, and only when it was over did he finally open his eyes to gaze adoringly at his new Mistress.