Who’s the Sub?

I agreed to meet you at the bar.  I told you I’d be the one in the black tights with the growling pussy.  You laughed and said I should be easy to find.

I’ll admit, my approach was less than subtle.  But the hunger was rising like a burning tide inside me.  Demanding release, needing touch.  There was no way I could hide it so I figured the safest bet was a full-frontal assault.

We met and relaxed over beer and conversation.  I caught my gaze as it locked on the outline of your nipples through your t-shirt.  Mmm…my mouth tingled at the thought of their hard outline between my lips.  I momentarily lost track of what you were saying.  Mesmerized by the fantasy reel playing in my head, I watched your lips move and picture that motion on my swollen clit.

We made casual conversation while I killed you in a game of darts.  That’s it, you announced with a smile, the handicap is over.  Next time, we both play straight – no slop.  I grinned back, the competitive spirit inside me alight and reveling in a heady rush.  Just one of many heady moments to come.

We headed out, my stomach rumbling with hunger that nearly matched that of my craven pussy.  In the parking lot, your mouth found mine, your fingers making a beeline for the V between my legs.  I opened my thighs and welcomed your touch, stopping myself just shy of grinding into your palm – there were people on the sidewalk behind me.  We discussed stopping for something to eat on the way to my place.  We made it a only a few blocks from the bar, when I texted you.

Forget the food.  Take me home and fuck me.

Your response:  🙂

I felt myself flirting with a dangerous edge.  My hunger had an unbidden quality that worried me.  I didn’t know you well enough – didn’t know if you would receive the full brunt of that danger well.  I fought for control even as my hands found their way into my pants. There were no panties to navigate, just the full lips of my pussy, already swelling and moist.  The beast had arisen…

We arrived at my place.  I continued to struggle for control of the animal urges while I poured a drink and flipped on a CD. But you read my signals.  You knew what I needed.  You wasted no time, stripping off my blouse and freeing my breasts to your touch.  You kissed and sucked them, twisted and pulled them in that way that makes me exhale in a slow hiss.  You squeezed them tight, trapping blood in my nipples and increasing the sensitivity.  I wrapped my leg around you, peeling off your shirt so my hands could touch your skin.  You leaned me back over the couch, then changed direction, pulling me by my nipples to the other side of the sofa.

You waited for me to remove your pants and laughed when I lacked the initiative.  I made an embarrassed mental note: next time, examine the belt – so I can rip it off with accuracy and not make a fumbling mess of it.

Take me to the bedroom I asked you.  I needed to have room to move, this passion could not handle the confines of the sofa.  You stood and grasped my taut nipples in your fingers, pulling me like a dog on a leash.  I obediently followed my master’s footsteps.

In the bedroom, I felt the swell of passion rise inside me like turbulent seas sluicing up in a punchbowl.  I pushed you down on the bed and my lips found your cock.  I licked the salty fluid from your tip, savoring the flavor of your desire.  I want you to cum on my tits I said breathlessly as my mouth worked its magic and your cock grew full and hard.  I was drunk on the power my mouth had over your body, seduced by the way you moaned and worked your hips beneath my face.  I went too far.

But you can’t cum until I say so.

Who is in control here?  The velvet softness of your voice belied the steel beneath.  I felt your hand clench into a fist at the back of my head.  You pulled me up, denying me the feast of your cock, pulling my face back up to yours. I am the Dom here you said with a silky growl.  You brushed your lips across mine, tightening your fist in my hair and giving me a little shake.  Who’s the sub?  You pulled me close, your mouth closing over mine in a kiss that swept over me like an inferno. I am, I sighed against your lips.  My mind fought for control, part of me wanting to push that boundary further, craving the knowledge of your dominance over me.  The other part of me wanted to please, wanted to retreat from the animal within.  That part won.

You pushed me back down, thrusting my face down onto your cock and pumping into my throat with a few deep thrusts to drive your point home.  I accepted you, accepted my place, yielding to your touch and giving up my pussy to you like an offering on an altar.

Our bodies engaged in an erotic performance; a dance of sensation punctuated by sighs and groans, grunts and strangled sounds, the deafening clap of your hands reddening my ass as a reminder.  In the end you kept the beast in its cage, you fed the hunger and ignited a new craving.

I have touched myself countless times since then – eyes closed, lips parted as my body thrusts and strains for release all the while repeating your words:

Who’s the sub here?

I am…for now.




Filed under Erotica

10 responses to “Who’s the Sub?

  1. Uh- huh – all of your tumbling, rumbling pit of desire being fanned and enflamed by an unexpected fire master. You just gotta love when that happens. You wrote this beautifully and it brought Sinner to my mind. xo, Jayne

  2. Oh, mmm, just delicious *fanning herself*

  3. augustmacgregor

    This made me weak, and I’m glad I’m sitting down to read this. The build-up in the bar (fun that you killed him in darts!), the undressing, the enjoying his cock, the wish for him to come on your breasts, the face fucking, the dance, and the potential of that last line. Whew!

  4. Loved every bit of this. Mouth watering sexual sensual delight!

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