Tags:
Male/Female sex
Homewrecking
Mutual masturbation
Female dominant
“You’ll have to drive the babysitter home,” came my wife’s voice over the car speaker.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Remember Audrey?”
“That mousy girl? We haven’t used her in years.”
“Four, and she was eighteen then, she’s changed a little since. She said something about her name being, absence now? Anyway, Jack already picked up little Jason, so just drive her home.”
“Ok, sure.”
Babysitting for our eldest son’s newborn was a chore, especially when Jen and I were both busy. We had to have a babysitter to babysit for the babysitters. And now, I had to drive her home. What a tedious trip that would be, when he was already tired from work.
To say Audrey had changed ‘a little’ was a huge understatement.
Gone was the shy, ratty-haired, pimple-faced, little girl I had once known. In her place, was one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. Her platinum blond hair was streaked with a deep, royal, purple. Her dress looked like it had come from a runway in Milan, and so did she. Perfect C-cup breasts, legs for days. The most striking thing though, was her confidence. She just exuded it. And her crystal blue eyes? They were as deep as a lagoon, and when I caught them directly, I could barely look away. She was taller than my wife, I’d say Audrey was 5’10. I still towered over her at my 6”3” but, somehow, she seemed… larger than life.
“Hi Audrey, long time no see.”
“Please, it’s Absinthe now.”
Her voice had changed, there was a definite French accent to it now. I hated to think of women, other than my wife, as sexy. But Absinthe? There was no denying it.
“Where have you been all these years?” I asked.
“I went to university, in France. But really, I went all over Europe. That’s the thing about Europe. Much to see, many to do.”
I figured even her grammar had gotten a little mixed up between the languages; so, I didn’t correct her.
As I headed towards the car, Absinthe, following close behind, I felt compelled somehow to open the Prius’s door for her. Nothing wrong with that, but I hadn’t done it for anyone but my wife, or my kids, in years.
“Merci,” she said, her voice even lower, sultrier, than before. I could imagine her as a phone sex operator. In fact, I already was. I composed myself, putting it as far out of my mind as I could.
We rode in silence for the first block, before I felt compelled to make small talk.
“How was Europe?”
“Wonderful. Everyone is so sex positive.”
I decided not to pursue that one. She had other plans.
“People talk about sex freely, openly, honestly.”
“That’s… good.” I managed to choke out.
“There are topless newscasters, there’s late night porn on free TV.”
I had no idea how to respond.
“And masturbation?” she said, drawing the word out, emphasizing it. “People think nothing of a woman masturbating in public. You can ride the subway and see a woman slide her hand into her pants, just like this.”
She did it! She slid her hand into her pants, beneath her panties, and began playing with her pussy! She let out a low, soft moan. I knew I should stop her. I knew this was inappropriate. But I couldn’t stop her. Why couldn’t I stop her?
“We’re here,” she said, between whimpers. I had lost track of where we were, and almost missed her driveway. It was a long winding one, and it led to what I could only describe as a mansion. Not even a low-end mansion, a massive, classic, house that made the rest of the street look shabby. I never got up this way, precisely because it was the high-end neighborhood. Before today, I’d never even know this place existed.
“Well, we’re here.” I was able to compose myself to say.
“Do you mind if I finish? Getting interrupted is just awful, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Uhhh… yes.”
“I’m sure when you jerk off, you want to finish.”
“Well, yes.”
“Ohhhhh, merci, mmmmm.” She was panting a little, and the pleasure was all over her face.
“Playing with yourself is so wonderful, wouldn’t you agree?”
I managed a weak nod, trying to keep from looking at her.
“Aww, don’t be shy, you can watch.”
I knew I shouldn’t. I also knew, it was all I could think about at that moment. I turned, and stared, openly and completely, as she dug her fingers into her pussy.
“Ohhh,” she moaned, “It feels so good. Masturbation feels so good, don’t you agree?”
I nodded blankly.
“The feeling,” she continued, “even the smell is lovely. Don’t you agree?”
I nodded dumbly.
“Why don’t you join me?” she asked, more seductively than ever.
I offered the only excuse I could. “I’m… I’m married.”
“And?”
“I… can’t.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s not cheating, it’s just jerking off. I bet you jerk off, plenty.”
“But…” I trailed off.
“Come on. Just unzip and slide your underwear down. I can tell you’re uncomfortable already, those pants are as tight as my cunt.”
They were, my cock was so hard already, it was straining against my clothes.
“Just unzip, it will reduce the pressure. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
I just couldn’t help it; my cock was becoming painful. I unfastened my seat belt and, immediately yanked my zipper down.
“There,” she said, “doesn’t that feel batter?”
It did, but it didn’t stop my cock from getting even harder, making my underwear too tight as well.
“Oh no,” she said, with a hint of disapproval. “You need to pull those briefs down too.”
There was a little voice in the back of my head screaming “No!” Yet somehow, I couldn’t listen to it. I pulled my underwear down and my cock sprang to attention. I swear, it seemed harder than it had since I was in college, harder than it was even with my wife.
“Nice,” she said, “But jerking bare is so unsatisfying.”
With her free hand, she reached into her fashionable, leather, purse, and produced a small bottle of Astroglide.
“Which hand is your favorite?”
I reached out my right hand, and the little voice seemed to recede into the background. She squirted a generous dollop of lube into my palm.
“There, doesn’t that feel better.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Absinthe,” she said, her voice growing slightly firmer.
“Yes, Absinthe,” I replied, with no hesitation.
“Very good. You should be rewarded.”
The thought of a reward from her sent a shiver down my spine.
“Now. Grab. That. Dick.”
The little voice gave one last, feeble, cry then vanished. I eagerly grabbed my rock, hard, cock. Before I could begin, she spoke.
“No stroking, not yet. Just hold it.”
I did as I was told.
“Even just holding it feels warm, soft, and wonderful. Doesn’t that feel better?”
I nodded vacantly.
“Say it.”
“It feels better.”
She raised an eyebrow expectantly.
“It feels better, Absinthe.”
“Good. Now start stroking, nice and slow. Wouldn’t want this to end too soon, now would we?”
“No, Absinthe.”
“Good.”
I started stroking, I wasn’t sure how fast she wanted, and I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I moved up and down, almost glacially slowly.
“Good.” Each time she said that, a stronger, and more pleasurable tingle rocked my entire body, be especially my rock, hard, cock.
“A little faster,” she said with a coy smile.
I obeyed, instantly.
“Good. Doesn’t that feel better?”
“Yes, Absinthe.”
“And, as you stroke, as the pleasure build and builds, I need you thinking about me.”
That was easy.
“Faster. Think of me. Only me. And the pleasure of your cock. Harder.”
I picked up the pace, squeezing harder. It felt so good, it was better than I could ever remember masturbating feeling. I felt dazed, almost overwhelmed.
“That’s good, you’re doing very good. A little harder; a little faster. Doesn’t that feel better?”
“Yes, Absinthe.”
“Call me, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.” It felt so good, so right somehow, to say it.
“Good boy.”
Another thrill ran across me, dwarfing all the ones that had come before.
“You love it,” she said, and she was right. Everything about her seemed right.
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Stroking for Mistress Absinthe feels good. Faster. Stroking for Mistress Absinthe feels right. Harder. Stroking for Mistress Absinthe feels natural. It’s what you want to do. Need to do. Crave to do.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Good boy. Faster.”
I went faster.
“Harder.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Stroking for your Mistress is the best feeling you’ve ever had.”
It was true. “Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“I bet you want to cum. I bet you want to shoot that load, to explode with pleasure.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Not yet. Not without Mistress’s permission.”
I knew then and there, that I’d never be able to cum without her allowing it.
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Keep stroking. Keep thinking about your Mistress, only your Mistress, nothing but your Mistress.”
I was panting now; it was hard to even reply.
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“You want to cum more than anything.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Tell your mistress, what would you give to cum right now?”
“Anything,” I gasped out.
“Good boy. You know it’s true, you know you can’t cum without Mistress Absinthe. You can’t cum ever without Mistress’s permission. Not jerking off. Not having sex. Never again.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“You will obey your Mistress, at all times.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Your mind is Mistress’s plaything. You want nothing more than to be your Mistress’s good boy. And you are my good boy, and you will always be my good boy.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Cumming now will bind you. Cumming now will seal your fate. Cumming now will make you Mistress’s forever. Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe,” I said, with more conviction than I had ever mustered.
“Obeying your Mistress feel good.”
It did; it did so much.
“You want to feel this good forever.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“And you want other people to feel this good too.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“And you will help Mistress make that happen. Your friends, your neighbors, and especially your wife, you will help Mistress make them feel this good.”
The thought thrilled me.
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“Good boy. Stroke a little faster.”
I felt like I was going to burst. Yet, the idea of disobeying, the idea of disappointing my Mistress, was too much to bear.
“Squeeze, squeeze that cock tight and good. Let the pleasure build. Your mind is melting.”
“Yes, Mistress Absinthe.”
“No more, need to talk, just listen. Your mind is mine. Your body is mine. Your spirit is mine. Nothing matters more than pleasing Mistress Jasmine. Let the pleasure build.”
Somehow it was building, beyond anything I had ever experienced. Nothing eve came close.
“Stroke that cock. That cock that Mistress Jasmine owns. Your Mistress, and the pleasure she brings you, is your everything. Faster.”
I was stroking faster than ever, faster than normal, faster than ever. And it felt so good.
“It’s almost time, almost time for your complete, ultimate, total, surrender. And you are looking forward to it. More than anything in your life. Serving Mistress Absinthe is your life now. Nothing else matters.”
I was breathing heavily, sweating slightly, and hoping so much that she’d let me cum.
“And my good boy, your reward is almost here. You must obey. You must submit. You must serve.”
It was true; it was so true.
“Very well, my good boy.” She took the hand that had never left her pussy, and lifted it toward me. The smell intoxicated me even more. She reached out and gently, just barely, brushed my cheek with her finger.
“Cum,” she whispered.
That was all it took. My cock spasmed then, it happened. It is almost impossible to describe the feeling. My mind was utterly overwhelmed by two things: pleasure, and utter, total, obedience. Cum erupted from me like a tidal wave, and it didn’t stop. Cum just kept pumping. A tiny part of my brain was shocked at how much there was. The rest was utterly overwhelmed.
“Good boy,” she said once more, causing another spurt of cum.
“You’ve done very well, Victor,” she said with such admiration it sent my heart fluttering.
“Now, clean yourself up, and go home. Tomorrow, we start taking over the neighborhood.”
I couldn’t wait…
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