Care to Turn in Early with Me? Pt. 02

Author's Foreword: This is the continuation of a teaser story between Jeanette, an early fifty-something, and the previously unnamed late thirty-something narrator, here identified as Ryan. I felt the first part was a fun set-up between two people that had known each other for twenty years but hadn't explored a possible attraction. After re-reading it, I had an inspiration to take it in a fun direction but was at a loss as to where to go once I was off and running. Kynhalis was crucial in helping me take the idea and shape it into a single scene story with a beginning, middle, and an especially important end. They also did a terrific job of polishing, as usual. Thanks also go out to 2soon2no for some early draft corrections and quality feedback as well.

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I stepped into the kitchen where I could look at the note from Jeanette without being disturbed. It read:

1102 Sunset Terrace Drive. The door will be open. Lock it behind you, find me upstairs, and no matter what I say...don't take no for an answer!

I stood in shock for probably a ten count. I re-read it. Don't take no for an answer. I re-read it again. Again and again, it kept reading the same: Come take me, and in any way that you want.

My heart raced. I'm sure my face was flushed. I felt overwhelmed. Yes, I wanted her physically and with an instinctive and primal need, but she was offering much more. I'm not sure I'd ever felt the need to dominate another person, but now that the opportunity was here, the thought of it, and with this woman, in particular, excited me even more.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, put the note back in my pocket, and excused myself from the remaining partygoers. Once in my car, I put her address into my phone and started toward her place. The disembodied voice of the mapping app told me that I'd have 19 minutes to get my head together with a plan before I walked through her door.

What was she saying with her, "Don't take no for an answer" comment? Did she want a struggle? Was this an invasion or rape fantasy? Was I walking into a situation where she would feign surprise or fear or rage at the onset? All of these questions made me uncomfortable immediately as the thoughts surfaced. We didn't know each other well enough to start there. I pushed the concerns down, deciding that if things started to go in one of these directions, I'd decide in the moment to sit and talk it out with her or walk away.

The drive was cooperating with me: traffic was light, and the path was straight and relatively event-free. I continued to process what I might encounter.

The other likely direction seemed to be walking in on an aware and amorous partner willing to consent in advance to things she might not have tried or be entirely comfortable with. How should I prepare if this was what I was about to walk in on? What should I do? What would she do? How would I know her consent was still in place if she started resisting or saying, "No?" Was I really that sure that her note was giving consent in the first place? I let my mind wander for a few seconds picturing different sexual acts and their sights, sounds, and even smells before I shut it down again.

I checked the map. A few more turns and I'd be there. I knew I needed the barest and simplest of plans. What were the few things to burn into my brain? First, I needed to know if she was consenting. The trick would be doing it without ruining the moment. The second was that we both needed to know when to shut it down. And third, if we made it to the end, we would need time together to connect, cool down, and recover. As I pulled into her empty driveway, I repeated my plan: (1) confirm consent, (2) know when to stop, and (3) care for her afterward. I pushed the rest out of my mind as I resolved to enjoy what came and handle whatever happened as it happened.

The house and lawn were dark, save the light coming from one window on the second floor on the left side of the house -- the side opposite the driveway. I paused as I reached the front door and took a breath to release the tension. I also forced myself to smile, both of these actions working to help me relax and realize that this should be fun. It's why I was here, wasn't it? Jeanette had been my fantasy girl for as long as I had been jerking off and here I was at her house for a tryst by her invitation. The door opened with a soft click at my touch, an echoing "beep beep" of the alarm system announcing my arrival.

I closed and locked the door behind me, took my coat off, and left it on the coat rack in the foyer. Looking down, I could see the faint outline of a few pairs of white shoes near the door. I slipped my shoes off in consideration of what I felt might be the house rules.

The glow of light coming from upstairs called to me like a siren song. I started up the stairs slowly, walking on my toes and the balls of my feet to make as little noise as possible. The carpeted stairs, for their part, didn't creak or groan. I could hear no sound, and the lighting didn't flicker or shift from motion as I reached the top of the stairs. I was in a hallway running the length of the house, the right leading to darkness and the left ending in an illuminated bedroom with an opened door. I was struck with a complete non-sequitur: Obvious exits are NORTH, SOUTH, and DENNIS. I turned left and strode with a purpose into her room, but when I arrived in the doorway, I found the room unoccupied.

My eyes started on the bed, but she wasn't there. I scanned the room, but nothing. I wasn't absorbing the details of the room or who she was or what her life had been like. I was here for her, and my focus was narrowing. I heard a sound to my left where I saw another open door. A bathroom. I took a few steps and leaned against the doorframe. She was brushing out her hair, and when she saw me in the mirror, she smiled, put down the brush, and turned toward me.

What I saw stiffened me fully in two seconds. She wore the same black heels and stockings that I had seen earlier, but the dress was gone. Instead, there was a garter belt, a lacy black demi bra, and a sheer long-sleeved and mid-thigh cover-up, but it wasn't covering much up. She let it hang open for me to see her massive tits, deep cleavage, the soft curve of her belly, the trimmed thatch of her landing strip pubes, and her creamy and completely unblemished alabaster skin.

Once I had soaked in the body I hadn't yet seen tonight, our eyes locked briefly. I know I was smiling. She was, too. But a split second later, she stopped smiling. Her eyes had dropped to my crotch, and she whispered, "My God, Ryan." My dick was super hard and straining the front of the rather thin fabric of the dress pants I had on. I covered the two steps between us in a heartbeat, and we clinched together instinctively and passionately. Our mouths opened to each other, and there was no gentle teasing or feeling out the other intentions. My tongue probed her mouth deeply. Her hand on the back of my head forced me into her even deeper. Then, she counterattacked, and I played with and caressed her tongue as it invaded my mouth with force and desire. I pushed my cock into her body, and she ground her clit up and down on my hardness.

Had she not written her note, I probably would have just ripped the front of her bra open, put her on the countertop, and fucked her missionary until I unloaded my balls deep into her. But she had written that note, so I channeled the aggression and desire welling up in me toward the first of my three steps: confirm consent.

Suddenly and forcefully, I pulled my mouth from hers, put my hand around her throat, and spun slightly to pin her against the bathroom wall. I squeezed slightly. It was only enough to hold her in place and signal intent, not enough to restrict air or blood flow significantly. Her eyes were wide. Her hands were squeezing my wrists. After 3 seconds, when she hadn't said anything, I said with force so there'd be no confusion that this was a decision point for her, "Give me your word."

Her eyes had gotten glassy. I was feeling sick in my stomach. Had I completely misunderstood her intent? Was I wrong thing this? It felt like an eternity waiting for her to respond. She looked close to tears. Say something, Jeanette! If you've ever done this or read about this, or even just thought about this, you must have a word. You must know what this means! I can't do anything if you don't respond. I can't have any power if you don't give it to me.

She closed her eyes tight, a single tear falling from the outside of each eye as she did so.

"Goldfish," she whispered.

That one word changed everything in me. The weight of the situation lifted from my shoulders and I felt strengthened by her trust. I knew that I carried a new responsibility from that trust, but it didn't feel like a burden. I felt like I knew what to do now. I felt strong. I felt empowered. I felt ten feet tall.

I released my grip on her throat and brushed the tears away from each side of her face. I took a step back from her, crossed my arms, and tried for a serious and stern expression, replete with knitted eyebrows. She studied me as she massaged her throat with a hand.

"Jeanette, we were having such an enjoyable time flirting with each other, and then you went and ruined our little dance by just up and leaving."

"What? No, I didn't mean..."

I held my hand up, and she stopped immediately. I looked down at the countertop and picked up the hairbrush she had been using when I walked in. It had a nice flat side that I could put to use.

"Jeanette, I think you need to learn a lesson tonight. You can't tease your man and leave him unsatisfied."

I walked out of the bathroom and toward the bed. After placing the brush on the nightstand, I sat on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom about halfway between the headboard and footboard. I sat upright, placed my hands on my thighs, and waited. She walked slowly from the bathroom, turning out that room's lights as she did so. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away. I couldn't tell if she was acting coquettish or if the power I felt surging through me was affecting her.

When she paused in the doorway, I said, "Come now, Jeanette, you know you've been a bad girl. Now, come be a big girl and accept your punishment." I patted my thighs and continued, "Remove that cover-up and come lay face down here across my lap.

"Yes, sir," she squeaked out. I had never seen her like this, so quiet and meek. She was always the life of the party and the center of lively conversations. Gone was the confidence she had shown at my sister's earlier tonight. In her place was a nervous little girl unsure of what was to come. I didn't relish that nervousness and fear in her for its own sake, but I did like seeing the sign that she was off-kilter and outside of her comfort zone.

She pushed the top of her coverup off her shoulders and dropped her arms down to her sides, letting the sheer fabric fall in a puddle at her feet. She took small and slow steps toward me. I waited patiently as she positioned herself face down across my lap. She settled in facing the headboard on her elbows with her hands together as if in prayer. She stared straight ahead, so all I could see was her long raven locks draped halfway down her back. Her legs were held tightly together, and her stocking-covered toes pointed toward the footboard. I looked closely at her full and rounded bottom and noticed the underside to be fully goose-pimpled. I wanted to caress her ass and revel in the sensation of her textured flesh, but she needed something else, and my role required me to take a different tack than that of my desires.

THWACK! I brought my hand down hard on her ass, aiming for the center of her curvaceous backside. She yelped. I couldn't be sure why, but I guessed it was from the surprise of that first slap and the pain. I intended it to hurt. My hand stung from the impact, so I knew it hadn't felt like a love tap to her. I popped her butt another three times with an unhurried cadence in the same spot with solid force each time, though not quite as hard as the first. The ripples her ass made with each blow started to cause a stirring in my loins. Now, her ass was beginning to redden. Jeanette was breathing heavier now, and her body was writhing slowly and subtly. She hadn't made a sound since that first slap. As I pulled my hand back to start another batch of spanks, I realized that my hand had been lingering on her ass, caressing it even.

SLAP! On her right side. SMACK! On her left. POP. POW. Another alternating pair to the top of her derrière this time. WHAP! An attention-getter down the middle.

"Unnngggh!" she moaned with that one.

I continued working her entire ass with my slapping hand for probably 10 minutes. My hand had started to hurt after 2 minutes, so I paced myself, alternating from slapping to caressing to groping to probing. I had avoided fully penetrating her ass or pussy, but my fingers were moist from her wetness, and the room smelled like the musk of her pussy. There was no doubt that she was turned on and getting more so with every passing minute of my attention on her.

Her entire bottom was now red from stem to stern and from larboard to starboard. For her part, she had never really stopped moving, constantly shifting and grinding against me and ensuring my cock stayed stiff under the pressure of her body. She was no longer propped up on her elbows, choosing instead to lay flat against the bed with her arms tucked under her. Her head was turned to the side, and I could see her closed eyes wince with each strike. Tears had been a constant after the first dozen blows, but nothing in her movements or demeanor had given me the impression that I needed to check in with her yet. And then she opened her mouth.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, stop." She screwed her eyes together tighter. "This wasn't what I wanted. It hurts and..." she was crying now. "...and I think you should leave now," she barely managed to croak out in between stifled sobs.

Her voice was so filled with emotion, I thought about shutting it down completely, but the thought hit me to do a simple check-in with her. I opened my mouth to do just that when I felt her move against me. She had slowly shifted her position over the last few minutes, and now one of her breasts was mashed against my stiff member. She was rubbing herself into my cock. It was subtle, but it seemed like a clear signal to me. It's possible she had been doing it for a while, but I was just now registering it if she had. That brought my mind back to keeping control of both her and the scenario. I decided the impact play chapter was done. It was time to move us to the beginning of Jeanette's throat training.

Because my spanking hand was still numb, I used my left hand to grab her by the hair and pull her head up toward the ceiling.

"Pull my cock out, Jeanette."

"No!"

"Do it now, Jeanette, or I won't continue being so nice to you."

She had pushed herself up on her hands to relieve the pressure of her hair being pulled. I wasn't gentle. She slid off the bed and knelt in front of me. I kept hold of her hair but allowed her the freedom to move and look at what she was doing.

Her hands were shaking as she unzipped my pants and unbuckled my belt. At this point, she hesitated and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She wouldn't look at me. Speaking to my crotch, she managed a fairly normal, "I don't want to do this."

I spoke without a moment's hesitation and didn't feel a flicker of doubt or remorse as I said, "But you are going to do this. And you're going to do it to the best of your ability. Consider it more of your richly deserved punishment."

I stood up, my cock just inches from her face. She pulled my pants down to my ankles. As my cock sprang free, it bounded straight up to slap into my stomach, before falling with a thud right onto her face. Her mouth was shut tight. I grabbed my engorged member and whipped it right against her cheek, THWACK! Her mouth stayed closed. Again and again, I whipped her face with my cock, alternating cheeks as I did so.

"Jeanette, it's time. Open your mouth to me. It's time for you to show me what that sweet throat feels like around my cock."

She gave the appearance of resigned acquiescence, sighing before opening her mouth and managing to get about half of my eight inches into her before a quiet gag kicked in. It felt much better than it looked. Her mouth was red hot and as wet as a waterfall. When she pulled her mouth off of me, gossamer strands of saliva still connected her mouth to my member. She came back for more without prompting, this time going deeper and stimulating the underside of my dick with her tongue before gagging, this time with an audible retching sound. She pulled off to catch her breath briefly and then went back for more. This time, she won the battle, managing my entire length down her throat for a five-count before gagging and pulling off for a coughing fit.

I was impressed with her skill, but I felt it was time to test her limits. I grabbed a hunk of her hair in each hand to use as handles that I could use to fuck her mouth more easily. She looked up at me with that same look when she came out of the bathroom. What is about to happen to me? I wondered if my expression made my thoughts as obvious: I'm going to use your throat for my pleasure, girl.

"Cross your arms behind your back, Jeanette." She complied. I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the sensations of skull fucking her until I came, but my protective nature kicked in. I needed to be alert and attuned to her signals so I watched her closely, both enjoying the sights she presented and remaining attentive to any nonverbal cues that might indicate if she was close or beyond her limit. She couldn't speak her safe word with my dickhead lodged in her stomach.

I pulled her head onto my cock until I felt some resistance after half my length was hidden. This was my reference for the easy level. I stayed stationary while I bobbed her head on and off my engorged member. She kept her arms crossed behind her back while allowing herself to be used as a cocksleeve. After a minute or so, I released her hair and let her have some air. She backed off me and coughed.

I lifted my prick straight up toward the ceiling so I could relish the look in her eyes as I dropped my sizable hanging balls into her mouth. I massaged my cockhead gently with one hand as I used the other to find the back of her head and force her mouth around as much of my nutsack as I could. I released my cock and let it fall with a THUD onto her face and right between her eyes. She didn't flinch, instead just eyeing me defiantly and tonguing every part of my balls gently while I ground her forcefully into me. She pulled back from me suddenly, gasping for air again.

After wiping the drool from her chin, I used the hand still on the back of her head to force her onto my rod again. She bottomed out three-quarters of the way down, but I kept pulling her onto me and pushing my cock into her further. Her mouth was wide open instead of latched around my cock. Her eyes were closed; her nose was wrinkled. She was trying. I felt a pop on my cock as her throat relaxed around me and my length was fully sheathed again. She gagged, but I held her in place. Her nose was buried in my pubes, and a tear rolled down from the outer edge of each eye again.

I pulled her off for a few seconds so she could breathe and recover before I forced her to throat my length again. This time I held her down on me a little longer. The next time, I thrust and ground my cock into her throat a little bit. The next time a bit more.

After about ten rounds of this, she wasn't gagging on me anymore, but her breathing was heavy. She was straining. Her mascara was completely ruined, and there were streaks down the sides of her face from the tears her deepthroating brought. She looked like a raccoon. Her whole face and body were covered with sweat, and her hair was stuck to her skin in spots from the sweat.