Fantasy of Blowing Forbidden Cock

She longs to take control of him... of his body. Likes the idea of making him powerless to her desire. Wants to do things to him... please him, while fully in charge.

He's taller than her. Much stronger. So she wouldn't be able to achieve this through brute force. It wouldn't be possible for her, to say... press him up against a wall... or push him down over furniture. Meanwhile with little effort on his part, he could pin her (if only he would) or manoeuvre her in any way he pleased. So in her imagination, the way she sees it happening is with his agreement to let her do her bidding... also, hell why not, some playful hand-restraints.

To be clear. She doesn't want to take advantage of him. Or do anything without consent. She just... wants to dominate him a little. Tame the beast, who in his real life, is typically the one to take control.

Part of the issue here, is he doesn't belong to her. He is not hers to take. They are "friends". She is "married". But lately, when she lays down to sleep at night, he keeps filling her mind's eye. And she's overcome with a desperate longing to touch him.

She imagines taking him to a hotel. Leading him to a prepared room and telling him to let her take the lead.

After swiping the room key, she'd take him in. Then push him up against the door and press her body against his... pausing to feel his breath, his warmth. Without warning, she'd slip a hand down over his pants and stroke his off limits cock.

Feeling it twitch against his briefs, as it started to engorge with blood, and desire... she'd lead him to the bed and push him down. Then climb on top of him and pin his arms back. One at a time, she'd tie them to the bedposts with a waiting rope.

She'd take her time exploring him. Stroke his face gently with the tips of her fingers... feel his facial hair with the back of her hand. Maybe slip one finger into his mouth, for him to suck. She thinks she might like that. The feel of his soft wet tongue pressed against her index, or middle finger. Possibly both.

She'd lower her face to his and brush her cheek against his beard... then bring her lips right above his, and hover there. She'd wait... wanting to savour the moment. To be fully present when her lips met his. She knows (don't ask how) that they'd be soft. And that when his unpredictable tongue met hers... it too would be soft.

She'd take this part slowly. Feel not only the soft, wet, meeting of their mouths, but also the way that connecting with him would send a ripple of excitement through her. Maybe even make her a little wet some place else.

Curious, she'd slip her hand down again. To feel his cock through his pants. See if it was hard. Exactly how hard.

There's little she likes more, than the feeling of a hard cock in her hand. The more firmness she meets, the more excited she becomes. And the feeling of him... his cock in particular, would erupt in her all kinds of desire. Worth noting, she'd be very tempted to undo his pants at this point. But would hold off.

Instead, she'd pull up his shirt. Take in his chest. A chest she longs to lay against. Longs to be comforted with. Longs to lean on, while being read to. A chest that houses his (in her humble opinion) untended heart. She'd kiss that chest above his heart.

Then lick, suck, and gently nibble a nipple or two.

If she wasn't so turned on, she could lay there on that chest for a long time. But her breath would have quickened a little, her blood pumping harder, desire mounting. And she'd want to get back to feeling just. How. Hard. He was.

So she'd make her way down to his crotch. Rub her cheek against the firm member that strained against his pants. She'd stroke it with her lips. Her tongue.

Unable to wait any longer, she'd undo his pants and pull them down. Just the pants, leaving his briefs on a little longer.

Again she'd move her mouth to his cock. Her lips would find the outline of the head, while her hand cupped his balls, giving them a firm squeeze. She'd savour this moment too. Feeling his desire to be set free. But she'd resist it a minute longer... and continue to stroke him through his briefs with her hand, lips and warm, wet tongue.

She suspects at this point, she'd start to feel his precum soaking through his briefs- making them moist, around the tip of his cock.

Unable to take the border of fabric any longer, she'd pull the waistband away, and let just the head of his dick spring out.

Before freeing him completely, she'd run the tip of his head against her upper lip—smear his sticky, slippery, precum all over her closed mouth. Then, slowly, open her lips... to lick and taste his sweetness.

Her tongue would circle around the head of his cock, slowly. Gently. Eagerly.

It would be nice if he'd moan a little. Let her know how much he liked it. And with that, she'd pull his briefs off all the way.

She'd be tempted to put all of him in her mouth now. But first, she'd want to savour the sight. Take in the glorious image of his hard, free, erect cock. She'd smile at that sight. Memorize it. Then she'd use a hand to guide it back to her mouth, while her other hand cupped his balls again.

Carful now, not to let her teeth make any contact, she'd get to work. Sucking his perfectly, engorged, forbidden cock.

Listening to his breath, his moans, and his movements, she would tease, please, and claim that cock. Alternately working the tip for a bit, then taking the full shaft into her eager mouth.

Moving faster.

Taking it deeper.

Sucking it harder.

Engulfing it.

Consuming it.

She'd want to feel it throb, pulse, and ache for her. Because for sometime, she'd come to believe that right or wrong, he, and it, did belong to her. And she to him.

She'd learned (don't ask how) that he needed to move to come, needed control over the building sensation to get him all the way there. So when she thought he might be getting close, might be ready for the next part, she'd pause...

And untie his hands.

She'd let him choose the next position, and invite him to fuck her mouth, himself.

Hard.

Fast.

He'd thrust into her waiting mouth. Feeling the pressure build... and build... until he finally exploded. Waives of pleasure and release flowing through him, as he filled her mouth and throat with cum.

She'd wait for the final pulse. Then swallow.

Knowing he'd be tender now, before letting him out of her mouth she'd delicately circle his cock one more time with her tongue. A gentle farewell. To all that hardness. All that desire. All that pent up fantasy.

It would be a purging, that would no doubt make way for other fantasies. Other things she wanted to do to him. With him.

And if she admitted it, that she wished he would do to her.