For the Weekend

(Author's Note: I recently started writing this story for my husband Rich—a blend of his fantasies and mine. I will leave it to the reader to decide whose fantasies are whose.

When he travels on business, I send a chapter along with him to read while he is away. We talk about it when he calls in—what he likes about it and where we would like the story to go next. The few chapters I have sent so far have led to some great phone sex!

I didn't think the story was worth sharing, but while discussing the last chapter he insisted I put it on Literotica for others to enjoy. If you do like it, please let me know and I'll continue to share. If you don't, well, I'll keep writing, but will not bore the public with the following chapters...

I have rewritten some passages to make the story a little more understandable for those who Rich and I have not shared our lives and fantasies with yet. Otherwise, the chapters are pretty much as I send along with him.)

Chapter 1--A meeting

You have known of my submissive fantasies since we got married, but we never took it any farther than sharing stories during sex. However, recently you have advanced the idea of making my fantasy a reality (and in the process fulfilling one of yours). I told you I was willing, but you would need to arrange it—I would never have the courage to seek out such a thing. You told me the idea was very interesting, but didn't say anything more for a couple of weeks.

Last week though, you told me you had a candidate for my fantasy. After several rounds of correspondence, you have agreed to loan me to Tim, a co-worker of yours, for a weekend. You have told me of the arrangement (and the fact you have shared several risqué photos of me with him), but nothing other than that you are to deliver me to him and pick me up again at the end of the weekend. You have also made it clear that I am to follow Tim's instructions while I am his.

I await the weekend with a mixture of excitement and fear. I have met Tim at a couple of your work functions in the past, and have thought him to be a "good guy", both good-looking and kind, but to give myself to him is something I had not considered before this. I have had this fantasy of submitting to a man for some time now, and while you have known very well of my fantasy, the act of being subservient to you, the man I love, doesn't fuel my fire--too safe, too predictable, I think. The idea of serving a man whose thoughts and actions I don't know well are thrilling to me. All of the people around me (myself included) consider me to be your typical working mother, but I wonder if Tim's plans will expose my hidden sexuality. Are there any limits to this game that you and Tim have agreed upon?

Friday afternoon arrives and you send me to take the kids to stay with our friends while you pack a bag for me. When I return and ask you about the contents, you refuse to tell me, only saying that it's "items Tim requested." I also see that you have laid out the clothes I will be presented to him in. A simple black cocktail dress with a scooped neck and a hemline just above the knees. A thong. Black stockings and a garter. A lacy bra. A pair of low heels and a string of pearls completes my outfit. As I dress, I begin to remove my wedding rings, thinking to play the single woman this weekend, but you stop me--you say he requested they stay on, that he wants everyone to know you are spoken for.

After I finish dressing you drive me two hours and one city away to the hotel you and he agreed upon. We are both quiet as we drive—I know my thoughts are running through my head a mile a minute, and I'm sure you are experiencing the same thing.

I'm shaking as we park and you escort me into a very nice hotel, to the elevator and on to the 4th floor. I can't believe I'm doing this--this is so out of character for me, so much naughtier than I have ever been before!

I was a virgin when we married, and did not have any real sexual experience prior to that. Your erection was the first I had ever seen, much less touched. Over the years, I have experienced two other lovers beside you, both with your permission, both only once, and both very briefly. In each case it was over in less than hour. Both times were fun for the naughtiness factor, but left me wanting something more in the physical pleasure area. In one case the owner of the cock seemed reluctant to the point where I never did actually see it or touch it, in the other, my partner went off before he even got in me. He was done for the night after that.

We walk a short distance down the hallway, my knees knocking, and stop at room 408. You look at me and say, "If at any time you get uncomfortable, say 'a walk on a rainy day'. Tim had given his word that he will stop whatever is happening, and will let you call me. I'll come get you right away, no questions asked." With that, you kiss me, say "I love you--have fun", put the overnight bag in front of me, and knock on the door. You then walk around the corner to the elevator, and are gone. My first reaction is to panic and run after you--I can't go through with this!--but before I can start to move, the door opens.

His eyes sweep down my body, then back to my face. I can imagine him mentally comparing my photos to what is standing in front of him. I wonder if he will do the same when he undresses me...

"Well, hello there. I'm glad you came. I was afraid this might remain just a fantasy for you. Please, come in." Tim's voice is clear and friendly, with a definite tone of confidence. He opens the door wider and reaches for my bag. I take a deep breath and step into the room. As I do, I feel his hand touch my back just above my dress and just below my neck. His touch is warm and gentle, yet firm. Tim quickly follows with a kiss to the exposed skin between my neck and shoulder. His lips linger there until I move past the open door.

As I enter and move away from my escape route, his hand leaves my back and swings the door shut. The sound of the closing door reminds me how vulnerable I am. The thought is equally frightening and exciting.

Tim moves away from me to drop my bag on a chair on the other side of the room, and I take stock of my surroundings--and Tim.

A quick glance around the room shows it is nicely decorated 2-room suite, with a couch, armoir, table and chairs as the main pieces of furniture in the sitting area. Off to the left is a doorway into the bedroom.

I spend more time studying Tim. About 45 years old, 5'10" and appearing to be about 185 pounds, he is dressed casually but neatly in a pair of jeans and button-down shirt. As he walks away from me, I see the hint of a nice bum in those jeans--God, I love a nice ass! Despite my nerves, I begin to imagine him without his shirt, without his jeans--to see his chest, muscles, all of the male parts I have seen so rarely to this point in my life.

And then he turns back to me, smiling. A warm, confident smile, not arrogant, but one that sends a message that he likes what he sees.

Tim notices that I'm still visibly shaking and offers me a drink--"beer, wine, or something harder?" Was that a double-entendre, Tim?

"Wine, please."

He opens the armoire and reveals several bottles of wine, vodka, and rum. He appears to have planned well for this weekend, and I wonder what else he has planned. "Chardonnay or Merlot?" he asks.

"Chardonnay," I reply.

He grabs a wineglass (no plastic cups here--more planning on his part--I like that) and pours me a glass. Handing it to me, he invites me to sit.

I perch on the edge of the couch, sitting straight up with legs primly crossed while he takes a seat in the easy chair. I quickly down my glass while we make small talk about the weather, the traffic, anything but the reason why we're here.

Tim is out of his chair as soon as he sees my glass is empty. He pours me another glass, hands it to me, and returns to his seat. He are the picture of relaxation--leaning back in his chair, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles on the Ottoman before him. In one hand is his drink while the other hand lies open on his stomach, palm down.

The wine and his relaxed attitude are having a positive effect on me. I lean back on the couch with one arm while continuing to sip my wine. My legs are still crossed, however, my dress has started to ride up my thighs. I glance down and notice the hemline is now just below my thong-covered kitty, my garter straps showing a little as well. I'm tempted to pull my dress back down, but I realize he has already seen more than most ever will, and will be seeing much more than this shortly, and let it be.

We chat for several minutes more before he changes the subject. While his posture never changes, his facial expression becomes more resolute, more commanding.

"Do you know the conditions under which you are here?" he asks.

"Rich only told me that I am yours for the weekend, and that I need to do as you say," I answer in a small voice.

"That's right," he replies. "Your husband told me much about your likes and dislikes in his e-mails to me. I hope to make good use of that knowledge to make you very happy before I return you to your husband. I'm certain doing so will make me very happy, as well."

"While you are mine, you must do what I say. If you do, you will be rewarded. If you don't, you will be punished. Don't worry, I will not cause you pain, and I will not put you in any situation where you are in danger, but you must obey me. Do you agree with my terms?"

I nod an affirmative, my confidence emboldened by the wine and my growing sexual excitement.

"So, let's begin our adventure together. Would you dance for me?"

He reaches over to the table next to his chair and pushes the button on an iPod connected to some small speakers. A smooth and sultry Jazz tune floats from the speakers as I get to my feet.

I'm not a very good dancer, but if he is asking, he must enjoy this type of show, so I will do my best. I sway to the music, turning small circles as I undulate and move my bum back and forth.

I turn two more complete circles before turning my back to him and reaching for my zipper. I can only move it a couple of inches, and so move backwards towards his chair, still swaying and never turning to face him.

"Could you unzip me, please?" I ask over my shoulder. He sits up and slowly moves the zipper down my back to just above the cleft of my ass. His free hand moves to caress my exposed flesh, but I dance away, holding the now loose dress to my breasts. I dance back towards the couch, never turning back to face him. Still swaying, I slowly let the dress drop to my waist.

I look over my shoulder and see his eyes follow my exposed back down past the clasp of my bra and along the curve of my sides to where my garter circles my hips. He lingers there as I sway in place, hoping for another glimpse of the start of my ass below the frilly line of the garter. The gathered fabric still hides the object of his lust though, and soon I turn to face him again. I give Tim a good look at my bra-covered breasts as they gently jiggle in the bra cups. The excitement of the moment and the movement of my tits against the fabric makes my nipples stand fully erect, causing them to strain against the lace and point towards him. I dance towards him, my thumbs hooked into the sides of my dress, making it clear to him that it will not be on my hips much longer.

I reach the edge of the Ottoman, and in one motion spin away from him, bend over and push the dress to my ankles. This move pushes my (barely) thong-covered ass towards his face, almost exposing my pussy and virgin puckered asshole to him as a taste of things to come. My light-brunette shoulder length hair flips forward as well, covering my face for a moment before moving it back into place with a shake of my head.

Before he can get too revealing a look I move away, back towards the couch. I continue to dance, alternating between views of my covered tits and pussy and my exposed asscheeks framed by my garter straps. After a moment or two more, I begin to toy with my bra straps, first pulling one down my arm, then the other. Another moment, and I slip both arms out of the loops, leaving my bra supported only by my breasts. I grab my bra with both hands and quickly pull it down to my waist. My 34B tits pop free, bouncing up before settling back into place high on my chest. He gasps and smiles, aroused by the movement of my mounds. My nipples are incredibly hard and erect, begging to be licked, sucked, and chewed.

And still I continue to sway my hips to the music, inviting him to take me, to use me however he wishes. My sexual excitement is causing me to lose any reservations I may have had. I want him to fill every part of me with his beautiful cock, with his loads of cum.

Luckily, you supplied me with a thong that ties to the side, making it all that much easier to expose my cunt--or rather, Tim's cunt, for this weekend--to him. I put my right foot on the arm of the couch and playfully pull my thong to one side, giving him a glimpse of my opened pussy. I flash him a seductive smile, then slip the bow from my panties as I move towards him, allowing my underwear to fall away as I move.

He has a moment to notice I have trimmed my thatch of hair, but have left some as well. Just enough to show I am no pre-pubescent child, but not enough to completely obscure my lips and slit to those who wish to look.

Then I'm on him, kicking off my shoes and climbing on to his lap, grinding my pussy against the hardness in his jeans. He leans forward to kiss me, but I pull back--no stripper kisses their client. I do allow him to touch me as I run my hands over his covered chest, and he responds by putting his strong hands on my asscheeks, rubbing them and pulling at them. He feels the rest of my body as well, taking particular delight in my nipples, but he always returns to my ass, fingers coming ever closer to my rosebud.

I begin to unbutton his shirt as I grind on his erect cock, wanting to see his bare chest. I love to look at men's chests and arms--the muscles so different from a woman's, so masculine. I finish with the buttons and flip back the halves to reveal a nicely defined set of pectorals--not ripped, but I can definitely see the muscles under his skin. His chest hair is just starting to turn silver (very sexy!) and is abundant without making him hairy--it's shade and thickness reminds me I'm under the control of a mature male.

I run my fingers through his chest hair and play with his nipples, sliding my fingers across them gently. They quickly perk up from the attention. I bend forward to tease them with my tongue, but he puts his hands on my shoulders and stops me. "Enough," he says. "Stand for me." I do as he says, noticing a wet spot on his denim-covered hardness. My wetness, his, or ours, I wonder?

Tim rises out of his chair and takes me in his arms, kissing me for the first time. He must bend slightly to accommodate my 5'4", 135 pounds body. Tim kisses me deeply, his tongue gently probing my mouth. His hands roam up and down my body as I push his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.

I break our kiss and bend just slightly to begin kissing his chest, working my way to his nipples. I brush my lips against them, one a time, gently running my tongue around and over them. They again stiffen with the attention.

The position of my body has made my ass and pussy difficult to reach for the moment, so he contents himself with concentrating on my breasts, alternating between a gentle stroking and a more commanding kneading and pulling of my flesh. My sensitive nipples do not escape his attention, getting the same treatment as the rest of my tits.

I continue to caress his chest and arms, wrapped up in the feel of male muscle (did I mention I love the feel of a man's muscles?). Eventually though, my thoughts turn lower, to the part most mysterious to me. I'm anxious to finally examine a new cock, a cock not my husband's. I sink to my knees, kissing my way down his stomach until my eyes are even with his belt. I rub my fingers over the bulge under the fabric, and feel it twitch. Reaching for the tongue of his belt, I undo the catch, and then unbutton his jeans. His hands are now on my head, running his fingers through my hair and his fingertips over my earlobes, sending shivers through my almost-nude body.

I see the fabric of his underwear at the top of his zipper. I slide the zipper down and now see his cock clearly outlined against his jockey shorts, a large wet spot at the head. OK, let's see those legs. I grab the waistband of his jeans and pull them down around his ankles. Tim's legs are nicely shaped, in keeping with the rest of his body, not overly muscular but definitely a man's.

From my kneeling position I run my hands up and down his legs, with each repetition coming closer and closer to the areas hidden by his shorts. I alternate between his front and backside so I may sneak feels of his ass. Eventually my fingers begin to travel under the leg holes of Tim's underwear until with one pass I feel the dangling weight of his balls brush my fingers.

I take a breath to steady my nerves and tug his shorts down. His cock catches briefly on the waistband before springing free and jumping into view.

There it is, only the third cock I have seen this close, and it is beautiful! About 7" long and pleasingly thick, with a nice upcurve to reach my g-spot. A nice amount of hair covers the base, enough to smooth out the lines some, but not too much to interfere with vigorous licking and sucking.

Tim's balls hang loosely in the sack, full of cum for me. I hope to be able to see those balls jump as he fires a stream of his juice for me.

His cock has my full attention. I run my fingertips from the base of his sack up to where it meets the shaft, then continue on underneath his cock until I reach the opening. I stop to explore for a moment, lightly running my fingers back and forth, up and down the shaft. I then move back to the head, taking his precum and rubbing it around the mushroom tip. I continue to touch his staff, gradually increasing the pressure until my hand is wrapped around it, jerking him off. My other hand has moved behind his balls and is tickling the skin between his sack and asshole, my fingers coming closer and closer to his puckered opening.

Tim's movements become more pronounced, his thrusting more urgent. I slow down my stroking of his hard tool, lean forward and draw my tongue the length of the underside of the cock, from balls to tip. I linger at the slit and catch a small drop of precum forming there.

Tim will have no more teasing though, and gently grabs the sides of my head as he presses the head of his cock against my lips. It is a very clear cue and I open my mouth to receive his slick staff. He begins to fuck my mouth, never going deep enough to gag me, but definitely using my mouth for his enjoyment.

He thrusts for a moment, then speaks in a low, guttural voice that carries the physical and mental pleasure he is experiencing.

"As I'm sure you can tell, I'm going to cum soon. As much as I would love to bury my cock in your beautiful little pussy, that must wait for later. As part of our agreement, your husband requested that I save myself for as long as I thought possible before this weekend, and that my first load be on your face. He called it 'marking you', I believe. Do you know what he meant by that?"

I nod quickly, my mouth still wrapped around his cock. I certainly know what he means. When you and I play control games at home, you often give me a facial, saying you were "marking me" asa form of domination. I think this is your way of reaffirming who owns me this weekend.

"Excellent," Tim says. "I've brought myself to the point of orgasm every day for the past two weeks, but have not brought myself off. I think I have quite a bit stored up."