Max & Cheri

Once Cheryl was securely pegged, Max grabbed her hands and pulled them inside her flapping robe, placing them on Max's own nipples. "Play with them," she hissed, luxuriating in the arcing sensations emanating from her tits. Reflexively, and gently, she thrust her hips, glowing in the stimulation transmitted through the dildo.

They practiced all the skills mastered previously, and worked on Cheri going as deep as she could without gagging. Max breathed encouragement and praise. "Ahhhh, that's right. You're getting there. Mmmmm, more or less deep-throat-ish, I'd say."

Still, deep down, Max realized it was no so much about the sex as the control. She reveled in the hold she seemed to have over Cheri; the subtle, yet virtually absolute power she now realized she was wielding.

Seizing that realization and running with it, Max abruptly dropped the complimentary manner, snapping, "No fooling around, now! None of this mamby-pamby licking and kissing! How much of this weapon can you swallow, eh?" Grabbing a handful of hair behind Cheri's ears, Maxine pushed her down hard on the turgid faux-prick.

Suddenly Cheryl was almost suffocating. She started to panic. "I can't breathe!" she silently shouted, while her stomached heaved at each relentless push of the rubber battering ram.

"Relax!" Max hissed, even as the assault continued.

"Wha...!!"

"Let your throat relax; loosen it's grip on the shaft. Breathe around the shaft," The once-again calm Max offered in a soothing lilt. "Don't give in to your tummy. Don't let yourself puke. Believe me, nobody," she chuckled, "wants that."

Consciously, deliberately relaxing her throat, Cheri forced herself to overcome her gag-reflex—and found herself deep-throating in order to survive. She was, indeed, quick to master the skill of breathing around a phalus.

After another few days, it was swallowing practice that posed a practical problem; but Max quickly and impressively improvised; fitting a turkey baster into a soft vibrator sheath, and filling the barrel and the bulb with soft-peaked whipped cream. With Cheri kneeling between her knees, Max, with one hand behind Cheri's head, and, with the other hand, held the faux tool held erect at her crotch, once Cheryl had it fully engulfed, Max held her in place and, rasping, "Here it comes!" abruptly squeezed the bulb. It took more than a few attempts before Cheri was able to swallow the fake-semen without coughing and gagging and having it leak out through her nose.

"So, your assignment," Max announced, with a sly grin, drawing Cheri out of her musing, "is to give hubby a morning blowjob he won't soon forget. You'll have to come up with story as to what brought this on, but I'll leave that up to you. Oh, and I've got an appointment tomorrow morning," she concluded. "But come up for coffee later. Be here by 2:30. I'll want details." No niceties; no 'please' or 'thank-you'; not even the slightest pretense of making it a request! Simply a command—a non-negotiable order.

Cheri couldn't understand why she let Maxine boss her around—indeed, treat her with what amounted to abuse. It really didn't make any sense. How could she, a mature, educated adult, put up with Maxine's outrageous demands. Why did she let her get away with it? In fact, why did she, not only cooperate, but persevere in her efforts to please Max. Cheryl idly wondered what would happen if she refused. "What would happen if I just wouldn't to do what she said—if I decided not to do what I'm told? How would Maxine handle defiance?"

Yet, Cheri knew she wouldn't ever find out, because she wouldn't ever disobey. She just couldn't see herself rebelling; for, somewhere along the line, she'd realized that it was very important to her that she make Max proud. For some odd reason, she'd found that following Maxine's orders was too erotically stimulating to contemplate defiance. And, in compliance she'd found a low amplitude, long wave sexual arousal—a deep satisfying hum running through her core. She couldn't understand it, but then, maybe she didn't need to.

Cheri, dressed in just her joggers and a tee, tapped at the penthouse door at exactly 2:30. Maxine was dressed in a trendy, casual outfit when she answered the door. Greeting Cheri with a hug and a kiss, she bustled her into the kitchen where coffee was ready. "We-e-e-e-ell?" Perched on the eating-bar stool, elbows on the bar, she put her chin in her hands and waited. As Cheri took a sip of her drink, Max prompted, "Details! I want all of the details!"

"Well, we started off like usual. When Jeff put his mug down, to reach for his jacket, in the foyer, I grabbed his head and gave him a long, ferocious kiss. Holding him tight with one hand, mashed against my lips, I reached down with the other hand, unzipped his fly..." Cheri looked up, directly into Max's eyes, as she proudly added, as an aside, "I'm getting good at tackling his pants with one hand. Then she went on, a little more confidence in her voice, "...and fished him out, stroking him a couple times firmly. Still sucking face, I quickly unbuttoned his shirt, then dropped my face and started trailing kisses down his chest and over his nipples. Leaving one hand up to twiddle, I dropped the other back to his sturdy cock, following with kisses down to his growing erection. When I got there, I licked the length and kissed the tip, like I'd shown you before—he was already twitching and trembling; then, with my lips at the very tip, I looked up at him, flashing eye-contact through my lashes, and said, "How 'bout we try something different?"

"I don't know if he nodded or not; I didn't give him a chance. Just like everything we'd practiced..., I just gobbled him up. Rounding my lips, I relaxed my throat, and pushed myself onto him. And it worked! I took in his whole erection; I didn't stop until my lips brushed his hair." Cheri shook her head slightly, marveling at the recollection. "I pumped my cheeks a bit and very slowly pulled back a little, before pushing again."

"Jeff rasped, 'Whoa-oa!' and his hands drop to my head. My hands brace against his hips. 'Jeeeez-uzzzz!' he wheezed. I began bob on and off him. He picked up the rhythm, thrusting a bit, but he only lasted a few thrusts before, with an inarticulate 'Uuuunh... uh...,' he jerked and jolted, holding me hard against his pubes, and shot several strong volleys of cum into the very back of my throat."

"You would have been proud of me. I swallowed most of it and stayed with him—on him—as he quivered and pulsed; until he started to soften and went still."

Max smiled. "I am proud of you."

Cheri beamed at the praise. "And, anyway, I pulled off him really slowly, like there was no rush, catching the drips from the corners of my mouth as I caught his gaze and held it in an almost charged silence.

"He said, 'Holy shit! Where'd that come from?' I just smiled at first and asked, 'You like?' He nodded still catching his breath." Cheri giggled. "He looked like he was in shock. So I told him it was an idea I read in an online article, in a woman's e-magazine site. I even gave him a title: 'Keeping Your Man Happy!' or something like that." Cheri still felt a little bit guilty for lying to Jeff, although she considered it really no more than a little white lie. "I said that actually it was a link in an article—and that I was basically just surfing. But I told him I'd talked with you about it, and that you'd given me some tips and pointers. Then I asked him if it was okay for a first time. He nodded vigorously."

Cheri felt the tingling of arousal beginning within her at the retelling. She waited for Max to say something, but Max just nodded, as well; for she, herself, was deep in thought.

In recognizing Cheri's latent, or rather, her emerging submissiveness, and exploring how she might go about exploiting it, Maxine had also discovered—uncovered—her own dominant tendencies. She hadn't acknowledged her own desire to dominate, to be in charge and give orders until she'd met Cheryl. Now, it seemed, she'd let the genie out of the bottle.

5 - Eat

When they next met, Max informed Cheri that she'd sent her hubby off with a morning blowjob. Cheri blushed as she admitted, "So did I." After they'd finished coffee, and chatted a bit about inconsequential, Max lounged back on the couch and casually bared her bush.

"How about you come here and taste me—just me, all by myself, unadulterated with Paul's pecker-snot?"

"Paul's what...? Eeew! That's gross!"

"Straight pussy-juice, on-tap." She beckoned Cheri forward. "C'mon. After all, you need to know what that tastes like."

For a moment, Cheryl wondered why she needed to know, but she said nothing. She just complied with the request that she knew was not really a request at all. No, compliance was just simpler than questioning—and, somehow, much more satisfying.

Cheri kneeled down in front of the couch and stretched herself into the space between Maxine's legs. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the redolence for the instant's hesitation, before reaching with her tongue, and pressing her face into Max's snatch. Pushing into the tight, still dry crevice, she licked up the length of the fissure, lubricating and gently spreading the lips. Max lay back, bathing in the lingual attention, feeling her tender parts begin to flush and tingle. With the sparkling rush of the let-down reflex, she felt her juices begin to flow. Suddenly Cheri was licking and slurping much more than her own saliva. She could feel Max's vulva blossom, her labia puff and flush, radiating heat, leaking fluid, until the nectar gushing from Max's cunt coated her cheeks and ran down her chin. Running her tongue rhythmically up and down the gushing slit, Cheri gathered and drank Max's pure essence of female.

Placing her hands atop Cheri's Max lifted them to her own breasts. "Mmmmm, that feels so lovely. Give me climax, would you? Keep up what you're doing; just linger a bit at the top. Flick my clit—caress and swirl."

Max dropped her hands again, leaving Cheri's playing with her nipples, and clasped Cheri's head, her fingers entwining Cheri's hair. And if in her moment's hesitation Cheri considered objecting, Max stole the chance by pulling Cheri's face, once more, tight into her vee.

"Gimme some real cunnilingus! Get me off," Max hissed. Cheri needed surprisingly little guidance nor instruction. She just did what seemed natural, imagining how it would feel, she varied the length and pressure of each stroke, tickling Max's clit and stabbing her vagina, changing fast and slow, up and down, back and forth, round and about. Feeling for the vibrations, the quiver and quakes, she persisted and pursued the building climax, until Max went suddenly stiff, heaving her hips, pulling Cheri's face so tight she felt as if she were merging with Max's spasming pussy. Just as quickly, Max went limp—motionless, panting. Finally releasing the pressure on Cheri's head, she sighed, "Well, wasn't that something?"

After a final clitoral kiss, Cheri lifted her head, smiling. She was very pleased with herself; and, although she deliberately tried not to reveal how much, Max, too, was very impressed.

"Okay, my little carper-muncher, your turn." Cheri gave her an inquisitive look. Max grinned a sly grin as she whispered, "Don't even think about it. I'm not doing you. In fact, I want you to stay on me; keep me happy!" Max then placed her hands over Cheri's ears, and slowly, deliberately pulled Cheryl's face back into her vee, tight against her bush, re-engaging Cheryl's puffy, slick lips with her equally puffy and slick twat. Once Cheri had re-established lingual contact, Max loosened her grip and, in a sing-song voice, crooned, "Keep me simmering while you masturbate. I want to feel your climax through your tongue. C'mon! Let's get those fingers busy."

Cheri couldn't help but marvel, objectively, at her very own self. She'd had no idea she could ever be so incredibly sexual, so carnal. And without Max's direction—her demands—and insistence, she likely never would have found out!

Cheri immediately dropped her right hand to delve into her grotto, letting her left hand slide over her boob to pinch at her nipple, but Max batted that hand away. "I'll look after our tits," she growled, pushing the errant hand further down, to her vee. "You focus your attention on your pussy—and mine!" Cheryl's steady slurping up and down Maxine's rapidly moistening, increasingly radiating vulva, fell into a syncopation with the plowing and swirling fingers at her own pussy. Max panted and sighed, her arousal building, a hand at each of their chests, squeezing and twisting, pinching and flicking, in a complicated counter-point to Cheri's caresses.

The speed at which Cheri got there, actually surprised, and pleased, them both! But, even more amazingly, was that they came—the orgasm being Max's second—together—simultaneously!

The truth was that Max and Cheri—although they hadn't, perhaps, realized it yet—complemented each other perfectly. Where Cheri derived sexual fulfilment from submission, Max found the thrill of domination more erotic than the actual sex. For Max, the act of sexual subjugation was incredibly arousing; for Cheri the relinquishment of responsibility was not just soothing and comforting but terrifically satisfying. There was a synchronicity to their new sexual gratification. A fully formed symbiosis was exploding between them: dominance and subjugation balancing submission and unquestioning compliance—Yin and Yang.

Still and all, Max loved sex with her husband, Indeed, they both did; but this was different. Certainly, Max loved getting fucked—loved the variety of positions available in heterosexual intercourse—as well as oral and anal. Furthermore, she had never considered herself in any way lesbian, yet, her developing relationship with Cheri was somehow more dense, more intense than straight sex—than straight sex had ever been! Max recalled, that, from early puberty, she, quite often actually, used to fantasize about being the dominant partner in a girl-on-girl sexual tryst. In her sexual daydreams she was always in a position of power, wielding it over some tender, young innocent—someone like Cheri! Perhaps this was just that—the realization of that long held, long imagined fantasy.

For Cheri, it was like an explosion of experience in what had, up until that point, been a rather muted existence. Her relationship with Max had so much more variety, more colour; way, way more intensity. For Cheri, it was a kind of awakening, and on-going sexual rebirth.

At yet another 'morning coffee', Max invited, that is, ordered Cheri to 'nurse' on her—nibbling and sucking. Cheri went at it without hesitation, gladly and voraciously. Once Cheri was fully engaged, Max guided one of Cheryl's hands to Max's own pussy, coaxing her to twiddle. When Max felt herself beginning to get aroused she stopped everything, and, uncharacteristically, switched roles—nibbling and fingering Cheri until she was panting and gasping, and very close to coming. Then, just as suddenly she stopped the action again, only this time, she demanded Cheri go down on her. "Come on, you little pussy eater. Give me your very best cunnilingus! Make me come!"

Slipping her hands down to Max's hips, holding her target steady, Cheri drew her tongue up Max's slit, lapping up the already running nectar, then swiping her tongue over and around Max's clitoris, before subtly dropping her mouth just enough to stab deep into Max's vagina. As she repeated the process, getting into a complex rhythm, Cheryl allowed Maxine to draw her hands back up to Max's own boobs. "Play with my nipples!" Max hissed, although Cheri's fingers had already begun to dance upon her tits. Leaving them to their task, Max dropped her own hands and flipped up Cheri's top up to bare her boobs. She twiddled and twisted until Cheryl's engorged nipples became rock-hard nubs. Cheri's chest heaved with the rough stimulation, and Max kept her on edge, on the brink, until she, Max, herself, came, wet and hard and noisily, on Cheri's tongue.

As soon as she'd recovered, Max abruptly pulled away, saying nonchalantly, "Sorry to leave you hanging, dear, but I've got things to do." With that, she dismissed Cheryl. Virtually pushing her out the door, she observed, "Hey, you know how to masturbate. You can get yourself off on your own time, eh?"

Returning downstairs, to her own apartment, Cheryl was cowed, but horny—so much so that she shoved a hand down the front of her pants the moment the door closed, grabbing, with the other hand, her breast through her top. Mauling her breasts, she strummed her clit with her fingertips, until, remarkably quickly, she came so hard her legs went soft, gently pouring her down the inside of the door to puddle, panting and swimming on the floor.

After bringing herself off in the foyer, Cheryl pondered, once more, about their—hers and Maxine's—strange relationship; and her own very odd situation. Was it really as pathetic as it sometimes seemed, or was it just peculiar? Cheri was beginning to see how Maxine delighted in keeping her off-balance. What was harder to understand was that she herself seemed to thrive in the unpredictability of it all.

For her part, Max was beginning to suspect that dominance was just as addictive as submission. She got a sensual thrill out of simply taking charge, sparking an increasingly carnal desire to be aroused. Hence, Max had Cheri going down her, eating her out more and more frequently—with or without her husband's cum as a condiment. It didn't escape Cheryl's notice that Max never actually reciprocated. When she, once, made that observation out loud, Max simply growled, "I'll be the only one in this relationship wiping lipstick off my cunt, thank you," before pulling Cheri's face tighter into her crotch.

Max began using dildoes on Cheri while they mutually masturbated, then had Cheri use a dildoes and vibrators on herself while she knelt between Max's knees, eating her out. She brought out the suction-ended dildo, so Cheri could have her hands free to play with Max's tits, and still feel a fundamental fullness while she performing cunnilingus on Max.

One morning she presented Cheri with some vibrating Ben-Wa balls. As soon as Cheryl had given her her morning orgasm, Max had her insert the sensuous appliances into her vagina and turn them on. "I'll hang on to the remote," Max said with a grin. "You do whatever you need to do, but keep those little puppies in until I give you permission to remove them." Cheri gave her a glassy-eyed look as she felt herself already responding to the unique stimulation weighing between her legs. "I'll stop by before 2:00." Sending Cheri out, she stopped just before closing the door, to add, "Oh—and don't cum until I get there." Stumbling into the elevator, heading home, Cheri could see that was going to be a problem.

Max's introduction of Cheryl to the fine art of Soixante-Neuf, to 69ing, was little more than a ploy to let her toy with Cheryl's arousal while sitting on her face; for Max was always on top—always in control. She never used her mouth, except to issue orders, but was free to maul Cheri's boobs, twiddle her nipples, and her clit, playing with stimuli, provoking responses. She could employ any of her growing collection of dildoes and vibrators, in Cheri's pussy or ass, always rationing her orgasms. All the while, pulling Cheri further and further under her spell.

Never before had Cheri felt such depths of excitement, arousal, and titillation. For some strange reason, just trying to follow Max's orders, trying to comply with her precise instructions for directed sex never failed to set Cheri's nerves on edge, causing a hyper-sensitive tingling, evoking an ecstasy that bordered on rapture. And it still surprised her that she was always more thrilled than shocked by Maxine's increasingly outrageous demands. In fact, her continual, faithful compliance was probably, by then, more due to her own expectations than Max's.