My Path Pt. 05

Moira, my ever so patient black widow, beautiful and poisonous, drew me into her web. Unlike the eight legged arachnid, her goal wasn't to kill and consume me, but to mold me into her vision of the perfect husband, a drone dedicated to his queen, but unlike the drone she had no intention of ever allowing my sperm to fertilize her eggs.

I was falling harder and deeper for Moira. It was easy to explain my attraction. She was beautiful, older, sophisticated, educated, affluent and she kept inviting me over. Her behavior certainly made me feel the attraction was mutual.

The only times I felt rebuffed were when she dated which was tough, but not nearly as tough as when she showed up at a company function with another man. I would do my best to avoid her, but she would seek me out, introducing me to her date as Peabody's genius intern. She dated a lot of different men and while she didn't have makeout sessions in front of me she had no qualms about hugging, touching, hand holding in front of me. To see his arm draped around her tanned shoulders, around her waist, resting on her hip, was painful. Even more painful was knowing after the company function I was going back to my apartment alone and he was going home with her.

While she and I were certainly having a lot of physical intimacy it was certainly not the kind of physical intimacy he was experiencing with her. Unlike him, the only parts of me entering Moira's vagina were my tongue and fingers. The simulated intercourse we did have was when I used her dildo on her. There were no blow jobs and the hand jobs she gave me really did approximate a milking as she started from the base of my penis, firmly grabbed my penis, and stroked upward, stopping short of the head. My ejaculations weren't really climaxes, but a way to relieve without satiating my sexual arousal.

She knew how men ticked and to prevent me from becoming lazy, unfocused, or selfish she kept my arousal just below the boiling point. My milkings were akin to lowering the heat to keep the contents of the pot from spilling over onto the stove.

We didn't really talk about her dates from an emotional angle because it was pretty clear to me who was spending five to seven days each week with her she preferred me to them.

She would bring them up in a round about way by commenting on how well I handled meeting him, "No one would ever guess by your reaction you and I are dating. Very good. I worry your jealousy will get the best of you one day, especially if you've been drinking."

I assured her I knew the risks too high if I blew it. Not only would I damage our relationship, but she would lose her job.

She didn't really ask my opinion of them nor did she volunteer much about any of them. I never saw her with the same man which made me feel she was dating to keep up pretenses. I did wonder why sex with them part of the cover up. She just explained woman have needs they need scratched.

"I could scratch them," I volunteered.

She caressed the side of my face, "You do scratch them, but that itch is different from the other itch."

"I could try,".

"Shhh, cuck. We know we'd both be disappointed. Focus on what you're good at doing." She would then push my head down so I could perform cunnilingus or roll over onto her stomach and have me worship her rosebud colored anus with my mouth.

Deep down, I knew she was right, but I still wanted the opportunity. If those men had cocks the size of her dildo I didn't have a chance with my slender four and a half inches. I swallowed my pride and considered myself lucky for what she did allow me and hoped one day she would allow me more.

Her arousal magnified my own. The more powerful her orgasm the better I felt about myself. Unable to climax because of the cage or to become fully erect, my penis did swell until physically unable to get any bigger and my penis did leak precum.

Within the confines of her house and very private backyard we were boyfriend and girlfriend, but anytime in public she treated me like the Peabody summer hire I was. She was very paranoid and questioned me and others and listened to the rumor mill to see if anyone was gossiping about us.

Her trust in me grew as she learned I was very good at keeping secrets. I didn't cry on anyone's shoulder on her date nights or weekend trips, but sucked it up. It was an unconventional, wild, and exciting time, but I also dreaded its end.

My trust in her also grew. In late July we spent the weekend together. She released me from my cage. I had taken to give myself an enema after being let out in preparation for my milking. Cleaned out internally, shaved and washed externally I joined her in bed getting on my hands and knees. My penis was stiff.

She was on her side and told me to lay down beside her. We hugged, my erection making contact with her hairy pubis. We shared a few soft kisses.

She looked me in the eye and whispered as her hand reached between my legs. Instead of reaching for my erection or caressing my swollen scrotum she probed my anus. She slid one then a second lubricated finger into me.

"Cuck, I know my fingers feel good, but I want to make you feel really good. I want to deflower you."

"Huh?" Shocked, in disbelief, but thrilled I responded thinking she was saying she wanted my penis inside her.

"That would be great, Moira."

She kissed me hard, "I'm so relieved Pet. I thought you might say no. It's one thing to be milked, but quite another to be fucked by a woman."

I told her I thought she meant she wanted my penis inside her, to make love. I know I sounded disappointed. She showered me with little kisses and hugged me, "you sweet, sweet man. I'm sorry I confused you. I promise you won't be disappointed."

My next thought was what was she going to deflower me with. The only dildo I had seen was much too large.

I expressed my concern.

She kissed me on the bridge of the nose, "No silly, I have a strap on."

Not wanting me to have too much time to think about it, she got out of bed, strode into her closet and reappeared a few minutes later wearing a harness from which protruded an average sized pink dildo. She went into the bathroom and returned with a towel.

"Put this under you Pet and lay on your back."

I did then watched as she applied a rather large amount of lubricant to her fake cock.

She climbed on the bed. I opened my legs.

Her face above mine I said, "Moira, I'm not gay."

She said, "I never thought you were, but don't limit yourself."

Feeling a little calmer, I knew that penis was larger than than the two fingers she used to massage my prostate.

"Be gentle," I asked.

"I will. I promise. Now bare down as I enter you."

She guided herself into me and it did hurt I imagined just like when a man deflowers a woman.

I felt torn inside and my rectum felt as though something had been shoved into, something hard and unyielding. When she began to withdraw I felt immediate relief.

She pulled all of the way out. I wondered if we were done. She sunk the entire length back into me.

Not so painful. She began to fuck me, long strokes mixed with short strokes. We kissed as we fucked. I actually grabbed her ass wanting her to fuck me harder. It was a wild and impassioned ten to fifteen minutes. She told me to look down. I watched as she lowered her hips into me and from my now soft penis blobs of thick ejaculate oozed out reminding me of that last bit of toothpaste squeezed out of the tube.

Satisfied my climax was complete, she stopped thrusting. She observed, "You liked it didn't you?"

I nodded and said feeling a bit ashamed, "I did."

She answered, "Me too. I've wanted to do this for a long time. Thanks for indulging me."

I told her, "You're welcome, but I wonder if I should be the one saying thanks."

She withdrew and left for the bathroom. I followed her a few minutes later feeling the need to defecate. I wiped, noting the red on the toilet paper. Moira had taken my cherry.