On The Pill

"I'm fucking you again, fagboy."

"I know, sir. I feel it. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, baby." He was being a little more tender now. He actually kissed my ear as he ground his penis into my behind. Then he gave me earlobe a little bite.

"I love you, daddy," I said.

"Shut your fucking mouth," he ordered.

I shut my mouth and concentrated on squeezing his big dick with my assmuscles.

"I'm going to give you another hot hosing," he announced.

"Hose me," I said eagerly. "Spray it all into me."

This time his hips went into jerky movements as his thick milk shot out into me. "AAGGGHHH," he groaned again.

"AAAHHH, aaahhh, aaaahhh," I said as my fluttering orgasming asschanel sucked up his juice. Now he'd had enough. I felt him drift off to sleep on top of me, his cock still way deep inside my rectum. I tried not to move. I didn't want to disturb him. Finally I too fell asleep.

I was dusting the coffee table in the living room. I was nude except for my flowered apron, and my hair was very long. I had on earrings, and lipstick and eyeshadow. I knew my white haired man would be home very soon and I started to mix him a very dry martini. I heard him come in the door and walk up behind me.

I felt him against my naked ass. He pulled the string on my apron, and I was even more exposed. I don't know why, but I could feel him inside me, even though he wasn't yet. I turned around. He handed me a large bouquet of roses, which I laid on the coffee table. I stood up and threw my arms around his neck, and drank the nectar of his sweet kisses and my fingers wandered through his thick wavy white locks. I knew I was dreaming. I struggled as hard as I could not to wake up. I wanted to never wake up. I wanted to go on in that dream forever. But you can't go on in a dream forever. My eyes opened.

He was still lying on top of me. His breathing was even. He was still asleep. His long cock was still buried in my ass. Even in my dream I had felt it. He was holding my hand in his. I squeezed his hand a little. It was so wonderful. He was a brute, but I loved him. Was this like the battered woman syndrome? The more they batter you, the more you love them. I must be really sick.

I felt him stirring on top of me. He moved a little. I didn't say anything. He was awake now. His cock was still deep in my ass. I felt it hardening inside me. Then he started gently rocking on top of me. A sweet morning fuck. Neither of us spoke. Very slowly. Very gently. He fucked me for almost an hour. His hand was still holding mine. He squeezed my hand as he fucked me. I squeezed his hand as he fucked me. His white whiskers were longer and sharper now against my cheek. Probably I had a stubble also.

Finally I felt him getting longer, wider, stiffer, and then his seed was spilling out into me. My tissues quivered around his cock and I had another anal orgasm. This time after about five minutes, he withdrew his dick from my ass.

"I'm going to take a shower," he announced. He walked to the bathroom and I heard the spray of the water as he turned the faucets. When he was drying himself, I nudged past him into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and began running the water for my own shower. I was puzzled. As I soaped myself, I wondered how all this had happened.

I came back into the bedroom, drying myself with the hotel towel. I sat down on the side of my own bed, and looked at him. I broke the silence. "I don't understand it," I told him. "You won't believe me, but I didn't do anything. I didn't put anything in your drink. I wouldn't have done that again. I wish you could believe me, but how could you?"

"I believe you," he said.

"You do???" I was absolutely amazed.

"Yes. You weren't the one who put something in my drink."

"Who was?"

"I was? When I knocked the rolls off the table and you bent over to pick them up, I doctored my drink."

"You?" I couldn't believe my ears. "But why?"

"I didn't think you'd been punished enough for last year. I wanted to punish you more."

"Oh," I said. I didn't know what else to say.

"And also I wanted an excuse to fuck your ass again."

"You did?" Now I certainly couldn't believe my ears.

"I live alone now and I don't get laid that often. And you have a great ass for a faggot."

"I do?"

"Take my word for it. You have a great ass."

"Thank you," I said.

"Thank you, who?" he asked.

"Thank you, sir," I said obediently. I loved him. I would do anything for him. I was his slave.

"Do you think that maybe you might want to fuck it sometime when you weren't all drugged up, sir?" I asked timidly.

"I might. I just might," he said. I was in seventh heaven.

The rest of the convention was like a dream. Like a honeymoon. We gambled. We laughed. We made love. I hit a five-dollar machine for twenty thousand dollars. He fucked me again and again. In every position we could think of. I felt like a bride.

This time when we flew home and went back to work, things were a little different. He seemed very gentle to me now.

He called me into his office. I brought the books. But it was not to be a financial meeting. As I sat across the desk from him, breathing in his cologne, adoring his handsome face, admiring his startling hair, he proposed that I come over to his apartment that evening and cook dinner for him.

"How about it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Yes. I'd like to do that."

That evening when I got to his apartment, he had everything in the refrigerator. Steaks. Mushrooms. Salad vegetables. He had thoughtfully bought me a pretty flowered apron, but I was still worried about staining my good clothes, so I got naked and put the apron on over my bare body. Just like in the dream. Only I didn't have the long hair, the earrings, the lipstick, the eyeshadow. I would have to work on adding those things.

I cooked a wonderful dinner, and after I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, I took off my apron, and he led me into the bedroom. He got undressed and crawled into the bed next to me.

"What do you want, faggot?" he asked me.

"I want to suck your big thick cock, sir."

"You can do that," he allowed.

"And then I want you to stick your big thick cock up my ass and fuck the bejeez out of me, sir."

"I can do that," he assented.

He rolled back the covers and held up his stiffening cock to me. I crawled over it. I went down on it. After a proper sucking, he fucked me, I think, all night long, and the next morning. I had to leave for the office a half hour before him. We didn't want to be seen coming in together.

This went on for several nights. Finally he made a proposal. He liked the way I was taking care of him. He liked the way I allowed him to make all the decisions without the slightest protest. He was getting used to my cooking dinner. He was getting used to me washing the dishes, vacuuming the apartment, servicing him in bed. He said he liked having the company. He had been getting a little lonesome lately, and he liked having me around. He also finally admitted he didn't mind fucking a faggot's ass. Or getting a blowjob from a homo. A fuck was a fuck, and a blowjob was a blowjob. And certainly if I didn't mind, why should he? He had become so broad-minded. It was wonderful.

I certainly didn't mind. We agreed that I would keep my own apartment for the sake of propriety. That was my official residence. But in reality I would be living with him, in his apartment. I was finally doing what I hadn't been able to do for Ivan that time. I was sharing an apartment with another man. I actually had a relationship. It could be tricky down at the office. No one must ever find out. And as much as I would have wanted Gregory to know that I was his new stepmom, telling him was out of the question.

Brock opened a household charge account for me. I began to do all the food shopping, and I also picked up a little costume jewelry, plus a few flattering cosmetics. This faggot was going to go all the way for her guy.

One night Brock walked through the door with a large bouquet of red roses for me. I put them in a tall vase and arranged them. My hair was almost shoulder length, now. At the office I told them it was the 'Generation Z' look. Very in. They believed it. My lips were covered in glistening scarlet, which seemed to please the master. He kept coming over and nibbling on them while I was cooking.

The days passed and I had never been so happy. He even began inviting Gregory and Silvio over to dinner, but would not allow me to be naked or wear my apron while they were here. We were to be two office buddies. That's all.

One night we were in bed. He was lying between my spread thighs, feeding his long tube into me. I had my arms around him, holding his body very close to mine, as I responded to all his movements. I raised my eyes and looked at his beautiful snow-white hair. My handsome white haired lover. I kissed his perfect face, and drank in the aroma of his cologne. This was his smell. My darling's perfume. I loved it so. He kissed my lips lightly, then deeply. "MMMMmmmm," he mumbled. "This is so great. So great." He slammed his hips down driving his cock deeper into my ass. "I have my own faggot," he rejoiced. "I have my own personal faggot to fuck every night for the rest of my fucking life."