Sleeptalking

John had always had a problem with talking in his sleep. It wasn't something that bothered me, not the least because I was a heavy sleeper and because he generally shut up if I nudged him hard enough in the ribs, but tonight was different. We had recently moved across two states in pursuit of new jobs - John was in publishing, I was an accounts manager at a bank - and between the stress of moving, the new job weighing down on me and the crushing burden of never getting to see my friends anymore, I couldn't sleep. Which, of course, only made John's sleep talking all the more aggravating.

I'd been lying on my back for the better part of an hour, trying to will myself to sleep despite the ceaseless miasma of gloomy thoughts churning through my mind, when John began to stir and mumble for the third time tonight. So far, he had been sleepily complaining about the price of hoagies at some stadium event, and haltingly declaring his love for ornithology - despite his chronic inability to identify even a common pigeon correctly - but this time, there was something different about the way he was talking. It was still the same semi-coherent warbling as always, but the tone of his voice made my ears perk up, and my attention slid immediately onto him and his oddly whimpering words.

"Nno, babe, don't..."

His brow was creased, and I shifted onto my side to watch his face in the dim light of the streetlamps outside. John groaned and shifted slightly beneath the sheets.

"Please... jus' a little more.. mmnh.. so good.."

I had never heard him speak like this before, but it was clear to me that he was having some kind of lewd and lurid dream. Glancing down, I saw a significant bulge in the sheet covering him, and I couldn't resist a smirk. So, my husband was having a dirty dream, huh?

Carefully, so as to not accidentally wake him, I reached down and pulled aside the covers to expose John's hard cock splayed across his stomach. A tiny bead of precum had already leaked onto his skin, and I made sure not to move a muscle as I gingerly shifted my hand down to wrap my fingers around him. This elicited a soft whimper, but he did not stir. Instead, his words picked up again.

"Nngh.. yesss.. th's good... thank you, Mistr'ss..."

'Mistress'? John had never called me anything of the sort, but it was evident that whatever he was dreaming, it was something that had his cock harder than I'd ever seen it. Admittedly, we hadn't had a lot of sex since the move, since the stress and the exertion had killed my libido, but something about feeling him thrum between my fingers was incredibly sexy-- and more than a little empowering.

But there was still the question of what to do next. For the moment, John was simply groaning slightly in his sleep, while his cock hammered its pulse-beat into the palm of my hand. I could wake him, take advantage of this impromptu erection and break our mutual dry spell... but something made me hesitate. Whatever he was dreaming about, it wasn't his wife riding him. And I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't curious about what had gotten him so riled up as to be moaning in his sleep about it. So rather than wake him, I leaned in, hand still clutching his length, and whispered softly into his ear:

"You like it when your Mistress touches you like this?"

John nodded, a faintly agonized frown on his otherwise sleeping face. "Yuss," he groaned, and his cock throbbed in my hand. "Please..."

My smile widened slightly, and I let my fingers slide down gently across his manhood to elicit another moan from him. Evidently, my husband was concealing a submissive side.

"You like it when she strokes your cock, baby?"

Another groan, and a breathless "Yes" that hissed between his lips. His body was starting to react to my touch, but unbelievably, he was still fast asleep. So lost in his dream that not even my whispering voice could wake him. If anything, it seemed to spur him on.

"What else do you like, sweet thing?" I felt like I was groping in the dark, curious to explore this unseen depth of my husband's sexuality but worried that I might break the spell at any moment. Fortunately, it was as if my hold on him was keeping him suspended in his blissful dreams, and when he next spoke, my eyebrows rose by several surprised degrees.

"Nnh.. ropes.."

"Ropes?" I couldn't suppress a little bit of shock in my voice. "You want your mistress to tie you up?"

This time he only nodded, but I could feel his cock tremble with excitement at the sound of my words as he whimper-moaned wordlessly into the night. It was hard for me to contain myself, but with my fingers stroking slowly and delicately back up along his cock, I tried to lean into the role of the mysterious domme of his dreams.

"You dirty boy." I felt awkward saying it, but the way he groaned in response was oddly satisfying. "I'm gonna tie you up and tease you until you're begging to cum. Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Miss..!" John squirmed slightly and gasped as goosebumps of pleasure spread over his arms and legs. "Wanna worship.."

And suddenly I felt his cock throb harder between my fingers, and I pulled my head up to watch his orgasm erupting all over his stomach and chest, a spray of white that glistened in the faint light from outside. I looked on in astonishment, keenly aware that I had barely even touched him, merely coaxed him with my words. Apparently, this was more than just an idle wet dream. And by the time his climax petered out, he gave a great sigh of relief and began to snore softly, while I extracted my fingers from around his length and just stared at his cum-stained body. All of a sudden, I had something entirely different to think about, and more than a small amount of need burning between my thighs. Gradually, a plan began to percolate in my mind, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep, lulled by the thoughts of my husband's whimpering moans of supplication.

 

 

It was three days later, on a Friday night, when I set my plan into motion. John had been working overtime most of the week to push out another draft, and I had spent that time stocking up on what I needed, taking care to research and consult a few of my more open-minded friends before committing to anything. Now, a few hours after a lovely dinner, we were sitting opposite each other in the living room, sipping wine and sharing work anecdotes, which mostly consisted of ragging on people for not doing their job correctly. John was on his third glass of wine, I was on my second; I didn't want to overdo it tonight, especially not when I wanted a clear head to pull off what needed doing. By the time John was draining the last of this drink, he had just finished up another story, and a quiet lull fell between us.

"Hey, babe?" I glanced over at him with a coy smirk. "How are you feeling?"

John smiled at me. "Pretty good! Why d'you ask?"

"Well.." I put down my glass and got up. "C'mere. There's something I want to show you in the bedroom."

His face lit up. "Bedroom, huh? Okay, color me intrigued!"

I lead the way into the bedroom and gently shut the door behind him. Then, taking a deep breath to steady myself, I turned to face him, grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a hard kiss. When it broke, I could see the confusion in John's eyes, but it was also tinged with something that I took to be pleasant surprise. I'd never really acted like this before, never been the one to use my strength, but now I let my hands slide up to his cheeks and held his gaze with a stern look on my face.

"Take off your clothes, baby. And then turn around."

If he was hesitant, he didn't show it; instead, John immediately turned away and began to unbutton his shirt, and when I was satisfied that he wasn't looking, I walked over to the dresser and carefully slid open the bottom drawer. Normally, we only kept junk in there; paper for the printer, a few loose screws and odds and ends from John's handyman projects, but tonight, there was a package stashed there, one which I tore open to reveal my recently purchased treasures. Candles, massage oil, a cock ring-- and several long handfuls of silk rope.

Looking over my shoulder, I could see John slipping out of his underwear, and I briefly admired his youthful physique, the broad shoulders and the firm ass, which was a gift now that he was pushing 40. He idly kicked away his clothes into the corner, while I rose with the rope in my hands.

"Put your hands behind your back, baby," I commanded, and this time I noticed a definite moment of hesitation before he obeyed. Was he nervous, I wondered? Worried that I might have found some hidden stash of porn on his computer, learned his secrets? Well, whatever the case, it hardly mattered as I walked up, pre-bound loop in hand, and slid the soft rope around his wrists. One tug, and his hands were trapped, and then I set to securing the knot to keep him from wriggling out of it, while he began to stammer awkwardly.

"Wh-what are you doing, babe? I'm not--"

"Shush." My voice was soft, but it cut through his words like a parting knife. "Tonight, you don't speak unless I say so, understood? And until these binds come off, you will call me Mistress. Is that clear?"

I tugged the rope in place and stepped back to await his reply. Eventually it came, trembling and breathless.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good!" I admit that there was equal parts relief and satisfaction as I said it, but when I turned John around to nudge him onto the bed, I could see his cock standing just as firm and proud as the night of the sleep-talking hand job, and he must have seen my wry smirk, because he immediately opened his mouth to say something. An apology, maybe, or an explanation.

I cut him off, however, and pushed him onto his back on the bed. "Quiet! No talking unless I tell you, remember? Or do you need me to gag you as well?"

I didn't have a gag, and I honestly wasn't sure why I had even mentioned it, but the way his eyes lit up, even as he kept his mouth shut, told me that this kinky streak might run deeper than I had imagined. Slowly, I let my hands trail over his thighs, and when I was certain that his full attention was on me, I began to undress, gradually stripping down in a sort of half-dance that served to flaunt every attribute that I had. Ass, legs, tits, the taut stomach from my younger days of playing volleyball, lips-- all of it was put on display, until I was as naked as he was, and towering over him as he lay helpless on the bed.

"Tell me you love me." My smile was nothing short of lewd as I spoke. John licked his lips eagerly.

"I love you, Jules."

I frowned slightly and pursed my lips. "That's not my name tonight, remember?"

John blushed. "Sorry. I love you, Mistress."

"That's better." I grinned down at him and began to sashay around to the other side of the bed, forcing John to crane his neck to look at me. "You want to make your Mistress happy tonight, don't you?"

He nodded. "Yes, Miss."

My knee sank into the mattress as I began to climb onto the bed. "And you want your mistress to be good to you, don't you, baby?"

"Yes, Mistress. Please."

"Well, then." I looked down at John from my position above his head, with my legs spread just enough that he could see the freshly groomed contours of my sex. His gaze flickered up to witness my smooth lips, but to his credit, only for a moment; then his eyes were back on mine, attentive and slightly glazed with desire. I smirked.

"Then show me how much you love me. Earn your pleasure tonight."

I had picked up a few phrases of dirty talk from some online articles I had read, but I had no idea if it was having the desired effect. Fortunately, that question became fairly academic as I shifted myself forward and lowered my lap onto John's face, until my clit was pushing against his lips and his nose was buried in my folds. Carefully, so as to not suffocate him, I leaned forward, but where he might have expected me to touch his cock in a 69, I instead laid my head near enough that he could feel my warm breath on his aching member, but only that. At the same time, I ground my hips back against his mouth, urging him to pleasure me with his tongue.

He did not disappoint. No sooner had I laid down than I felt his mouth open and a warm wave of pleasure wash through me, with the flat of his tongue rubbing enthusiastically against my sex. I could feel his entire body shift with the movements of his head as he dove in deeper, striving to taste every inch of me while his length bounced achingly against his abs. Harder and deeper he worked, swirling and pressing his tongue against the side of my clit, then across it, and then rubbing in tight, electric circles that sent sparks of bliss coursing up and down my spine. It wasn't long until my moans were coming out in hard, ragged gasps, and the harder he worked, the more I found it impossible to not buck and grind back against his mouth, riding him for my own, selfish pleasure until the thundering wave of pleasure crested and exploded into bright, muscle-tensing orgasmic bliss. Again and again I pushed myself into his tongue, and if it hadn't been for the sudden, agonizing sensitivity that rocked through me, I thought have kept going until the man passed out. Instead, I finally rocked forward with a crooning moan, and heard him gasp loudly for air between my legs. A small puddle of pre had seeped from his tip, and I grinned as his cock bounced and oozed another pearly bead into the matted tangle of hair on his stomach.

I laid atop John for a few, long moments trying to catch my breath, and then I shifted off of him, and off of the bed entirely. On trembling legs, I walked over to the dresser to retrieve the cock ring and the massage oil, which I held up for him to see before slinking down between his legs.

"You're a good boy," I crooned, and I heard John gasp, although whether it was from the compliment or from the tight rubber ring that I was busy pressing down around his shaft is hard to say. As soon as the ring was in place, I wrapped my fingers gently around his shaft to feel the blood pulsing hard beneath the skin, and then I leaned in and planted a soft, teasing kiss against his frenulum.

"Such a good boy," I repeated, and I could feel John's urge to reply fight against his desire to submit to me-- a desire that ultimately won out. Whimpering, he flexed his cock and drew a deep, ragged breath while I looked at him with a triumphant smile.

"I wish you'd told me about this before, baby," I said softly, and wrapped my lips around the tip of his cock to suck, once, like a delicious lollipop. "If I'd known that I could make you happy just by tying you up and sitting on your face, I would have done it a long time ago. Promise you won't keep any of your fantasies from me again, okay?"

He groaned as I once again slid his cock into my mouth, but he still managed a strained "Yes, Miss," before the pleasure of my tongue dancing over his sensitive skin caused him to groan and gasp again. I smiled as best I could with my mouth full of cock, and bobbed my head a few times around him until he was glistening with slick spit. The salty taste of precum clung to the back of my throat when I pulled away and began to climb into the bed with him.

"Good boy," I giggled, and for a moment I hung, poised and straddled above him, with his eyes drinking in my naked, dominant body. Then a smirked, winked and pushed him in between my legs, skewering myself on his hardness and sliding down until I could feel the soft press of his sack against my cheeks, and the hard rubber ring pushing against my folds. No lie: I had missed him, missed the feeling of him inside of me, and with my hands on his chest I slowly began to ride him, bucking my hips forward to grind against his pelvis before pushing back to slide him deeper inside me, a simple and primal rhythm that soon had us both moaning in unison. Back and forth, back and forth, feeling his hips rock gently up against me in an attempt to coax even more pleasure out of our union; I knew that this had to be torture for John, whose fondest pastime was tracing his hands over my body to touch and caress every inch of me while we made love, but somehow, his strained groans only helped to assure me that this was what he wanted; trapped and made to pleasure me without any recourse, he could only glory in the sight of me as I rolled my hips and bit my lower lip in anticipation of my next orgasm. It was coming I knew it, and so did he, and the look in his eyes was pure, unbridled lust.

"Fuck..." The word slipped from his mouth, and I glanced down with a mock-disappointed look, too caught up in my pleasure to properly chastise him. Bit by bit, thrust by thrust I was growing closer to the edge, and then I felt John shift beneath me, his legs curling up and pressing his feet against the mattress to give him the leverage he needed to properly fuck me. At once, my steady pace devolved into a furious rut as he fought against his bound hands to service me, driving his cock upwards while I pushed back against him and moaned and moaned and moaned. He must have known I was close, or perhaps he simply got lucky, but he had barely managed two dozen strokes before I felt another climax pound through me, and I dug my nails into his chest as pleasure once more rocked through me like thunder. Trembling, shivering, a loud exultation of my pleasure cried into the humid air of the bedroom-- and then, peace.

 

John looked at me with starry-eyed awe. His cock was still trapped inside me, but he had stopped thrusting, and we both simply lay in each other's presence, me with my arms across his chest, and he with his trapped beneath him. Something inside me felt very warm and wet, and with a soft kiss on John's lips, I slid off of him and rolled onto my back. Immediately, hot- pearly-white cum began to leak out of me.

"You came?" I turned my head to look at him in surprise.

"Sorry," he said, his face flush with exertion. "I couldn't help it."

A soft smile spread across my face. "Don't apologize. I mean, I was going to give you a slow, teasing handjob, but..."

He laughed and squirmed slightly. Already, his cock was starting to droop, while a few leftover drops of cum were leaking onto his belly. "You were just too hot," he said with a shy smile, and his blush grew a shade darker. "I've never seen you like this before. I didn't know..."

"Me neither." I smirked and sat up, gingerly closing my legs to try and keep too much of him from leaking out of me. "But I have to admit I really liked it. You're kinda hot when you're an obedient little slut."

Laughing, I got up and waddled over to grab a towel that I had reserved for cleaning him off. Now it came in handy for myself, and I turned to watch him struggle to sit up, his face and groin still glistening with the excess of our play.

"Thank you, Jules," he muttered, but once again, I cut him off, although this time with a cheeky grin.

"Ah-ah-ah! What did I say about that? Until the binds come off, I am Mistress to you."

John laughed. "Right. Sorry about that, Mistress'."

I walked over and sat down next to him to undo the rope. Then I pulled him into a hug and kissed him deeply on the lips.

"I love you, John. Guess the handjob will have to wait until next time."

He turned to at me and smiled. "Next time?"

I nodded. "Next time."