Stifled

It was Tuesday evening and I was walking back from class. My phone buzzed and I looked at my watch -- about seven thirty. I kept my phone on vibrate, as I hate most ring sounds I hear. Anyways, the number was local, but not someone I knew. Thinking it was a wrong number, I almost didn't answer it. In hindsight I wonder now how I'd feel about things if I hadn't answered and passed up the chance.

It was a short conversation. The caller was a friend I had met online who lived in the area, Stefanie. We talked on and off for a while and then even met for coffee once. There was no real chance of any sort of 'romantic connection'; Stefanie's a confirmed and happily-so lesbian. I knew this right from the get go, but I hadn't started talking to her thinking of sex. We met on a blog; actually, I stumbled across her writings and was hooked.

So we talked online for a few months and like I had said, we even met once for coffee. There's just something about her that I can't put my finger on. Perhaps it's the things she had written about and how I wished I could write so honestly. Perhaps it's that I knew there's no chance she's sexually interested in me and so she's safe -- that is, I can relax more and be myself. I'd no idea really.

In one of our chats, I brought up a little semi-fetish that I have. I find it a bit hard to explain, because everyone seems to blow it off as either me just being weird or no big deal. I'm fascinated by a sort of power exchange, to use a BDSM term. Specifically, I'm interested in the idea of someone else being in control of when/where/how often I orgasm.

I know it does sound kind of silly and nothing that bizarre, but let me ask you a couple things: Does the idea of being denied orgasm for days on end appeal to you? What if you toss in lots of teasing, that is being taken to the edge, but not over? Say, teased three times a day every day for a week with no orgasm relief? That's the kind of thing I'm talking about. By itself I'm sure it's probably not all that kinky, but imagine how horny and worked up you'd be? Let's just say it's very easy to delve into other kinkier aspects of BDSM that one might not normally consider when in such a state.

Anyhow, back to the call. Her reason for calling was simple. She'd recalled our conversation about my teasing/control fetish and she was wondering if I still felt that way about things. Without a doubt I did and I must say my heart started to race a little as horribly naughty thoughts filled my head.

In the conversation we'd had, I'd said something like, "I'd love to please you and you'd not have to do a thing, ever." All those images I had during that simple chat came back to me. The idea of orally pleasing a woman, and being sent home after she was done filled me with excitement. Perhaps I'd leave with permission to masturbate, but perhaps not. My cock was stirring with thoughts of her touching and teasing me, and how I've always wanted to experience such things first hand. Up to now, I'd just read stories and dabbled with some 'online relationships'. I knew reality would be far different and, I hoped, far more erotic.

I could tell she was pleased that I still thought about such things. I'm sure she was nervous; after all it was a pretty quirky call to make. She cut to the chase and asked if I could come over at about nine tonight and we'd talk about things. She said she'd email me directions and would see me then.

I was left standing on the sidewalk outside my apartment speechless. Two conflicting thoughts dominated my mind. The first was to run upstairs and see the email she sent. The second was to go to the bathroom and masturbate -- keep in mind, this was kind of a wet dream coming true for me.

I decided to read the email first, perhaps thinking she'd just been kidding with me. She wasn't. The email was there, directions to her house and a final line saying "Behave until we've had a chance to talk". The meaning was clear, until we talked tonight, no masturbation. Other than that, no clues in her email about what tonight might be about.

I was still leery; things like this don't happen to me. I spent the next hour and twenty minutes running through various scenarios. Some of them were good, some of them weren't. I'm not ashamed to say I was hard nearly the whole time and did behave myself.

I got to her place early; I hate to be late for anything. I looked at her door from the street and wondered if I was really going to get the chance to explore a side of me I've always wanted to know better. I slowly walked to the door, palms sweaty, and knocked.

Just like any two friends she answered the door, we said hi and I was invited in. She could tell I was nervous and this seemed to make her calm. Without a doubt there was an awkward pause and then she asked if I'd like to sit, gesturing towards the couch. I'm not sure of all we chatted about at first, my head was swimming.

She got up and went into another room and came back with this little impish grin on her face. While I'd been semi-hard up to now, I found myself fully so now. I swallowed guiltily.

"So," She said, "would you like to know why I called you?"

I nodded, "Of course." I was trying not to sound too silly and nervous.

"You remember the chat, the one where you made some offers to me? Wanting me to help you explore things?" Her eyes were intense; I could tell she was enjoying this.

"Yes, I do." I could feel my mouth going dry.

"The one where you said you'd please me and all I'd have to do is just lay back, moan, groan and enjoy?" She was licking her lips with her darting tongue, which was looking very pink against the red of her lips.

I nodded again, with a very soft, "Yes."

I almost flinched, being so wound up, when her hand came from behind her back and she tossed a thin strip of cloth onto my lap. I picked it up and looked it over, nothing special. It was folded over a time or two until it was about three inches wide and about fifteen inches long.

"Guess what that is."

I swallowed and looked up, "A blindfold?"

She smiled and nodded. "If you want to talk about things, put that on. If you don't, then put it down." She kept smiling at me, knowing there was no doubt in what I'd choose. "I need to go to the bathroom while you decide. Then, I'm going to put in a movie."

I looked down at the cloth as she went into the bathroom, unsure if I should say something or what to do. Without a doubt, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime, but that also made it scary. I wasn't at all sure I was ready for this. The hormones in my blood had the deciding vote and on went the blindfold.

I've never felt so silly, sitting on a couch in an apartment I've never been to before, blindfolded and fully erect. The toilet flushed and I almost pulled the blindfold off, but soon it would be too late for that. I fidgeted in my seat, hoping she wouldn't come out and laugh.

I listened to the door open and waited. She said nothing. I heard her moving about the room, changing the television channel and starting a movie. That was a bit surreal. Listening to the opening of Top Gun and thinking the thoughts I was. I began to wonder if this was a dream.

I heard her walk to the kitchen and fix herself a drink and then sit on the couch. My spot on the couch was against one arm and I felt her sit down at the other end. I was confused, was she going to watch the movie and then we'd talk?

I did jump, startled, as I felt her feet rest themselves on my lap. Her left foot happened to land right on my cock, which twitched quite happily at the attention. Thankfully she didn't just drop her feet, but rested them gently. I swallowed and waited.

Finally she spoke, "You seem awful nervous, are you sure you're ok with this?"

I nodded, "Yes, I'm nervous, scared even. But, yes I'm ok."

Her heel wiggled on my cock, "It's quite an idea, the idea of having a toy to come over and please me when I'm horny. Heck I wouldn't even have to clean anything up." I nodded and licked my lips. "It's an even bigger idea having control of a cock. True, I have no real use for it, but it's intriguing nonetheless." She paused and I felt the urge, the need, to start blurting things out, to try and explain what I was thinking.

She started talking before I could, "You know I'm not cruel, but I'd not give you permission often? And I don't want you think this is some straight-guy's wet dream -- you aren't going to turn me straight or get to fuck me -- never. Right?"

My hands were clutching each other across my belly, knuckles semi-white. I couldn't find my voice to speak at first, but finally got out, "Yes, I know. We talked about that." I swallowed, "I-I-I even suggested the blindfold."

She laughed a bit, "What's wrong? Oh, my foot?" I sighed as she moved it, no longer letting it touch my cock. "I'm going to send you an email after tonight. It has the rules. You can read it over, and let me know. If you agree, I want you to sign it and hand it back. If you're not interested, we'll just forget to night and things will go back to normal."

I nodded, knowing full well things would not be 'normal' again. How could they?

"Now, be a dear and rub my feet."

With slightly shaky hands, I started to rub her feet, both hands on one foot at a time. I'm in one way an expert in such things, so it took a bit of time to get straight what felt good, what tickled. Thinking having this movie on was surreal before was wrong, this was surreal.

We sat in silence. Now and then she'd move her feet, offering my blind hands which one to rub next. Soft little moans gave me the cues to what she liked. I must say, I found the whole thing intense erotic. I just wished I could have seen her face, to see what expressions it had.

About half an hour later, perhaps a bit more, she squirmed and moved on the couch. I stopped rubbing, thinking she as getting up, but she didn't. A new wave of nerves hit me. I'd really settled down while listening to the movie, her sounds and rubbing. Her feet pressed hard into my leg and I realized she was lifting up her rump and sliding her pants down.

I wondered if something I'd dreamed of doing was going with her was going to come true. Well, not just dreamed, but masturbated to. Her feet pushed back at my hands and I started to rub again.

That's when what will no doubt rank for a long time as one of my top erotic memories happened -- she let out this moan and I knew she was touching herself. I wanted to spurt, to cum right then and there. I wanted to move, to join her in touching, but I didn't. I just kept rubbing her feet and feeling my cock gently throb as it wanted attention, balls aching ever so slightly.

She lifted the foot I wasn't rubbing up to my face, my mouth. I need little prodding to get what she wanted. I kissed her toes, soft light kisses. She moaned louder and pushed her toes against my lips. My lips parted and for the first time I suckled her toe, bathing it with my tongue. My hands left her foot and held her by the ankle, so her foot wouldn't leave my lips.

Toe by toe, I licked and sucked each one. Then I kissed up and down the side, the arch, the heel, all over. Her leg would twitch when I tickled and I tried to learn, to not repeat the tickling. Louder and louder she moaned. Her scent just added to my growing yet impotent lust. In and out my mouth I sucked her big toe, like giving it a blowjob. Her other foot found my cock, her toes curling on it, teasingly maddening. I couldn't believe it when she came. The words here don't really do justice to the scene, to what I felt and what I hope she felt.

I've no idea how long this had gone on, but the credits at the end of the movie were running. I wanted to beg her to let me go masturbate in the bathroom. My hands were shaking as they held her foot to my lips, my own breathing nearly as heavy, as panting, as hers.

Every sound she made was just so magnified to me, so sexual, so intense. I wondered if I might cum in my pants without touching, it certainly felt like I could. Her leg pushed lightly down and I let it rest in my lap, hands lightly rubbing her skin that's slick with my saliva. The television clicked off and we sit in silence for a moment. I wanted to speak, to say something, but I sensed I shouldn't. She moves, no doubt pulling her pants up. I feel her lean towards me and I bite my lip wondering what's next. I can't believe so much as happened and we've hardly even spoken.

I feel the lightest touch of a finger, perhaps two, on my rock hard cock. It begs for more, twitching. I hear you chuckle softly and say the words I've been unknowingly dreading, "Well, the movie is over, time for you to go."

Getting up and going home, is all a blur. The first thing I really remember doing is sitting at my desk and reading the rules over and over -- wondering if this is really what I want.

Quite a while had passed since my last writing about things with Stefanie, which means, of course, that I agreed to the rules. A full listing is not really necessary, since they really boil down to one thing: "She's in control of when and how I orgasm." Everything else really flows from that. The bit that took the most to get used to, and to be honest, still causes me some conflicted thoughts is referring to my penis as "hers" -- meaning that I'm sort of the caretaker, if you will, for her male organ.

Anyway, things progressed slowly at first. A call occasionally to come over and be teased, always with the blindfold on, and always being sent home aching for release. On a good day, there'd be an email waiting for me when I got home giving me permission, otherwise, I might visit her two or three times before release was granted.

I don't want you to think she was cruel, we both knew without too much discussion that was the agreement and she loved the control as much as I loved being tormented. The only hitch in things, which in hindsight was probably a good thing since it kept us in check, was that Stefanie was dating a girl and she was inclined to think it might get pretty serious. This of course meant things between her and I could (and likely would) end at anytime and she didn't want things to get too far out of hand. I suppose for the first few weeks.

One day, about two weeks ago, we were sitting on her couch. I was, as usual, blindfolded, but something seemed different. I picked up on it from the start, but wasn't sure how to bring it up and to be honest, I'd learned that she talked about the things she wanted to and it wasn't worth the effort to bring up things she didn't. Time was sliding by as one inane half-hour show merged into another. Finally I heard a sound - a soft sound, but distinctly a moan. I felt electrified. From, the short bit of her I'd seen before donning the blindfold, I recalled she was wearing sweatpants. My mind instantly latched onto the fact that she was touching herself and my nose soon confirmed the maddening hints of her scent. Next my ears picked up the delectable and squishy sounds that could only be made while fingering. I licked my lips, a million questions running through my brain, wondering if today was a day she'd like me to ask about what she was doing.

She spoke before I did, her voice soft, "Guess what happened last night?."

I frowned, "I don't know."

A soft sigh, "Guess."

"You won the lottery?" A half-hearted guess at best.

"Well, the depends on what lottery you're talking about." She sounded smug and pleased, letting the last word be followed by a low moan before continuing, "Andy and I talked about.." another moan caused her to drift off, ".. lots of things.."

I could feel the sweat on my brow, confused. I'd always imagined this would mean no more for her and me, but here I was and she was clearly fingering herself. I opted to sit quietly and wait.

The soft squishy sounds grew, not so much louder, but more frequent. My cock ached inside my pants. Another show ended, the news was due up next -- twice the absurd backdrop for such happenings as the last time I wrote about things.

Her voice soft and teasing, "Don't you want to ask anything?"

You better believe I did, but I wasn't sure what to ask first, "Of course, I'm just not sure what you'd like me to know."

A soft intake of breath from her and I knew she was truly enjoying things, "You could start with.. asking.. about.. what we talked.. about."

Dutifully, I asked "What did you talk about?"

"Lots of things, but in part, being monogamous or being open."

I swallowed; this clearly wasn't going to be good for me. "Did you decide anything?"

A deep groan, "Oh yes, we did." Her scent was growing stronger and stronger. I could see her in my mind, sweats and panties, if she was wearing any, pulled down. Her pussy exposed for the entire world, save me, to see. No doubt one hand was fingering and the other tweaking her nipples. Oh what I wouldn't give to see that just one time, even if only for a second.

"We decided, that casual sex with others.. messes up things between.. girls who are getting' serious." A long pause, I knew she was tormenting me. "Guess what else happened last night?"

"I don't know. You and Andy had mind-blowing sex?" My cock was throbbing gently in my pants. Mentally, I was willing her to touch me, to tease me, but she didn't.

"Mmm, of course we did, we always do. God, if only you could feel her tongue.." another sharp intake of breath, "licking.. she has this maddening way of doing it.." A groan, "her breath on my thighs.. you have no idea how fucking good she is."

I could only, mentally, whimper. No, I had no idea, but my hormone over-filled mind was clearly giving it a go. The image of them locked together, writhing on the bed in pleasure and lust, it's a wonder I didn't break down and masturbate then and there.

A stroke, pardon the pun, of boldness hit me, "So, does that mean.. this is the last...?" My voice tailed off.

I could just feel the grin on her face and knew that mine was flushed. She took her time coming to an answer, "Well, no. Not exactly." The squishy sounds faded, "I gave her that story you wrote."

The silence, save my thumping heart, was deafening. She let it linger, no doubt enjoying my torment.

Finally, I asked, "What did she think?"

I felt the lightest touch of her hand on my jean covered hardness, "Mmm.. so firm, so constrained.. so aching, I imagine.. right?"

My voice soft, she'd hardly ever touched me with her hand, "Yes, aching."

The Cheshire cat-grin no doubt on her face, "You can choose, either. I do this firmer," her hand patted my cock, "or I'll tell her what she thought."

My addled mind raced. Of course it meant that if she was willing to do this that things weren't going to be over. I mean, I couldn't see a downside to picking the stroking and the implied orgasm -- the first directly by her hand. That's exactly what gave me pause, we'd done a question and answer game before, but in the past the right answer hadn't been so clear. Was there something about her reply that was worth my hearing over the stroking? Clearly, that was a hidden, or perhaps not so hidden, implication. The possibilities there flooded my mind, though I knew from past conversations, Andy was extremely unlikely to be interested in the things we did.

What if it was that I asked what she said, that something better could happen and if I didn't ask, it wouldn't? Would Stefanie do that? Of course she would and, no doubt, taunt me with it. Or would she set this up thinking I'd have to know what Andy had said and pass up what would the first, and possibly only, hand job offer to be made?

Her hand rested lightly on my aching cock, "Well? Made up your mind?"

"You're cruel."

"You love it. Choose."

With, a mental curse, a throb and dull ache, a lick of the lips and quick prayer, "As always, the touching is up to you, it's not for me to choose. So, tell me what she said." With a parting squeeze her hand left my crotch and I couldn't help but whimper.