The Maneater

"Do you embarrass your husband when you do that? Flirt with others?"

"Ted has always known I like flirting," I said. "He calls it my 'sporting event' to make other men notice me. Some women play tennis. I flirt as a hobby. And I've heard Ted joking with the other husbands about it, almost like taking bets saying, 'Watch what she does next'. I think he's studied how I flirt and he's proud of it."

"He might still be jealous of your flirting."

I decided to give him one of my most risqué examples. "We were on vacation, attending an adults-only costume party in a bar. I was sitting at a table talking to a woman when her husband came over wearing a kilt. His T-shirt said "Good girls ask what's under a kilt. Bad girls find out." So, I reached under his kilt, found he wasn't wearing underwear, and I started stroking him."

"You gave a hand job in a bar?" he asked in surprise. "Did your husband see you doing it?"

"Ted stood nearby watching me. The guy's cock felt rather good, getting hard under there, so I kept it up, with a few others watching his kilt moving as I worked him. One guy standing near my husband asked him, 'Is this the line?' Ted let him go on for about two minutes making comments like seeing me do it every night in that club, which wasn't true, and asking when Ted was going to get his turn. Ted calmly said 'I get her every night. She's my wife.' The guy was shocked, and said, 'My God, you're a lucky man!' Ted sees my flirting as making others jealous of him."

"Did you go further with any of their husbands?"

"I'd never trade sex for a favor," I replied. "That was the first time I ever did it. I just got him hard to make his kilt stick out. I trade my looks for the feeling they get thinking I'm interested in them, which is the only thing men need to boost their egos. If I put some effort into looking good for them and show them some attention, then they owe me! They get an ego boost, and I feel desired or get whatever I want! And when the wife is conspiring with me, the wife gets what she wants, too."

"Could you give me some other examples of how you plan ahead for interacting with others?" he asked ...

After Dinner Sex with Ted

Ted sent a text, saying he was going to be thirty minutes late coming home from work. He was fixing a problem at a remote data center. He tries telling me how he can control computers on the other side of the world. But I'm hearing "blah, blah, blah," until I finally have to say, "You know I'm not listening."

So, I had dinner on the table by the time he walked in. Ted's simple and doesn't need fancy dinners. He said his mother wasn't a good cook, always making cheap and tasteless meals. So, to him, any meal is just to put something in his stomach, and he could eat the same thing all the time. When he prepares a special dinner, he does it for me.

Tonight, I threw together a quick batch of spaghetti for two, with a ready-made jar of meat sauce and added a vegetable for balance. After we sat down and began eating, the conversation quickly turned to my earlier counseling.

"So, did you get into talking about your attitude problems at work?" he asked.

"Not yet. Today was about dating, how you and I got together, and how I like to flirt with men. I mentioned that time with Ronda's husband."

"I think she over-reacted," Ted said, dismissing her husband's behavior as some kind of normal. "What kind of guy wouldn't want to grab your ass when you come on to them?"

"Would you grab another woman's ass like that?" I asked, starting to wonder about him. Have I misjudged my husband and maybe taken for granted that he'll always be here?

"You know I grab Maggie's ass at the house parties," he pointed out.

"That's different. She wants you to do that at swinger parties. What about at the neighborhood parties? Would you grab Ronda's ass?"

"If she put it in my hand, like you sometimes do, backing up against a guy when flirting. Why not?"

"Because she's not a swinger! That's just wrong to manhandle a woman that way."

"You need to make up your mind," he said dismissively. "If Ronda puts her ass in front of me and dares me, she'll get it! You can't have it both ways; right when you want it, but wrong when someone else does. This is like you bitching about how I didn't change the oil on your car last Saturday."

"I told you the oil change light came on! And that's on your side of the fence to do it."

"It doesn't work that way, expecting men to always know and immediately do what YOU want. I was cutting the grass, which is also on my 'to do' list. I've told you before; 'I can do ANYTHING, but I can't do EVERYTHING! So, make up your mind. Give me a blowjob and tell me your latest priority!' If you wanted the oil changed in your car last week instead of the grass cut, blow me!"

I almost smirked at that but managed to maintain my control. Then I thought about it and asked, "What is it with you and wanting blowjobs from me all the time? Is that to humiliate me?"

"Of course not," Ted replied. "... I think it's about your priorities. When I'm on top or going down on you, it's all about you and getting you there for your orgasm. When you get on top riding me, it's still about you getting there. Although I enjoy it when you dig your fingernails into my back as you orgasm, when you're giving me a blowjob, ... that's you doing it for me. So, I appreciate it more. It's like you're showing me I'm important, ... at least for the moment."

"You're always important to me," I said in a loving tone, and I wondered if I've been assuming too much, the counselor's doubt making a little more sense. Maybe Ted is getting bored. He does anything I want, whenever I want. Soooo ....

"If you're done eating," I began, "let's take showers. I want a video this evening."

"Okay," he said with a very casual tone, ignoring any disagreement and going with the flow, as he always does. If there's one thing I DON'T like about my husband, it's this "Okay" attitude of his! He rarely ever shows any emotions, and I have trouble reading him! But he's still mine.

...

We showered, and I used my personal shaver down there to get rid of the stubble. I keep myself completely shaved. I like the feeling of skin-on-skin during sex, since too much hair down there decreases the contact with my clit. And I used a hair clip to hold my hair back from my face so he would clearly see my lips from any angle.

I walked into the living room without dressing, grabbed one of the blankets from the ottoman and covered my swivel chair to sit as I picked up my tablet computer. As I browsed our list of porn videos on my computer, Ted came from his shower. He picked up another blanket to cover his chair and sat, as I was double-clicking to start the video I wanted. This one had a woman on her knees, servicing four guys who stood around her using her mouth and hands. Then I cast the video to the big screen TV for both of us to watch and set my tablet aside, picking up my glass of wine.

The actress was soon enthusiastically sucking one of the guys, and I put my wine glass down, stood and turned my back to the TV. "I feel like sucking cock tonight," I announced as I looked at Ted.

I know, if those judgmental types at work saw me now, they'd be thinking 'Why would she do that?' Maybe this time, it was Mark who planted the idea in my head that I should think a little more about my husband. Those judgmental women will be divorced in a few years, while I ensure my guy NEVER wants to leave. Tonight, I'm going to make this all about him, and I know what he likes.

Ted scooted his butt to the edge of the chair and moved his feet apart to give me room, as I knelt between his legs. I took a moment to admire his manhood as it began stiffening and bobbing in front of me, and I'm going to focus and enjoy making it twitch even more.

Reaching along his muscled thighs, my hands almost wandered by themselves feeling his taunt skin, rubbing his thighs gently as they made their way toward my target. My fingers soon found their way and grasped his thickening shaft. I loved the feel of the warm, soft flesh in the palm of my hand, with my fingers wrapped in a loose grip around it. Moving my hand up and down a little, he soon stiffened until I was stroking the long hard length.

Dropping my head closer, I pulled the purple mushroom head to my lips and kissed the end. I flicked my tongue across the tip and felt his shaft throb a little in response. Then I opened my mouth to take half of it in, making circles around it with my tongue. I fell into my rhythm with his member in my mouth as I bobbed my head up and down a few times. When it felt fully hard between my lips, I leaned closer, taking the head to the back of my mouth, and pressing against it as I tried to get it further in. I still had three fingers wrapped lightly around the base as I pushed my head down, then my stomach retched as I gagged. I tried a second time and gagged again.

After I gagged a third time, I took his member in my right hand and removed it from my mouth. Dropping back to sit on my heels, I looked up locking eyes with him, saying "Well, I tried. But I can't deep throat you."

I tilted my head to my left, never losing eye contact as I moved my lips to his right nut and sucked it gently in. Rubbing my tongue around that hard ball, I watched as his eyes rolled upward, then he looked back down with a big grin.

Seeing the gleam in his eyes, hearing his quiet moans, and feeling his member twitch in my hand and mouth felt fantastic. He was under my control, but I wanted more. I lowered my chin down and under him, still holding his stiff member against my forehead. My lips were under the base of his balls, my tongue searching for that sensitive spot under and between them.

He was responding to me, when I felt his hands on the back of my head pulling me in, and I felt a warm, tingly feeling causing the wetness to slip out and spread between my thighs. His reactions were almost like an aphrodisiac. My stomach tightened and I could feel my nipples harden as I sucked that spot, and I reached down with my left hand to start rubbing myself.

Closing my eyes, it felt so good, his fleshy member in my hand, as I pulled my head away from his light grip and moved the shaft back to my mouth. My fingers probed my nub with the wetness seeming to call those fingers within. I slipped a third finger into my opening, thrusting them in and upward. And I couldn't resist the urge to add a fourth. I rotated my hips as I jerked my fingers up and halfway in, riding my own hand as I felt the wave building. But I wanted him to pulse in my mouth!

Opening my eyes, I pulled him out of my mouth and gasped for air before looking up at his face.

"You can come in my mouth," I offered quickly as I continued stroking it.

Ted smiled at me, "You know how much I love it when you do that."

"Will you be able to cum again later?" I added.

"Maybe, by the time we're ready for bed."

"Then cum in my mouth!" I insisted as I leaned down again, taking him back in and bobbing my head on it.

I felt his body move as he slid forward and stood from the chair. He pushed my forehead back, pulling his cock out of my hungry mouth. Sitting back on my heels, I watched as he grabbed his member and started stroking it in front of me. I love this view, watching as a man masturbates, his hand flailing up and down on it, faster and faster as he gets closer.

Ted stepped closer, and I looked up, seeing his lustful gleam in those bright blue eyes. Opening my mouth wide and turning my chin up, I stuck the tip of my tongue out, giving him a target to guide it in.

I watched as his hand slid along the length of that fleshy shaft just inches in front of my face. His breathing was quickening, and I could sense his pending release. When he took one final deep breath, his back arched, and I felt the first spurt as the thick fluid hit my tongue. His hand paused as he focused and aimed it down at me, and I watched as he jerked it erratically, feeling spurt after spurt filling my mouth. That view of him jerking off, his hand sliding along his stiff shaft turned me on even more, and I wanted to take the head between my lips. But I know how much he likes seeing it shooting in, and I gave him the present of my open mouth to finish.

Ted's shoulders slumped as his hormone release gave way to his satisfied relaxing finale. I felt the tip of his cock brush against my tongue as he wiped off the last drop. Waiting a few seconds for him to appreciate the view of me kneeling there below and in front of him, I held my mouth open for him and swirled my tongue around my lips for him to see the white stuff pooled inside. It didn't taste bad this time, and it wasn't too thick. So, I closed my lips and swallowed, watching his eyes brighten and I smiled with the feeling of being so desired, ensuring he'll always be there for anything I want!

Holding out my hand, he took it and helped me to stand, as I said "I'm not done. I need a toy." Then I went to the ottoman to retrieve my flapping, vibrator dildo, before taking my seat in my swivel chair. I threw my left leg over the arm of the chair and spread myself open, placing the head of the rubber shaft there. But Ted took the toy and brushed my hand away.

"I'll drive," he said as he knelt between my legs to lean in. He kissed my protruding nub, sending tingles through me. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the next thirty minutes as he used the toy, along with his fingers, lips, and tongue, bringing me to my final ultimate, leg-shaking high ...

Session 3

During my second session, the counselor asked me about my husband's feelings toward my flirting. Was he trying to cast doubt in my mind that Ted MIGHT someday cheat on me? So, I thought I'll go 'full-blown Jan' on him this time, showing him who's really in control.

I changed clothes and left work wearing a sexy tight-leather, short black mini-dress, with thin black cloth sleeves to better highlight my hands and wrists. The top of the dress had an opening just under the neckline to display my ample cleavage. I chose black four-inch heel shoes with ankle straps (the type which even had a small D-ring on the side suggesting ankle restraints). This style shoe with an ankle strap gives me better, positive control of the heel.

I selected a diamond choker-style necklace (again the subtle suggestion of restraint which men love) with a red ruby heart dangling on a sturdy chain down four inches (another pointer, and suggestion of a leash). Then I added two silver bracelets for my right wrist to use while I "talk with my hands" to confuse him. I'll innocently wave my right hand with those bangles while talking, drawing his eyes around the whole package. 'That's right, bad boy, ankles, thighs, short skirt, cleavage, throat, lips, or eyes ... don't YOU know where you want to look?'

My long auburn hair was done in the left hanging flip over style, with a hairclip on the right side holding it back behind that ear. I kept that side of my face cleared for any visuals to send when coyly turning my head to the left. I can touch my lips with a finger, giving that naughty suggestion I'm comfortable taking things between my lips.

My lipstick was a redder shade than usual, not bright hooker red, but close, so he couldn't miss thinking about these full, pouty lips. I added a little sparkling green eye shadow, to use in drawing his attention by batting my eyes. And I put an extra spray of perfume on my left wrist for tactical use when needed.

Perfume is one of those misunderstood accessories, even by most women. Some women pay exorbitant prices for scents, thinking it will make them unique. They think men will fall for it, with the advertisers making her believe it's special, that it will make that special man fall for her. Some women change their perfume as often as they change underwear!

But I know it's a combination of sight and smell every man's simple mind understands. Any reasonably good scent works, when used at the right moment. I have one perfume I wear to work or for the mom-next-door look, and another I haven't changed for decades when I dress for a seductress look. When I know I have his visual attention, I set my mark, attaching a leash with the smell of my perfume. Then they'll always associate that same scent with ME.

Senses, that's the key to creating the leash. I always use the same perfume, or breath mints and brand of lipstick, so when I embrace him with that passionate kiss, he tastes ME. I select clothes to make the first impression: silk falling over the curves for the visual, or the soft feel of cashmere, if I expect a hug running his hands over my body. Then I attach the smell or taste to it.

Today, it's the look and smell, but don't touch or taste. 'A picture paints a thousand words', so make that picture scream at him 'You want ME', a thousand times, ... or at least three hundred thirty-three times! But that extra, thousandth word is still 'ME! '

I know, this is probably overkill for a counselor session. But I wanted to pull out all stops to show him. And you might think I'm obsessed with looks and being 'God's gift to men, ' and you'd be wrong. I don't dress to please men, or even to please myself. I'm the predator, not the prey. I do it for control, not narcissism. If I just thought about ME, I wouldn't put any effort into analyzing how men think about the way I look or act. This is not about ME and my own self-worth, but about controlling THEM!

When Mark opened his door to the waiting room, he saw me and the look of surprise on his face was obvious.

"Jan?" It was almost a question, as if he wasn't sure he was looking at his next appointment. "... Come in."

He held the door open, and as I casually sauntered by him, I reached my left hand up to run a finger very lightly across his chest as I passed. Men see the woman's hand there as a flirty move. But I use it to put that extra spritz of perfume on my wrist closer to his nose to link the hint of citrus with his new image of me, ... attaching the leash. From now on, every time he smells that perfume, he'll think of me.

I walked past the chair I used during the other two sessions, previously sitting with my back to the door, and I spun on the balls of my feet to gracefully drop into the identical chair sitting closer to his desk and facing him, still standing at the door. After he closed the door, he hesitated for a few seconds looking a little confused before stepping past me to retrieve his notebook and pen from his desk, then he returned to the other chair.

I know it's a subtle thing, but I was establishing my position in our relationship this time and ensuring he knew who was now in control.

"You dressed differently this time, Jan," he began, and I could tell he was trying hard to maintain his composure. "Do you dress like this in the office?"

"Never," I assured him. "I decided to show you my man-killer look. I wore something like this on my first date with Ted, my husband, when we were eighteen years old. It's like my 'coming out' look when I first noticed how I could catch men's attention. Am I catching yours?" and I allowed my eyes to linger as I made an obvious show of glancing down at his pants.

"So, this is how you dress to flirt with men," he said in a clinical tone, still trying to resist.

"No," I confidently corrected him. "I can flirt anytime, even in a waitress uniform. This is what I do to take control and own them. This is how I dress when I want to destroy them. Notice how you didn't ask me to change chairs, to give you your usual seat near your desk."

"You think you own me now?" he asked, still resisting. "Maybe I was being polite. Or a man might be deferring to allow the woman to have her way. It could even be that, as your counselor, I want to maintain the calm atmosphere between us. There are many reasons why others might not say anything about the situation."