What I Want Ch. 03

After I dismounted we continued to play around and kiss. Her hands soon found there way down to my cock, one to keep my balls warm and the other to gently stroke my softening shaft.

Mara told me that she really wanted to be my mistress. She told me it was the first time she had had sex with someone that wasn't her age and she liked how I "took control" of the situation (meaning her).

I told her if she were to be my mistress she would find that I was a pretty demanding guy and she would have to be a pretty obedient girl. She giggled and said she had no problem with that.

I told her exactly what I'd want from her. I knew all the details. I told her how I wanted her to dress. I told her what kind of sex I wanted. I told her what I wanted to hear her say.

Over the next three years she complied with my wishes. For the record, I saw her on 192 separate occasions (I keep meticulous track of such things).

She wore the most sexually provocative outfits possible, from a school girl uniform (without and outrageously short skirt), to skimpy denim cut-offs (even more delicious on her with her long skinny legs), to a tight red leather ultra-mini-skirt and tight white t-shirt (with the words ‘sex toy' on it), to black spandex hooker pants and skimpy tank top.

We engaged in the sex I want. We engaged in the fantasies I had.

I'll never forget fucking her in the ass with her school girl kilt still on. I'll never forget cumming on her face with her kneeling before me and her hands tied behind her back. I'll never forget the blow jobs. I'll never forget the sight of globs of my sperm on her tongue. I'll never forget her whispering in my ear, "Please cum in me."

All things, good or bad, eventually come to an end. My relationship with Mara would be no different.

Interestingly, it was the peak of this relationship that planted the seeds of its doom.

It was a little over two years of weekly sex and I was finding that our 2 and 3 hour escapades were simply not enough. I would tell her this every time I'd see her. Two hours after a session and I'd be horny again just thinking about it.

She would tease me and tell me I should take her home to meet my wife. I knew this was no solution to my perpetual horniness.

Then I hit on it. I had to travel to Nassau on business – but just overnight. I would stretch it out to 4 nights and bring Mara with me. I just wasn't sure how Mara would feel about this. When one pays for it, one can never be sure what the girl is really thinking.

To my pleasant surprise, Mara agreed to come. In preparation I bought her two of the skimpiest bikinis I've ever have seen. Her ample cleavage was almost entirely exposed. And her perfect butt was mostly there for public viewing.

When not on the beach I had her wear some of the sexy slutty outfits that she wore for me back home, but wouldn't otherwise have worn in public.

I showed her off and it took only a glance for someone to realize this girl was mine, but wasn't my wife.

The important thing for me was that I got a lot of sex. We'd wake up and have sex. We'd have breakfast, walk on the beach, then go back to the room to have sex. We'd lounge on the beach, have lunch, and then have sex. We'd go for a walk and I'd have to drag her back to the room to have more sex. After a night on the town, we ended it by having sex. Each and every day.

Over the time we were there the sperm was pumped out of me 34 times. This is no exaggeration. Yes, in some sense, I treated her as a sex object. No, I had no interest in other parts of her life. But Mara appreciated my fascination with this aspect of her and consciously wanted the object of my sexual desire. She had no or little interest in other aspects of my life. The relationship was perfect. And our days in Nassau were the height of this perfection.

Almost two months later, Mara told me she was pregnant. She thought she missed a pill on one occasion, and apparently that messed things up. Before I could say a word, she told me she had arranged for an abortion, and it would happen in a couple of weeks or so. She asked if I could pay for it.

I detected an inner sadness in her. But she explained that she wasn't in any position to be a mother right now. She still worked as a stripper, wasn't good for any other kind of work and her stripper lifestyle wasn't conducive to being a mother. She was, in her view, too young, and not in the kind of relationship yet that would be good for raising a child.

I told her I'd respect her decision, whatever it was. I told her that I had no problem in paying for the abortion. I told her that of course I had never intended anything like this to happen to her, and if there was anything else I could do, I would.

The abortion occurred some two weeks later. She brought a close friend with her (who I had never heard of before) and things went well.

Her spirits quickly revived and she quickly reverted back to her wild stripper party girl ways. We resumed our sexual relationship, but I noticed she often had booked other things and the time we spent together got shorter.

Mara surprised me one day and asked me if I'd like to see her together with another girl. After confirming that I would get to have sex with her, and she would get to have sex with her, I agreed. It turned out to be this friend of hers. And it turned out they were now living together.

Whereas Mara was a pure 10, Tracy was an 8. Mara began to bring Tracy with her (at my expense each time). Although the sex was good, I noticed that the time spent with me continued to shorten, and Mara's interest in me was beginning to dissipate.

One day Mara asked me if instead of paying them cash, would I pay for a trip for the two of them to Cancun? I told her I'd think about it.

After mulling it over, I realized that I wasn't enjoying sex with the two of them as much as I used to with just Mara. And it wasn't just the presence of Tracy. It was also Mara's rushing; and Mara's disinterest.

I told Mara that I'd be willing to pay for their trip, but that there'd be conditions. The first was that each time spent together would be a minimum of three hours (our last time had been barely 70 minutes) and that I wanted to see each of them separately (so they couldn't play their stalling games and would have to concentrate on me).

Mara simply blew her stack. I knew of the expression "a filthy mouth" before, but I'd never seen one in action until now. The accusations were flying. Anger spewed as if lava from a volcano.

And second by second, I sat back and realized that our relationship was ending – right then and right there.

I never saw Mara again.

Three months later Mara called me and asked if I'd like to get together again. I told her I didn't think that was a good idea. I told her we had always had a business relationship and that really, for both our sakes, it was best to keep it that way. It was clear that emotional baggage had entered into things and that it would be better for me, but especially her, if she moved onto the next chapter of her life. The last words she spoke to me were "I guess you're right."

This might not have been the ending you expected, but life doesn't always follow story books.

You might think this story has a moral – that it should show me the errors of my ways. You'd be wrong if you do. I have never wanted to do harm to Mara or anyone else. I engaged in this sex, purely for the pleasure. I've known that this pleasure is what I want – or more specifically what I need. That hasn't changed.

But I recognized that the abortion had had an understandable impact on Mara. And it was now my estimation that the best way to minimize this impact was for her to have a new beginning. She didn't need to be reminded now of the man who had impregnated her. She didn't need to be reminded now that that man saw her as a slut and whore. She didn't know this, but I did.

Mara now needed to find out what things brought her pleasure, the way I found out for myself. And I hope she has found precisely that.

As for me, as you may have guessed, after a few months abstinence (from those other than my wife) I was again on the hunt.