Finally catching on, I deduced, “You have no intention of telling me anything, do you!”
“Great deduction, Watson,” she smiled, as she took the roundabout exit onto the M4 towards Heathrow Airport.
“France?” I asked, desperate to know the plan.
“… is a country,” she answered.
“I hate you,” I sighed, knowing that no way was Laura going to give in… that being just one more thing about her… she could be incredibly charming, aggressively impressive or outright annoying… at the moment it was the latter… although the idea of a long international weekend with the girls was actually a pretty intriguing idea.
“And I despise you,” she countered unconvincingly, reaching out with her left hand and giving my leg a friendly pat.
“You’re lucky your hen has already happened,” I responded.
“Oh, you’ll be thanking me and screaming my name in euphoria before this hen is done,” she promised, the sexual innuendo not even remotely vague.
I moaned sarcastically, quite able to play sexual games, “Oh yes, Laura, mmmmmmm, eat me.”
She looked at me hungrily and said, “Now that is what we call foreshadowing.”
Just then her phone rang and she used Bluetooth to answer it with her car’s dash. It was her husband. As they chatted, I recalled Laura’s hen party when we drove to Edinburgh and we got her a male stripper. The stripper came to our room and we all enjoyed watching him strip off, but after he left I was horny as fuck and my knickers were wet from watching. Everybody got ready to go to bed and when I thought all the others were asleep I slowly started to rub my clit. Turns out I wasn’t the only one because as my breathing grew deeper, I could hear squelching sounds coming from both Laura and Sarah. I ended up finger fucking myself to such a deep silent orgasm, knowing they were getting off while I was, but we’ve never mentioned it. That’s the closest I’ve ever come to going with a girl other than a few drunken snogs to get free drinks while at the U. But, I’d be lying if the idea of a lesbian romp with any of the girls… especially Laura who would definitely be dominant… didn’t turn me on. On occasion I fantasized about doing whatever Laura said when I was reading lesbian erotica or porn. And my go to stories or porn videos were always where one girl/woman dominated/seduced another. Laura hadn’t always starred in my fantasies, for years she hadn’t crossed my mind at all in that way. But recently I thought of her or sometimes other girls I knew while I jilled off. As if my body was questioning my decision to settle down, get married, have kids and all that jazz.
Since I’m not a lesbian, I would never mention my lesbian fantasies to any of my friends, but if one of the girls, or even one of my senior students, decided to make me her slut, I’m fairly certain I would be helpless to resist… and I have lots of recurring fantasies as evidence of that personal weakness.
I mean I love George… and he understands my domination fantasies and has helped me fulfil some of them… but he doesn’t have the right anatomy for the one fantasy I have deep inside. A fantasy I’ve never told anyone.
Now my only fantasy isn’t a lesbian submissive romp. Before I met George I was researching the idea of sex parties and sex dungeons where a group of men would dominate me for a night… using me as their three hole fuck slut. This was a fantasy that at least once a week I became totally lost in. Have you ever had an out-of-body orgasm where you were completely transported into your fantasy and had no idea where you actually were? That was the power of my gang-bang fantasies. But every time I came, afterwards I cursed myself for having such a twisted fantasy… I was a teacher, not a cheap bimbo fuck slut… yet, every once in a while that desire to be used and dominated by a group of men (or a football team… that means a soccer team for you Yanks) takes me over and I wake up having had the most intense orgasms.
George has done what he can with the information I’ve given him (of course I haven’t let him know of my lesbian fantasies or my gangbang slut fantasies… I mean how would he react?), but I did share with him my desire to be dominated, or blindfolded or handcuffed.
…..
On my birthday a couple months ago, George did all three. He ordered me to dress in my sluttiest lingerie and to be on my knees on the floor in ten minutes.
My kitty leaked just because of the firm order as he kissed me hard and walked out of the bedroom.
I got into my lace red teddy, matching red knickers and the mocha thigh highs I’d just bought and got into position, my kitty already leaking with anticipation.
He walked in ten minutes later, a good five minutes later than he’d ordered me (which was an obedience test as I was normally very adamant about punctuality). He walked in naked, already fully hard, and immediately slid his cock in my mouth without a word.
And then he grabbed my face and roughly face fucked me… something he’d never done before.
It was exhilarating, just being used.
It was incredible, feeling his cock slamming into my mouth, feeling his balls bouncing off my chin.
It was humiliating, being treated like a whore, which, of course, only enhanced my adrenaline rush and induced further gushes down below.
“Tonight you’re my whore, understood?” he asked as he pulled his cock out of my mouth, which was dripping with so much of my saliva that a string draped from the end of his mushroom top to my lips.
I responded quickly, immersed in the role play, “Yes, sir, use me as you wish.”