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Excerpt from Making Michael Submit:
“You’re utterly submissive to me now,” Junie said to me. “It’s miraculous. I can really see the changes that chastity have brought. Six months ago, you were this phony image of a man, a successful guy with a beautiful wife. But secretly you were pleasuring yourself in a dark corner, and your woman only served as your receptacle when you were in the mood for real sex.
“Now, you’re mine. You’re absolutely nothing, but you’re all mine. You don’t make love, you don’t touch yourself. You cook, you clean, you fawn over me, you jump two inches off the floor if I look at you cross-eyed.
“You’ve gotten more sensitive, too,” she added. “You’re gentler, more attentive to me. Your lovemaking is absolutely divine. It’s like you consume me with your mouth.”
“Princess,” I added eagerly, “my senses are so much sharper. I can tell when you ovulate. I can smell when your period starts.”
“See? Isn’t that wonderful? That’s what chastity has done for us. That’s why I’m going to keep you chaste. Right, Michael?”
“Yes, Princess. Absolutely. I’m so much happier. It’s just that today…”
“Never mind that. Something else you need to know. Your look of need and desperation enthralls me. I want more. I want more of looking down and seeing you kneeling between my legs, your entire being concentrated on only pleasing me.
“I want to see more of you looking uncomfortable and nervous,” she went on. “I want more housework done. I want more oral sex. I crave more of your sexual frustration. I love to see you shaking with desire. I want us deeper into this whole chastity thing. I want you to surrender. Seeing you like this, under my foot, completely within my power, is very arousing.”
I glanced down. Her nipples were sticking out through her bra and top. Junie’s breasts, small as they are, are major sex organs, second only to her clit. It’s where her arousal starts. She saw that I saw, and smiled.
I had an epiphany. All of a sudden, in a flash, I got it. My only salvation was Junie’s complete happiness. My dim mind, finally sharpened by months of denial, came to the realization that Junie was not getting normal sex. And that kind of sex is what my Princess enjoys most.
“Princess, I have an idea I’d like to share with you. It’s about how to make you happy. I know how much you like to make love. And I know we’re never going to do it again. Why don’t you take a lover?
“Before you answer, please understand. I don’t want to know about it, unless you want me to. I know it will be painful for me at first, but so what? I’ll get over it. I won’t be a burden to you. I want you to experience again the joy of making love to a man with a real member. The important thing is that you resume regular sex again. My only concern would be your safety.”
“Like if I picked up a man?”
“Yes, Princess, it’s danger…”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t I the one who picked you up? And took you back to my apartment for a night of sex?”
“Thanks for your concern, Michael. I think I still remember how to pick up men.”
“You’re right, Princess. Sorry.”
“Interesting suggestion. I appreciate the spirit in which you made it. I’ll consider it and get back to you.”
Making a face, she cast a long glance at my disheveled body.
“Michael, clean up your mess, wash the toys and put them away. I’m going upstairs. You cleaned my bedroom, right?”
“Yes, Princess, it’s sparkling. Clean sheets, everything.”
“Good. I’m going to lie down on the bed, and guess what I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know, Princess. Will you tell me?”
She leaned forward, her face just inches from mine, her chin in her hand, and spoke to me softly.
“I’m going to stretch out, relax and then put my hands to my face, my palms touching my cheeks. I’ll slowly move them down, over my throat to my shoulders. Then I’ll slide them down my sides, past my tummy, and over my hips.”
“Princess, you have such a beautiful shape.”
“Yes, Michael, I’m going to savor it. I’ll move my hands across my thighs and start back up my body, over my mound, up my tummy and then to my breasts. I’ll brush my fingers across the fabric.
“You can see my nipples are already hard, can’t you? I feel them without even looking. Slowly, my fingers will dance down the buttons of my blouse, opening them. After the last few buttons give way, I’ll trace the outline of my bra with my fingertip. That’s something you taught me. You tease me so well.”
“Princess, your breasts are so beautiful. They’re the embodiment of love. Think of it, for millions of years, breasts have been the original source of nourishment. Think of the love that represents.”
“That’s a wonderful thought, Michael. I love my breasts. I love looking at them. I love touching them. I like that they’re tiny. I love having them touched.
“I’ll undo the clasp between the cups and let the bra fall away, freeing them. That’s when I will slowly, lightly flutter my fingertips over them, circling my nipples.
“I’ll stop, just long enough to get up, go to the closet and undress. I don’t want my work clothes wrinkled, do I? I’ll hang up my top, put my bra away, hang up my skirt and slip off my thong. On the way back to the bed, I’ll pass the mirror. I’ll stop and savor my nude figure.”
“Princess, you are a jewel. Your body is a magnificent gift from the universe.”
“Thank you, Michael. I’ll stand there for a moment and look at my breasts. Then I’ll turn and look at my behind. Do you know, Michael, I used to think my butt was big and ugly?”
“Your ass is perfect, Princess. Your curves are totally proportional to your body.”
She stood and looked down at me. “What time is dinner?”
“Six, Princess. Tofu, asparagus and mushroom stir fry. Won’t take long, less than an hour.”
“It’s two now. If I haven’t called you by five, start dinner. If I do call you, get the strap-on, knock on my door and wait.”
No, I didn’t get a real estate license. It’s a fun query from Food for Thought Friday:
Is there a location that you have never had sex in/at but you would love to try it?
A car? cinema? outdoors? the beach? a church?
Do you think it will ever happen? What has stopped you doing it so far?
By “sex,” I’m going to assume they mean sex between two people, not masturbating. It’s a distinction that’s important to me.
That’s because I masturbate a lot. And with the aid of modern technology (a strap-on butterfly vibrator with a remote), I can masturbate (discretely, of course) virtually anywhere in public. Think parks, coffee bars, on walks and hikes (where it’s not possible to undress), while driving, at the mall. I’ve developed a routine where I tease myself mercilessly, flicking the remote on and off, and then find a relatively private spot to bring myself to completion. Wicked fun!
Masturbating in public relieves (among other things) the urge to fuck in off-the-wall places. Yeah, I still think about it, though. I’ve been rummaging around in my mind, trying to come up with a place that would be real turn-on to fuck a lover.
Let’s start with the list above. A car? Please, I’m an American (with a nod to our neighbors to the north, also Americans, I’ll specify that I live in the U.S.). All adolescent sex (or nearly all) takes place in cars.
Cinema? Finger-fucking and blow jobs at the movies are another aspect of growing up in the U.S. And let’s not forget drive-in movies, which, far as I know, are unique to the U.S. I’ve definitely indulged in PIV (penis in vagina) sex at a drive-in. Not lately, though.
Outdoors? Repeatedly, often, can’t do it enough, love to feel the wind on my bare ass.
The beach? Nope. Sand.
A church? Raised Catholic, I have a serious sacrilegious streak, so you’d think it’s a natural. I guess the trauma of my upbringing (not sexual abuse, but definitely spiritual abuse) makes churches such a turn-off that the thought of fucking on a church pew or on an alter does nothing for me.
So what’s that leave?
Public bathroom sex. I’ve masturbated in public restrooms a lot (in a stall usually, once or twice at the sink watching myself in the mirror), but haven’t done it with another person.
Being an erotica writer, I’ve taken that fantasy and worked the hell out of it, though. Like this: A lunch between two women at a white tablecloth eatery, they’re planning a weekend escape of nonstop lesbian sex and debauchery. Over-heated and excited, the women rendezvous in the ladies room for a quickie.
It’s the lead to my erotic short, The XXX Weekends.
Melanie had closed her eyes. Tendrils of arousal blossomed in the pit of her belly. Heat spread across her chest and down her softly sloped stomach. Warmth flooded her abdomen, soaking her panties.
Before she could say anything, the waiter arrived with the bill.
“How exciting is it, Melanie? Tell me.”
Junie craned her neck to survey the dining room and leaned back in her chair. “Go to the ladies room. I’ll follow in two minutes.”
“We can do this. I know this place. The handicapped stall. Take off those wet panties and wait for me. Don’t argue. Go.”
Melanie started to say something, but stopped. Without a glance toward Junie, she picked up her purse and walked to the ladies room.
Junie checked her phone for messages, found none, and followed her.
Hat’s off—hell, everything off—to those bold, freedom-loving, breast-baring ladies of The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society for sponsoring a performance of Shakespeare’s The Tempest with a cast of 13, all nude.
How’d they get away with it, totally nude, in Central Park, on Manhattan, in New York City? Since it was an “artistic endeavor,” it was legal.
“Fully nude?” you ask. “I know it’s legal for women to go topless anywhere in New York a man can, but I didn’t think it was legal for either women or men to go fully nude in public?” Well, under most circumstances that’s so. But there’s an exception to the laws against what’s called “public exposure,” and one of them is if you are performing in an artistic performance. Such as a play. Such as The Tempest by William Shakespeare.
Click here for the full story (and more pix).