Sadie is lovingly fucked

“Now this one is what we’ll call the ‘Lou’ dildo. This isn’t sly or wink-wink-nudge-nudge type. I think it’s best for you to experience making love and not just sex. Or rather, as close as we can get to it. That means a real person. It means Louis or Marley as they’re the only men in your life. And since Marley is out for now, I think it’s time for you to experience being made love to by Louis.” Sarah talks about this with a casual air that I in no way share. She’s freaking me out a little as she attaches both dildos to the harness.

Setting the harness in her lap, you’d think Sarah was just casually asking a question. Just tossing it out there as if the answer didn’t matter. But we’ve been close for weeks now, and way way more than intimate. I can tell by the way she’s tucking her chin down, the way her shoulders are turned just a little extra bit away from me, the way her voice goes extra soft. It all says that the answer to her question isn’t only relevant, it’s important to her. “Sadie, do you trust me?”

And I know why it’s important. Because she burned that bridge with the whole devotional as punishment thing. She proved that she can hurt me. And while I can’t say for sure whether her devotionals had helped me be ready to be with a man or not, whether they made it easier for me to lay in Marley’s orbit and let him do that to me, I can say that I’ve thought about it. But trust? We’ve had our ups and downs. I used to trust her. I feel good toward her right now, better than after the devotional punishment thing. But trust?

I slowly shake my head back and forth, my gaze moving down to my lap. I absolutely don’t want to hurt Sarah, but part of not hurting her has to include being honest with her, right? “I… I can’t fully trust you right now Sarah. I need to know that you’ll know the difference between me… I don’t know… struggling? shaking? saying no when I mean maybe? To know the difference between that and me experiencing too much. Me saying no and meaning N. O. no.”

When I look back up to Sarah, she seems to not only accept what I’m saying, but gets it. She’s smiling. Leaning toward me she puts her arm around my shoulders and hugs me close. “Sadie, I fully accept that, and I want you to feel safe when you wiggle and struggle and say no but mean ‘slow down’ instead. And the fact that we’ve set something up for that and you haven’t used it shows me just how much trust you used to have for me. But it’s a start and we can work from there.”

Sarah’s lips brush over my ear making me shiver in delight and anticipation when she whispers “Oklahoma”

At first, I’m just confused. It’s such a strange word at this moment. But it hits me quickly. The safe word. The word that I was given to say when things got too hard, and I needed to let Sarah know I was at my true limit. I relax and lean into her, realizing she’s right. I’d trusted her so much that I’d forgotten about it. I’d forgotten that I might need something like that. My answer is simply a nod and whispered, “Then yes, I trust you.”

“Sarah gives me a final squeeze before standing up, taking my hand, and leading me out of my room saying, “Good. Then come with me.”

Moments later, I’m on her bed, up on my hands and knees. I’m naked, wearing nothing besides the chastity cage and the blindfold. I’ve been here for a while as Sarah set other things up. Something on the bed in front of me. Something behind us. And I think she changed clothes. I’m trying not to shake, but I’m nervous and the more I sit here waiting, the more my mind gets to fill in the blanks with nightmares. I’m waiting for a girl to fuck me. To act like a man, to have me experience having a man fuck me.

I don’t hear Sarah approach the bed, but I feel her come up on it with me just before I feel her run her hand lightly down my back. Like one of those online posture meme posts, my back quickly arches, pushing my ass up and back and my breasts forward. I nibble at my lower lip as I feel Sarah’s hand slide over the curve of my ass. I can already tell that she’s using different techniques. Different ways to touch me. Normally I’d be squirming with the sensation of her nails on my sensitive flesh. Her palm on my rear would almost certainly mean her nails gliding into the cleft of my ass and maybe even tickling at my pucker. But now it’s just the pads of her fingers and her palm.

When I feel her pull my hair over to one side of my head, exposing my neck to her lips, I know that she’s tied her hair up and away as otherwise I’d have felt its softness brush against my shoulder or face. Now, all I feel are her lips. Her bare lips. No lipstick or lipgloss or even lipgel. Just her lips.

The smell hits me next. Sarah and I have been together for months now and I recognize her various scents. I know how she smells fresh out of the shower, clean with a little bit of antiperspirant, all her lotions and creams in place. I know how she smells when we go out, her perfume flowing in front of her, announcing her presence seconds before she’s visible. I know how she smells when she’s been streaming all day, under the hot lights, stressed out by a bad audience and a tough game and having to act like she’s all puppy dogs and sweetness. I even know how she smells after two or even three days of working. No showers, no cleaning… body odor doesn’t ever accompany a stream.

But this smell is something different. It’s not a perfume its… cologne? It’s musky and spicy, and a mixture of what Louis and Marley each wore. It’s not a natural scent of this house. They say scent plays a big role in memory and I can easily believe it as this masculine smell makes me think of the arcade with Louis. It makes me think of kissing him and Chris. It makes me think of our picnic and golfing and the costume party. A smell alone is making me think of Louis while I’m being touched and kissed.

Next, I feel that ache between my legs. No room for swelling, just that dull ache of arousal. The illogical part of my mind wants to write off the arousal as something merely physical. I’m naked on a bed, I’m being touched and caressed, I’m being kissed. Of course I’d become aroused. But there’s a deeper part of me that knows my own bullshit and it says I’m getting aroused because I’m imagining being on my hands and knees on this bed for Louis. That I smell him moving around me. That I feel his hands cupping my ass. That I feel his lips kissing their way from my collar bone up to my earlobe. And while those sensations can’t convey these feelings directly, they’re here regardless because they’re making me feel small and loved and protected. Things that being with Sarah never made me feel.

I’m pulled out of my reverie when the touching stops and I feel movement on the bed again. They’re moving up to my face. I can’t help but crane my neck and lean forward, wanting to kiss. Wanting to actively join in on this adventure instead of being passively taken care of. I feel fingers slide into my hair, a hand lightly cupping the side of my head. I purse my lips together, hearing my own small **** whine as I want to kiss them. Sarah or Louis, it’s not important as I simply want to kiss the person who’s touching me and making me feel special. And then it happens, my lips touch them!

My elation at kissing them suddenly drops. It’s not lips that I’m kissing, that I’m touching. I try to pull back, but the hand doesn’t allow me to distance myself. It doesn’t pull me forward, but it keeps my lips pressed to the head of the dildo. To the head of the cock. Suddenly, I’m back in that room. I’m back in Vegas. I’m not facing forward while blindfolded with a dildo pressed against my lips, I’m facing down with my eyes wide open with Marley’s cock pressed against my lips. And just as the tip of Marley’s cock spread his precum over my lips like so much lip gloss, this cock runs over my lips painting them Whore Red. Humiliation Scarlet. Cocksucker Crimson.

I briefly consider using the safety. Oklahoma. But just like telling Marley would have opened me up to being gagged on his cock, saying my safe word opens me up to being gagged on this cock. On this dildo. My body stiffening and my muffled mewling moaning complaint is the only response I can muster.

And then the hand in my hair doesn’t only let me pull away, it gently pushes me away. It gives me the breathing room I need. Still fearful, I breathe deeply through my nose while relaxing and feeling the person on the bed moving around me. Behind me.

Just as the hand on my back made me unconsciously pose, feeling those hands on my waist does the same thing. My back arches, my breasts push forward, my ass pushes back. They’re behind me, their knees between my legs. I only feel their rough jeans on my legs and their hands on my narrow waist, but I know what that position must look like. It’s the sexual position I’ve always thought of as erotic and sexy and hot. Doggystyle. I just always thought of myself as the man kneeling behind and gripping the waist of a hot chick, not as the hot chick with a guy behind me gripping my waist.

One hand remains on my waist, while the other starts moving the cock around on my plump ass. Two little playful smacks to my right cheek. Two to my left. The cock rests in the cleft of my ass, rubbing fore and back slightly and I can fell that the tip is moist. Wet. And I know what did that, what caused that. Cocksucker. It was me. I can’t stop the shiver running down my spine at the heady mix of emotions and thoughts running through me. As if they can read my mind, they rest against my ass and lean forward, again moving my hair out of the way so they can kiss at the back of my neck.

As I mewl in pleasure from the kisses, I feel the rough t-shirt on my bare back, and I can see why she made me wear the blindfold. I now have to consciously and purposefully think of this as Sarah. The jeans sliding against my legs. The t-shirt on my back. The cologne in my nose. The lips without her long hair. The hands without her long nails. She’s not the one touching me anymore. As I bite my lower lip and press my ass back against the shaft between my cheeks, I realize it’s him. It’s Louis behind me. That’s the easy path to think, to feel, to be.

When he straightens up and runs his hand up my back he puts very little pressure on it, but I move as he directs me. I move my arms so that I can cross them and lay my cheek atop them. My breasts press into the bedspread as I lay, face down ass up, and wiggle my hips for my lover.

The music makes me start but I calm back down as I recognize it. Music from the Halloween Dance. At the same time the cock moves, it’s shaft no longer sliding lengthwise between my cheeks. Instead, it points inward, dives between, presses against my pucker. It’s slicker than it was before, slippery. I can’t stop my reactions, even though I know the secret is to relax. Clenching up just makes it hurt when something is going to go inside of me back there. But clench I still do. I feel the pressure gradually increase and realize that he’s leaning forward, over my body again. I feel his hands in my hair and directs me to turn my face forward. When the blindfold’s knot is slipped and I feel is slide off my face I keep my eyes closed for just a moment longer, not wanting to ruin this fantasy that she’s worked so hard to make, that I’ve worked so hard to accept.

When my eyes do slip open my mouth quickly follows, opening in shock, and surprise, and amazement. I relax and as his cock slides into me it pushes a low sexy moan from my open lips. I’m looking right at a mirror and I see me. The wide eyed, open mouthed, pink haired beauty. Face down, ass up. And Louis is behind me.

My mind breaks for a moment as I feel him slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside of me. The low drawn out “uuuhhhnnnngghhhh” coming from me sounds so erotic that I feel my own arousal peak again. It’s him. It’s Louis. He has his jeans and shirt on from the Halloween party. He even has his vest on, although his backpack is missing. The mirror’s frame cuts him off right at the shoulders, so I can’t see his handsome caring face, but I know it’s there. It’s Louis, and he’s making love to me!

As Louis bottoms out in me, his balls pressing up against me, my mind breaks again a little. Everything is perfect. The touch, the feeling, the sound, the smell. There’s nothing here to take me out of the fantasy. Except the hands holding my waist and their long blue fingernails. The nails are held up, probably feeling awkward, but they’re still there.

It’s clearly not Louis behind me. Knowing that, I can see the curve of Sara’s breasts almost lost in the baggy t-shirt and covered by the vest. But once my eyes drift past the fingernails, once they look from the little hints of breasts, he’s back. Louis. And I’m again, being made love to by him.