A Night To Remember
Posted 22 December 2005
On Friday night, after nine years of faithful marriage to my husband Martin, I went out on a date with another man. While my husband sat and watched, I dressed for the occasion in front of the bedroom mirror, putting on a black latex buckled suspender belt, black fishnet seamed stockings, lace-edged black latex bra and briefs, a tight, short, rear-zipped leather skirt, and black courts with 5-inch heels.
For me, this slow preparation for the evening ahead was all part of the excitement. Inwardly I felt I had been building up to this moment all my adult life, and it's not in any way stretching things to say that it was as significant for me as the day I got married. Indeed it felt as if I were about to get married once more, this time to a true man rather than the submissive, small-pricked masturbator who had been masquerading as my equal partner for nearly a decade.
Combined with the excitement was trepidation and nervousness. Although deep down I felt that Matt and I would be making love within just a few hours, I couldn't be certain of this. He may have decided the whole thing was too risky for him or I might say something over dinner that would change his mind. A hundred different reasons that would turn the evening into disaster kept rushing through my head.
For this reason I really wished that I could have dressed in the most sexy and provocative outfit possible, one that would force him to overcome all reservations, no matter how deep-rooted they might be. Given complete freedom I just know that I could have made myself utterly irresistible, at least for just one night. Unfortunately I didn't have that luxury because we were going somewhere public and there were limits to how far I could go. Still, I did my best, and I knew that wearing a black leather skirt with stockings and suspenders was probably the best way of persuading Matt to throw caution to the winds.
The particular skirt I wore is one of the best that I own for showing suspenders outlined through the leather. Yes, it's blatant I know, completely lacking in subtlety, but I knew that as I sat in Matt's car or walked in front of him into the restaurant, he would be getting an eyeful of my garter straps, a preview of what was waiting for him if he invited me into his home. I wanted his prick to ache with desire.
I spent over two hours getting ready. Yes, two hours. Martin was very much part of the ritual. I stood over him with a whip as he polished my latex underwear to a brilliant, glossy shine. As he dutifully helped me into each of my garments I taunted him for his deficiencies and goaded him with ideas I had for later that evening. As he pulled my latex panties over my knees I stopped him and told him that before they were on he needed to ready me for Matt's cock. He was ordered to moisten and widen my vagina with his tongue in preparation for the large prick that would be in there later. As he unhesitatingly satisfied my wishes, I whipped him. I also laughed at what I told him was a pathetic excuse for a dick. Oh yes, I said, I can see you're turned on. Your prick's as big as I've ever seen it. The trouble is, it's still smaller than an average man's flaccid cock. You should be ashamed, as ashamed as I am that you're my husband.
Of course Martin's prick isn't that small, in length at least. The girth is definitely lacking but he's not nearly as inadequate as I make out. In his own eyes I think he now really believes he's very small, simply because he's seen me playing with so many oversized toys and he's had several years of me berating him for his lack of size and staying power. On top of that I make him wear devices that limit his erection. But the reality is that he's almost average, and I knew this could be a problem.
You see, that night the one great fear I had - the one thing I knew that would kill everything - was that Matt would not measure up.
In my fantasies he was always big, very big, and it seemed inconceivable that such a tall, broad, athletic man could be deficient in the very department that mattered to me most. It wasn't really going to ruin things if Matt wasn't the size that I'd had him in my mind, but what I knew I wouldn't be able to cope with was if Matt was no bigger, or God forbid even smaller, than Martin. Matt's striking looks and wonderful personality would count for nothing if he was short and it would without a doubt be my very worst nightmare - a cruel punishment indeed for the sin of matrimonial betrayal I was intending to commit. As I zipped myself into the leather skirt that Martin had polished the night before, I put this fear out of my mind once and for all. If it happens, it happens, and it's very unlikely that it will, I rationalised to myself.
The biggest regret I had about the evening was that Martin was not going to be there to witness me being penetrated. That moment, if it happened, was going to be profound for both of us and I so much wanted him to be present at the instant of his greatest humiliation: his cuckolding. I would still be Martin's legal wife, but as far as I was concerned I would no longer be his sexual one. In truth, Martin dropped that baton a long time ago and it would now be picked up by Matt who would consequently hold full sexual rights to me, an unwritten deed of ownership which, for me, is held by the man whom I allow to ejaculate his semen into my vagina.
In the end I found it hard to leave the house. I was so much enjoying parading in front of Martin, laughing as he pathetically played with himself. I kept asking him whether I looked okay. Was my hair perfect? Would Matt be able to see my suspenders? Did my breasts look desirable?
Even as I opened the door to get into my car for the drive to Matt's, I still couldn't stop it. Martin was standing at the front doorway, watching his sex-ready Mistress for as long as he could. I told him to drop his trousers and underpants and kneel. Leaving the car door open for a moment I walked back round to face him, standing with my hands on my hips, my face a picture of disdain.
"Wank yourself," I ordered, and without hesitation he immediately started masturbating.
"Look at me closely," I said. "Look at me dressed like this. The way you've always loved. The leather, the stockings, the high heels, the shiny bra and briefs. Not for you tonight, Martin. Oh no, tonight it's for someone much more special than you. Think about that, but don't wank too hard for too long, because I've no idea when I'll be back. Oh, and by the way, when Matt creams the first time, would you like it to be in my mouth, or do you want it in my pussy? What do you think?"
I didn't wait for him to answer and got into the car. That's how I left him as I drove past the front door towards the front gate. Even as I gave one last look in the mirror I saw that he was still there kneeling, his arm furiously working back and forth. It was a divine moment.
Martin did shoot some video of me getting ready to see Matt that night but the lighting was poor and the captures won't look good enough here. The following pictures were taken earlier this year and show me dressed in the identical outfit I wore on Friday, except for the top, which was more dressy than the daytime one I'm wearing in these shots (incidentally, the top in these pictures is actually black, but for some reason the camera has picked it up as brown).
It took me about 20 minutes to drive to Matt's house, an executive home on the fringe of a fairly new exclusive development. Matt had booked a table some 25 miles away from any of our local haunts and his house was on the way so it made sense for me to go to his place first. By now I was really up for it. The fears were subsiding, to be replaced by relish as I increasingly convinced myself that Matt and I wouldn't be going out tonight if he didn't want things to progress to a new stage.
I parked my car on his driveway, got out and straightened my skirt as best I could, and with my heart racing I walked up and knocked on his door. He opened it almost immediately and there was a moment of slight embarrassment as we first saw each other. Matt was the first to snap out of it and he greeted me with a gentle hug and kiss on the cheek before inviting me inside.
"Come in for a minute, I just want to get my jacket."
I stepped inside the doorway as he disappeared into what looked like the lounge area. Do we have to go out? I remember thinking. Eating your prick would fill me up nicely, thanks.
He returned almost straight away, working his arms into his jacket.
"Wow, you look wonderful," he said. "I was sort of hoping you'd wear what you wore in London last week but you look just as fabulous tonight. Where on earth do you get all your clothes?"
"Well, not in the usual places," I said. "You have to shop around and keep looking. It takes a lot of time, but it's worth it in the end."
"I'll say," he laughed. "C'mon, let's go."
It's funny how you blinker your mind to certain possibilities when trying to anticipate events. It may seem a somewhat trivial point, but in all my mental preparation for that night I'd always imagined me talking over dinner about my relationship with Martin. It simply hadn't occurred to me that we'd be driving for nearly forty minutes before we got to the restaurant. And almost as soon as we were on the road, Matt brought up the subject. He asked how Martin felt now about things, once the reality of me going out was finally upon him.
I'd decided a week ago that I was going to come clean about Martin and me, but I would leave out (at least for the present) the femdom aspect of our marriage. I wanted Matt to understand the development of Martin's desire to see me having relations with someone else and how that desire had gradually grown in me as well. So for most of the car journey I basically related what you've already read in my first two diary entries, minus the boot licking and whips. I also toned down any discussion of fetish wear and sex toys. I was very calm in the way I talked and Matt just drove without much interruption. I got the impression that he was fascinated by what he was hearing. Also (although this may have been wishful thinking) I thought I saw him tense up a few times when I described how much I enjoyed wearing sexy clothing and underwear, and how I got off on all the attention.
It probably seems strange that I was so open but Matt gave no indication that he thought I was being too forward. Remember that we've always had this sort of bond, almost as if we trust and understand each other despite having such infrequent contact. I don't really know how to describe why I was completely comfortable in telling him about the more private aspects of my life. It didn't even occur to me.
Even though I didn't want to go into the dominant aspects of my character that night, I did feel it important to give Matt an insight into how Martin viewed the evening. My worry was that Matt would feel he was being manipulated by my husband, simply used as a vehicle to help him enjoy his particular kink. After all, Martin is a successful businessmen and his submissive nature isn't at all obvious. I therefore made it clear that Martin was in effect suffering a humiliation by me going out with someone else. It was the humiliation of a man not being able to satisfy his wife, and yet he undoubtedly drew sexual pleasure from this.
Matt said he accepted that the desire existed and that in fact he thought it to be quite common, but he would never be able to understand the psychology behind it.
"I just can't get it. Why on earth would you want to let someone else play around with someone as beautiful as you? I'd go nuts at the thought."
All the same, he said, it maybe wasn't that different than a husband who wanted his wife to take part in a threesome with another guy. He'd always felt that such a man was like a gambler who wanted to lose. Deep down he wanted his wife to enjoy greater satisfaction with the interloper, and then would get some sort of kick from being jealous about it.
"I'll be honest with you," he then said, "it's the jealousy aspect of all this that I've misgivings about. How can you be sure how Martin will react if you... well, you know, if you..."
"I know exactly how he'd react," I said confidently. "He'd love it. It would be like a dream come true for him."
I felt it wouldn't make sense unless I delved a little more deeply into the domination aspect of my marriage.
"Martin wants me to stray so I can then belittle him. I know you can't really get to grips with this, but he wants to be humiliated, he wants me to laugh at him and boast of my adventures. You also maybe won't be able to understand that I would get a huge kick out of taunting him too. And I mean a huge kick."
He shook his head and there was a look of complete puzzlement on his face.
"You're right. I just don't get it."
I laughed then, and so did Matt. I can now appreciate how bizarre my desires must seem to any readers who have stumbled across this diary without coming here as a result of searching for 'dominant wife' or 'cuckold' sites.
"Yep, it seems crazy, I know. But at least you now know what I'm like, and I take it you won't discuss this with anyone else."
He became quite serious then:
"Look, I really appreciate you telling me what you just said. I may not be able to get my head round all of it, but I've got to say it actually sounds... well, exciting, I suppose. And you know I wouldn't tell anyone else. No way."
And that was it really as far as the relationship discussion went. I shut up after that because I knew that there was nothing more I could say to make Matt understand the situation. He obviously had fears of where this could all lead to but at the same time he was clearly intrigued - even turned on perhaps - by the cuckolding scenario and how I got a sexual kick from the thought of it.
At the restaurant we talked about a wide range of subjects, but nothing too deep. I think my revelations in the car had been enough introspection for both of us. However I did learn more about the acrimonious end to Matt's marriage and although I was obviously hearing only one side of the story, I could see why he was now so bitter about things. However I'm not going to discuss here what he told me. It's not something he would ever want repeating.
By the time we were eating our dessert I had begun to feel very nervous. I was trying to concentrate on what Matt was talking about but my thoughts kept drifting to what might happen within just a couple of hours. The way Matt had been talking to me and looking at me told me that he was up for this. He wanted me, despite the potential drawbacks. For my own part though I suddenly felt pangs of guilt. You're not betraying Martin, I had to keep saying to myself, it's what he wants. Even though this was true, I began to feel a little cheap. Was I just acting like a slut? I wasn't exactly playing hard to get was I? I had practically thrown myself at Matt.
These doubts evaporated instantly when we stood up to leave the restaurant. Matt was getting my coat and I was standing waiting by the table. I noticed that two of the waiters were standing by the doorway to the kitchen looking at me and it was obvious that I was the focus of a discussion they were having. Then I saw that people on several tables were also looking. The men were eyeing me up and down; the women were giving me dagger looks.
I simply loved the moment. I knew that my suspenders were glaringly open to view through the tight, shiny skirt, and I deliberately ran my hands over the leather as if smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed as I had been sitting. This simply emphasised the suspenders even more.
That's it boys, I thought as I saw the men focusing on that area. let's get those pricks nice and hard. Shame though, you'll only be able to shove them up your stony-faced bitch wives tonight, because I'm busy elsewhere.
When Matt came back I had the sexiest look on my face and it was a genuinely erotic moment as he helped me put on my coat in front of all those onlookers. My eyes must have sparkled with mirth. Gorgeous, isn't he? I thought as I ignored the glacial stares from the women around me. Tough, because he's mine.
As we made our way to the doorway I realised that to many of them I must have come across as a prostitute. An elegant, sophisticated prostitute no doubt, but a prostitute nevertheless. And you know what? I loved the thought of that, and that told me all I needed to know about whether I was doing the right thing.
We got into the car, and once again something unexpected happened. I'd been wondering how Matt and I would break the ice when we got to his house. I was expecting a period of embarrassment as each of us waited for the other to make a move. But as I turned my head back from fastening my seat belt I found that Matt had turned towards me.
"Hey," he said, and then he leaned forward and kissed me. It was out of the blue, but it was a beautiful moment. It wasn't some frantic rip-your-clothes-off frenzy of pent up lust, but a slow meeting of the lips, with the merest touch at first. I made the moment last as long as possible, closing my eyes and just giving the softest contact I could.
After several seconds we both began to open our mouths more and before long our tongues were exploring each other. It was so heavenly. Matt put his hand on my waist and I moved my left hand around the back of his head, pulling him towards me. We must have kissed like this for two minutes or more before he eventually pulled back.
"I think we'd better get back to your place," I said breathlessly, trying to keep as calm as possible. "I want your prick in my mouth."
Matt thrust his head back and muttered an expletive, then started the engine and drove away. Fortunately he kept his cool enough to drive sensibly and I didn't make the mistake of trying to massage him while he was at the wheel. Several times I stroked his leg gently with my hand, but that was all.
As soon as we got inside his front door we started kissing again and this time it was far more intense. He pushed me back against the door and thrust himself against me, holding my head in both his hands. I pushed forward with my hips so I could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into me and I also began to move up and down, using my leather skirt to lightly masturbate him as we tasted each other again.
Soon Matt's hands were groping everywhere. He rubbed them down the sides of my skirt, feeling the suspender clips through the leather. Then he moved them round to feel my bottom, pulling hard to force me even tighter against him. Next came my breasts, first feeling them through the top I was wearing, then lifting it up so that they were exposed.
"Fucking incredible," he said as he saw them encased in their tight latex prison. It's a lovely bra, a very feminine one despite being made of rubber, primarily due to the lace detail all around it. Matt couldn't seem to get enough of holding the breasts and rubbing the shiny latex. Then he bent his head and started kissing the tops of them. I was desperate for him to start sucking my nipples, but it was almost as if he knew this and was tormenting me by delaying the moment. But then it came, and he pulled one bra cup down a little to expose the nipple. After teasing the end with his tongue he finally took it into his warm mouth and began to gently suck.
I just closed my eyes and said "Oh, yes," as he did this, and I gave him his reward, moving my hand to the front of his trousers and rubbing it up and down against his cock.
I still couldn't be sure, but he felt big to me. Please, I thought, just be bigger than Martin.
I moved my hand higher so I could put it inside the waistband of his trousers and as I reached down I took hold of his prick for the first time. I felt like screaming with excitement as I realised that all my fears were groundless. Matt had a more than adequate prick, that much I at least knew.
"Oh my God," I said as I felt down the shaft, "you are a big boy aren't you?"
I undid his belt and unzipped him, then lifted his prick out of his shorts. "I want to see your cock," I gasped and I pushed him away from me so I could set eyes on what had been my fantasy for the past few months.
"Fantastic," I said as I saw it at last, and there was no hiding the wonderment in my expression or voice. "You make Martin look tiny."
I really meant it. Although Matt's prick is only two inches or so longer than my husband's, the girth is dramatically different, making it appear hugely bigger.
Matt must have wondered what was going on and why this meant so much to me, but he didn't interrupt and it even looked as if he was getting harder still.
"Let's go in the lounge," I said, and I led the way. As I walked in I stripped off my top and threw it to the floor. When Matt reached me we started kissing again and I loosened his trousers so they fell down, and also pulled down his shorts.
"Sit down," I told him, and when he had done so I knelt down and cupped his engorged prick in the palm of my left hand whilst also holding it just below the head with my right.
"I've always dreamed of seeing a prick like this," I said to him, not talking my eyes away from his phallus. "I can't describe how gorgeous it is. You'll have to excuse me but this is going to take a while..."
And then I began to make love to Matt's cock. I really mean 'make love'. Over a period of about twenty minutes or so I kissed it, licked it, masturbated it, squeezed it and sucked it. For a moment I pushed my hips forward and rubbed the head all over the front of my skirt, leaving shiny patches of pre-cum on the leather. Then I knelt once more and gave him a sucking in earnest, moving my head back and forth as I mouth-masturbated him towards climax. I even tried to throat him, but there was no way I was going to get far with that. I've never been able to do this to Martin or with sex toys, and so there was no hope of doing it to Matt.
Matt was loving it, goading me on and saying things like: "What a fantastic mouth" and "C'mon, eat it bitch." After a while he closed his eyes and sat there groaning with pleasure as I worked him towards release.
"Stop it, Maria, I'm going to come," he eventually said anxiously, but this just made me suck and bob my head faster. Any moment now, I thought with relish. Any moment now it's going to explode in my mouth.
But Matt didn't allow it to happen. Just at the point where his cock began to pulsate with impending ejaculation he roughly pushed my head away, forcing his prick out of my mouth.
"No, not yet," he said firmly, struggling a bit for breath. "I want to make sure you get the best fucking I can give you."
I gave a look of real disappointment. "Oh, but it's so lovely," I said with regret, my hand now gently stroking it. "I can hardly get my mouth round it. I can't tell you what a turn on it is to see and taste a cock like yours."
I stood up and unzipped the rear of my skirt, then hitched it up as I climbed on to the couch, kneeling with my legs astride him. With the front of the skirt now loose, I wrapped it around his huge shaft and pulled tightly so that the leather was stretched around his prick.
"Oh, look at that, "I said. "A fabulous leather-covered cock. One day you're going to screw me with a leather sheath on your prick. It's always been a dream of mine to be fucked by leather."
I leaned forward to kiss him again. "Would you like to do that, my baby?"
"You're unbelievable," he gasped just before our mouths met again.
I then reached behind me and undid my skirt, pulling it away and letting it fall on the floor. Matt pushed me away a bit so he could look at me and he shook his head with amazement.
"The stuff you wear," he said. "It's just awesome."
"I'm wearing it at work when you see me," I told him. "Satin, PVC, leather, rubber - anything shiny. I love shiny clothing."
I grabbed his cock, hitched myself forward, and began stroking the head against my glossy latex briefs. Matt moaned, and I then pressed it harder, pushing it right against my vagina. He played with my breasts as I massaged it there for a bit, and then I said:
"Fuck me, Matt. I haven't had a cock in me for three years. I want yours right now."
"Do you want to go upstairs?" he said.
But I'd already decided how and where I wanted it. There was a writing desk against the nearby wall and I nodded towards it.
"No, I want to sit on the edge of the desk there while you do me. I want to see everything. I want to watch your cock slide in. I want to be able to tell Martin that I witnessed every inch of your dick go up me."
I got up and pulled my panties down in front of him. After picking up a cushion from the chair I then went over to the desk and sat on it, leaning back with the cushion propped between my head and the wall. Next I spread my legs wide open and eased myself forward a little so my pussy was just beyond the edge of the desk.
"Fuck me," I pleaded. "Fuck me senseless. Don't hold back."
Matt got up and went over to his jacket. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a condom.
"No," I implored. "Please don't wear one. I've taken all the precautions, believe me. I want your sperm in me. If you ejaculate in me you own me, and I want to be able to tell Martin that I'm your fuck-slut now."
I'm not sure where the 'fuck-slut' came from - I just blurted it out without thinking - but this seemed to touch something in Matt. The muscles on his face tightened and the look of lust he gave me was intense. On another table near him was a cordless phone and he picked it up, walked over to me, and thrust it into my hand.
"Call him," he said.
I was taken by surprise and just froze. What he was suggesting didn't register at first.
"Go on, call him," he repeated forcefully.
Then the penny dropped and in reflex I thrust my hand against my vagina and began masturbating as the sheer audacity of Matt's intention struck home.
"Oh yes," I exclaimed. "Oh YES! Thank you, oh thank you so much. Incredible!"
I dialled one-handed, my other hand too busy to move it from its current task. Then I waited as the ringing started. Four rings I guessed. That's how long it would take Martin to get from his bedroom to the phone on our upstairs landing. He actually picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?" he said. Puzzled, and concerned.
"It's me," I said breathlessly. "It's okay, I'm at Matt's. I'm ringing because any second now he's going to penetrate me. I'm just about to be fucked by a gorgeous, huge prick."
"Oh God," Martin blurted, and I found out later that he had reflexively dropped to his knees in response to my words.
At this point I was so overcome with emotion that I almost started crying.
"It's fantastic, Martin. Just fantastic. I've had his prick in my mouth. I've sucked it and licked it. He almost came in my mouth but pulled away at the last moment because he wants to save his cum for when he fucks me. His prick is unreal. You're so small in comparison. He's a real man. A real man's going to fuck me."
Matt didn't seem to show any puzzlement that I was taunting and belittling Martin so openly. In fact he looked more turned on than ever, and he finally pressed his cock against me.
[Excuse the language, but these were my words.]
"Oh God!" I almost shouted. "His prick's rubbing against my cunt! It's going to go in!"
And then I felt Matt's beautiful shaft go into me. It was a sensation I'd never felt before. I've had sex toys as big, but it's not the same. You can't replicate the feel of a real prick.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, Yes! Oh my God it's fabulous! I can't believe it! Yes! That's it! More! Give me more! Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME! Ahhh..."
And Matt did fuck me. What a screwing. I lifted up my legs and wrapped them as best as I could around him while he pumped his cock back and forth. Eventually he managed to get full penetration and it was the most incredible feeling as his massive prick ruined the chances of small-dicked men ever giving me pleasure.
He even joined in with the dirty talk:
"Like that do you? This is what I should've given you a long time ago. I've seen how you walk around the office cock-teasing the men. And tonight at the restaurant. And in London last week. Yeah, especially London. I should've taken you upstairs there and fucked you stupid. That's your problem. You're not being shafted enough."
But I was only half listening. I was in a state of near delirium, and I knew I couldn't hold on much longer.
"I'm going to come," I said, talking to Matt really, although Martin heard it down the phone. "I want to last longer, but I've got to come."
"Just hold on," Matt said. "Just a little longer and I'll come with you."
I just closed my eyes then and experienced the bliss of the best intercourse I've ever had. I knew I was going to have a massive orgasm. It wasn't just the wonderful screwing I was being given, it was the significance of the moment. The erotic perfection of a lover ejaculating into me with my husband listening as witness to the moment of his cuckolding.
Matt suddenly tensed up and the next few thrusts were even harder.
"Yes, yes!" he said, and I didn't need to hear any more. I knew he was going to climax and at last I could let myself go. I screamed with delight as I let the release come, a wave of intense pleasure that spread through my body. A moment later Matt came. I couldn't feel the semen ejaculating but I could feel his cock pulsing as he unloaded his cum into me. It was an unforgettable moment, one of the greatest of my life.
About thirty seconds later Matt collapsed on to me, exhausted. He softly kissed my breasts as I stroked his hair, both of us taking deep breaths as we tried to recover.
Martin had remained silent throughout everything, but I knew - and he confirmed it later - that he would have been masturbating right from when he first answered my call. He came soon after we did and I could hear his laboured breathing and grunts down the phone.
"How does it feel, cuckold?" I taunted between breaths. "How does it feel to know a much bigger, better man has just given your wife a fucking that you'll never be able to give her? Has given her pleasure that you can't match? Has left her wanting more of the same in different positions, which is what we'll be doing over the next few hours? What's it like to be an inadequate loser?"
And then I clicked the 'off' button to kill the call.
Matt looked at me quizzically, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.
"That was a bit cruel."
"It's what he wanted," I assured him. "He'll be masturbating all night long now. Trust me."
I pulled Matt towards me and gave him a long, loving kiss.
"Thank you," I said. "Thank you for the best screw I've ever had. Thank you for the idea of making that call. I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that Martin listened in on the moment of his humiliation. And I'll never forget the ecstasy I felt when you came in me. Thank you."
I'll continue relating what happened that evening in a later post. I won't dwell too much on what I did with Matt because it's all fairly predictable really, but I will tell you what happened when I returned home on Saturday morning.
This has been by far the most difficult entry to write so far. For a start it's hard to even get through a couple of paragraphs without having to pleasure myself as memories of the evening come flooding back. Also I don't think I've come even close to properly articulating the wonderful pleasure I experienced that night, or just how sensational Matt's prick is. I haven't seen him since last Friday (my choice, not his) and I'm now aching to have his cock in me again. I'm also looking forward to having him ejaculate in my mouth. I think it's really important that I kneel before him and perform this act of homage. I want him to take charge of me and thus be able to humiliate Martin even more by demonstrating that I'm not necessarily dominant with every man.
I'm due to see Matt again tomorrow and this time we won't be going out, leaving me free to dress for sex.
I just hope he likes kinky whores.
|To contact me, email maria at this site|