Relationships are strange and unique and never cease to surprise and fascinate me. I often think of a woman I saw on and off back when I was dating a lot in my early thirties. Let’s call her Julie.
I met Julie on OkCupid, and we exchanged a few messages, but I wasn’t really sure if we had chemistry. We decided to meet up and see a movie, which was unusual for me because I preferred to meet people for drinks or coffee. Something non-committal that we could both feel free to leave if we didn’t feel like we connected. Still, she said she was a huge movie buff, and so I agreed to see an indie film with her.
We met in front of an old theatre downtown, and I was surprised that she was prettier than her pictures, which were lovely. She was tall, well, taller than me, at least. 5’9” with particularly good posture. She had shoulder-length, very straight light brown hair and green eyes, and a somewhat athletic build. There was a certain formality in her mannerisms.
There was an awkwardness to her. We could have little fits of conversation, and then things would fall into long, somewhat uncomfortable silences.
The movie was excellent and thought-provoking, and afterward had a long conversation about it over drinks. She was very sweet and smart and pretty in a wholesome cute sort of way. I never really got the vibe that I should kiss her.
We hugged goodbye, and I didn’t know if I’d go out with her again. Randomly a few weeks later, she asked if I wanted to see another movie. She said she liked having a “movie buddy.” This time it was early in the day, a 1 pm Sunday show.
We went and had a fun time. We didn’t talk much after, just a hug and a peck on the cheek after. I thought the time of the movie and the “movie buddy” comment made it clear our outings were non-romantic.
It went on like that for a few months. Random movies, sometimes lunch, no flirting over texts, though sometimes she would email me a movie review or an article about something we talked about, and I did the same.
One day I saw that there was a showing of Romance by Catherine Breillat. It was far more sexually explicit than other things we had seen. There were full-on sex scenes with full-frontal nudity. I sent her a link and asked if she was interested. She immediately replied that she was.
“It’s a bit more risqué than things we usually see. Are you sure?” I wrote.
“I love Breillat’s work! I’m comfortable with it if you are,” she replied.
We met in front of the theatre as always. Coincidentally, it was the same place we had seen the first movie together.
She dressed somewhat conservatively but not prudishly. She wore full-length dresses, didn’t show a lot of cleavage, and usually had subtle natural makeup. That night, though, she wore a dress that was tight and a bit low cut on top and knee-length.
Light blue eyeshadow and a pink lip gloss made her look a bit younger than usual. She smiled brightly when she saw me, and we went in.
I couldn’t read her. It was both frustrating and arousing. I spent the whole movie squirming in my seat, wondering if I should make a move. I felt like a high school kid who was going to yawn and put his arm around someone.
We watched the movie, and when the most explicit scenes arrived, I watched her bite her bottom lip and shift in her chair. I wondered if she was getting as turned on as I was. I was desperate to know what was in her head.
When the movie was over, it was late, and we hugged and parted ways.
“I can’t wait to find out your thoughts on the movie. Email me!” She said as we went our separate ways.
When we emailed the next day, I wrote, “It’s always fun seeing movies with you, though sometimes I wonder if you might want to go off somewhere with me and make out or something. Sorry to ask over email, but you are a bit difficult to read in person.”
Her reply came an hour later “I had a great time at the movie with you last night. I can’t stop thinking about that movie today, which is a bit distracting at work! LOL. Of course, I’m up for meeting up for makeouts and such. Actually, that sounds very fun. I guess I’m kind of inscrutable, but I think that’s part of my charm.”
I read and reread the message. She said she was interested in making out. What else?
I didn’t want to make that much of a deal about it. I thought I should stay casual. I wrote to her that evening, asking her what she was up to. She replied, “I’m actually house-sitting for my aunt and watching her cats. She has a fancy place right near Central Park!”
I wrote a reply before I could stop myself.
“That sounds cool. Could I come over there and make out with you?”
Her reply came just as fast, which made my heart race.
“Yes, that would be nice. Maybe you could stop by around tomorrow around 8?”
Positive, but still difficult to decipher. Or was it? Maybe I was just an idiot
All that day, I tried to figure out what was going on. She was so seemingly shy and not particularly sexual. Early the next day, I texted her to try and clear things up.
“Sorry, I don’t want to be forward, but I’m just having trouble figuring you out. By ‘makeout,’ are we talking about kissing or more?”
“It can be more if you want,” she replied almost immediately.
“Like sex? I mean, I don’t want to corner you into anything. I just want to know if sex is in the realm of possibilities.”
“Sure. I like sex.”
I looked at my phone. Confusional, arousal, or a mix of both. I didn’t know what I was feeling.
As I was getting ready to leave work, she texted again.
“I’m excited to see you this evening. I was just hopping in the shower and wondered how you like your women groomed?”
“Groomed?” I replied, my mind boggled.
“Like, their pubic hair. Leave some? Shave it all off?” She asked.
I read the message and reread it a few times.
“I very much like it completely shaved, but whatever makes you comfortable,” I wrote.
As I waited for the train, the next message came.
“To be clear, I like to be told what to do. I’ll let you know if you ask me to do something that is too much. But I really like taking a submissive role. Like with the shaving. I really enjoy being told how to groom myself. So this evening, if you would like, you can tell me to do things. I have a lot of trouble initiating, but I’m good at letting people know my boundaries. Does that make sense?”
I read her message and went back and reread all of her messages as I rode the train uptown.
As I walked from the train, I wrote, “That makes perfect sense. I do like the idea of telling you what to do.”
“Please do.”
“I’d like you shaved bare. I’d like you to wear the same dress you wore when we saw the last movie together, only with no bra and no panties.”
“That is wonderfully specific and exactly the kind of instructions I enjoy.”
The apartment was in a very fancy building near Central Park. I told the doorman my name, and he replied that I was expected. I walked into the opulent lobby and found a gilded elevator that took me to her floor. She was waiting at the door, at the end of a long hall.
She was wearing the dress I asked her to wear. Her breasts weren’t very large, and I looked for some evidence of her not wearing a bra, but I wasn’t sure.
“Come on in. Can I get you some water or some drink?” She asked sweetly, walking me around the lavish but somewhat small apartment.
I smiled and got shown around, confused by her casual and sort of just-friends attitude. I knew it was going to be up to me to make the first move, but when and how?
She showed me to her aunt’s little bar cart and told me I was welcome to anything.
Julie didn’t drink, and I wanted to keep my wits about me, so I took a very small glass of very good scotch and added some water to open it up.
She showed me around the extravagant two-bedroom apartment, and I wondered if Julie had grown up in such luxury.
Her tone was casual, not flirty, and I planned my first move.
When we ended up back in the living room, I sat down on the couch, and before she joined me, I stopped her and looked up at her with a smile.
“Thank you for wearing the dress I requested,” I said, sitting back and sipping my scotch.
She smiled and did a small spin to show me.
“Did you do everything else I asked?”
She seemed to blush a little as she nodded.
“Could you show me?”
She smiled pleasantly and said, “Of course.”
Then she turned and went to the window and drew the curtains closed.
She came back and stood in front of me again, seeming nervous and excited. She had a big smile but didn’t meet my eyes.
She leaned forward and took the hem of her dress in her hands and then stood up straight and pulled her dress up for me.
She always seemed to wear long dresses, and so I’d never really gotten a good look at her legs. They were long, with muscular calves and somewhat thick thighs. Her hips were wide, and between those hips was a smooth v of slightly reddened skin.
There was something about a hairless pussy that really turned me on. I think it was the expectation of a patch of hair and its absence making everything look more naked. On top of that, was that she shaved it specifically at my behest. That gave me a wave of power. Control over her pretty body.
“Ah, yes. That is exactly what I wanted,” I said with a sigh.
I looked into her blushing face and smiled.
“Can I make sure you did a good job?” I asked, leaning forward.
She swallowed and nodded, taking a step closer. I lifted my hand and very softly rubbed my thumb across her pubis. She took a sharp intake of breath.
I examined her. It thrilled me in a way I wasn’t really prepared for. The consensual objectification.
I looked up at her. She held her dress up for me and bit her bottom lip, watching me examine her pussy.
My thumb slipped over the lips, and I felt a few slight bits of stubble. I considered bringing it up but decided to wait.
“Lovely, though I’ll have to check more thoroughly in a bit,” I said, standing up.
She dropped her dress and looked into my eyes.
“And I had another request if I remember correctly.”
“No bra. Done,” she said with a smile.
I reached up and put my hand on her side. She seemed to press against my palm. I moved it up her side and then to her right breast. I could feel the softness through the thin fabric, and my fingers found her nipple quickly, and I gave it a little pinch.
“Very good,” I said and watched her eyes light up again.
“I wish I had known you were such a good girl earlier. There were so many things I could have used you for,” I said, continuing to fondle her breast, then moving to the other.
“I like to be useful,” she said, her voice becoming dreamy.
“I can see that. I’m going to sit back on the couch, and I’d like you on my lap, facing me. So we can do some of that making out we’ve been talking about,” I said, sitting and then watching as she somewhat awkwardly straddled my lap.
My hands slipped under her dress and rested on the tops of her thighs. Her skin felt hot. Face to face, she looked prettier than I remembered her. Gorgeous green eyes, pouting lips. I pulled her forward a little, and then our lips met.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around me. It was a soft, sweet first kiss. It overwhelmed me a little with its intensity. I was thinking of the kiss on my lap as some new game to have her play, but once we started kissing, it was like a drug hit my veins.
As we kissed, she moved closer, and I slipped my hands around to her ass, squeezing it and pulling her closer.
She let out little moans as we kissed. As it grew in intensity and our mouths opened, and her tongue slipped against me. My cock was hard, and she pressed down against it.
When we finally parted for air, I was face to face with a completely different Julie. A panting, red-cheeked, glazed-eyed, hungry and transformed girl.
“Hm, there she is. There is the girl I’ve been wanting to meet,” I said, relishing our shared drunkenness. She smiled dreamily.
As I kissed her cheek and moved to her neck, she suddenly gasped. Her arms and thighs tightened around me. When my lips grazed her neck just under her ear, she let out a gasping whimper of pleasure.
I smiled into her sweet-smelling skin. I’d experienced the phenomenon before. Certain people just lost it when you kissed their necks. More control over her. I squeezed her ass again and kissed her neck more, listening to her squeal and feeling her squirm.
When we went back to making out, she attacked me with kisses. Her pillow-soft lips pressed hard against my mouth.
“Fuck I need to breathe; you are too much,” I laughed, slipping from under her and standing up and stretching.
I turned and saw her frowning, big eyes about to cry.
“Was I bad?” She said with a quivering lip.
“No! No, you were perfect. I meant I was overwhelmed with the kisses. Fuck you are a good kisser.”
Her frown melted into a grin.
“Me? I almost, I mean, the kissing and then my neck, I almost came,” she said, seeming to brim with both pride and shame.
“Oh really? Now that is interesting. I’m glad you were able to control yourself. I’d really like it if you didn’t come until I give you permission. Do you think you can do that?”
She pouted. It was unlike any expression I had seen her make before. Her façade of calm control was gone. She stomped her foot a little and screwed up her face.
“I-I’ll try. It’s very difficult for me to control,” she mumbled.
“Oh? That is a shame. I think I may be able to help, though.”
She looked a little worried about that.
“I think it’s time for us to go to the bedroom,” I said, unbuttoning my shirt.
She nodded and led me back to the well-decorated room with the huge bed that stood almost three feet high.
I took off my dress shirt and kicked off my shoes. I wore black slacks and a white T-shirt.
“Take off your dress for me,” I said, repressing my instinct to ask her to do it. She wanted to be told what to do.
She bit her lip and reached behind her, struggling a bit with the zipper. I liked to see her struggle.
Then her dress fell to the floor, and she fidgeted in place, her arms at her sides.
Such a sight. I mean, to have a woman strip for you is one thing, but to have this person you have come to know as a friend, give you the very keys to her body, to tell you how much she wants to be told what to do and how much she loves being obedient. I didn’t know what to do first.
She stepped out of her dress and looked at me for more instructions.
“Do you think it’s appropriate to leave your nice dress on the floor like that?” I asked.
Her eyes blushed.
“Oh, no, you’re right, sorry,” she said, turning and picking it up and rushing to the closet to hang it.
Her blush went down her chest, between her breasts. She looked younger naked, even more nervous, and more vulnerable. Some women became sultry, catlike, and lithe when naked. Julie grew timid and innocent, which made her obedience seem somehow forbidden.
Her breasts were not large, but part, and her nipples were fat and puffy. Her body was athletic, though she had a wonderful little belly that pouched out. Her hips were wide, and her ass was round and wonderfully pronounced.
I just studied her. Like a dessert, I was about to consume. I felt like the luckiest man alive to have this obedient, pretty young thing.
“Climb up on the bed and get on all fours. With your ass facing me.” I said as I took off my socks and then my belt.
She eyed my belt as I took it off, and that made me curious. I coiled it and put it on the bed. Then I took off my pants and laid them over a chair.
In a T-shirt and boxers, I stood next to the bed.
“What do you think we should do about dropping your clothes on the floor?” I asked, standing behind her, my eyes on her bare split pussy and ass.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I guess you should do whatever you want,” she said, which wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I appreciated her singular desire to be obedient.
“I’m going to spank you for that,” I said, putting my hand on her ass.
She got up on her knees and turned; then she sat facing me.
“If you want to hit me, then you can hit me. You don’t need to construct a reason why. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. I want to be a good girl. I want you to call me a good girl. If you spank, I can take it for you like a good girl,” she said with calm seriousness.
I nodded.
“Thank you for being so frank with me,” I said. And kissed her lightly on the lips. “You are absolutely being a wonderful girl for me. I’ve been delighted by everything you’ve done so far,” I said, my hand moving to her bare ass and squeezing it, surprised by how round and soft it was.
I spanked her once and then twice, and she closed her eyes and winced. I rubbed the reddening spot where I spanked, and she relaxed. I spanked her a few times and watched her whole body tense again. She didn’t seem particularly into pain, but she wanted to be good for me, and that was very compelling.
I slipped my fingers between her thighs and winced in pleasure as I felt how wet she had gotten from just the light spanking.
“I think I have a good way for you to show me what a good girl you are,” I said, slipping from under her and standing up.
She looked up at me, bright eyed and hopeful.
“Why don’t you sit up for me?” I asked, and her face seemed to light up. She liked getting directions, and it thrilled me. I found myself constructing little plans. Little things I could make her do. Wondering how far I could take things.
“Sit up straight, feet on the bed, knees bent. Legs a little further apart,” I directed, watching as she intently moved around, trying to get exactly in the position I was describing.
She looked perfect, with her small, pert breasts sticking out proudly and her bare pussy thrust out for me to see.
“Now, I want you to put on a little show for me. I want you to lean back, push your hips out and masturbate for me.”
I watched her face as her desire to be obedient seemed to war with her self-consciousness. After a moment, though, she repositioned herself so that she could lean against the headboard. She put a pillow behind her back and spread her legs wide for me.
“Talk me through what you do. Do you need a toy?” I said, laying on the other side of the bed so that I had a perfect view.
“No, not usually. I just use my fingers,” she explained. Her cheeks were red, her eyes somewhat unfocused, lust and shyness seeming to make her dizzy.
Her pussy was pretty, coral and rosé pinks. Well shaved, her soft tan skin smooth, and the bareness between her legs making her look extra naked, extra lewd.
As her hands moved to her inner thighs, her eyes became even more far away. I liked that. I liked her awareness of me becoming dimmer as she lost herself to her pleasure. It was closer to true voyeurism. Watching an intimate moment. Seeing what her pleasure looked like.
“Now, I want you to explain to me what you are doing and why. Be specific about what you are touching and how it feels and what you need to make yourself come,” I demanded cooly.
She swallowed, processing my instructions. I wondered if it was too much if she was too shy to talk, but she seemed the thrive when given very specific orders. She rubbed for a moment, almost experimentally, chewing on her bottom lip, and her fingers worked.
“So, okay,” she said, her breath a little hitched and her words coming out broken. “So my, um, clit is super sensitive, so I can’t really rub it directly. At least not at first. So I rub just above it in little circles.”
As she described it, I watched her fingers press into the area just above her vulva. Her eyes rolled back a little as her fingers circled. I felt a smile spread across my face as I witnessed the intimate act.
“Keep going. Tell me what happens next, but I don’t want you to come yet. You’re doing perfectly, though. Wonderfully. I’m enjoying this show very much.”
She didn’t look at me me, but she nodded, her cheeks seeming to darken a little. Her eyes were closed as she stopped rubbing for a moment and dipped her fingers down, slipping into her pussy.
“I-oh-I, um, I get my fingers all wet. Because if I rub like that, I get very wet. I wet them, and then since I’m more turned on, I can get a little more directly on my-my-clit,” she said, getting more and more breathless.
“It’s-um-difficult to be patient. When you’re watching me and telling me what to do, it makes things more intense,” she said, rubbing faster, breathing faster.
“Slow,” I said calmly. “Slow circles, not that much pressure,” I ordered, and she sighed deeply and obeyed.
I shifted around on the bed and laid on m back next to her. I continued to watch her, and like a good girl, she didn’t stop rubbing. Slowly, watching her eyes follow my hands, I pulled down my boxers, letting my hard cock spring out. Her eyes bulged a bit, and her fingers quickened.
“Now, I want you to be very good to me and come over here. I want you to straddle me and just use my cock for a little while. Not letting it slip into you and not coming. Do you think you can do all of that?”
Her eyes widened even more, and she considered the question. “I-I think so. I want to be good or you,” she said, biting her lip and starting to move over to me. She brought one leg over my body and hovered over me.
“We’re going to play a little game now. The rubbing game. You’re going to keep yourself from coming on my cock, and I’m going to see how long I can wait until I need to fuck you.”
She nodded somewhat furiously. “I like games,” she said with a bright smile.
“But-um-how do we know who wins?” She asked as she lowered herself down a little more, and her wet cunt slipped against the head of my cock.
“If you come, you lose. If you can convince me to fuck you, then you win,” I explained, and she nodded again.
“And-um-and, if I get you to fuck me, then I win, and then-then I can come, right? And I won’t lose,” she said, getting more and more breathless.
“That’s exactly right. Now you can really show me what a good girl you are,” I said, and she pushed down against me, pressing against my cock and starting to rub back and forth so that my hard cock slipped against her clit.
She put all of her weight down on me and put her hands on my chest for balance.
“This is how I used to do it when I was younger. I used to ride my pillow or the arm of the couch. I used to grind and hump and rub,” she said, her words broken by little moans and gasps.
“It always got me so hot and wet. I knew I was being bad. I was doing it right in the living room when my dad was watching football in his t.v. room. I would have given anything to have something to slip inside of me.”
My cock was slick with her wetness, and I could feel every ridge and fold of her pussy slip against me.
“But now you’re here. Now I have your big cock. I don’t have to just rub. I can finally get it inside of me.”
Her words were hypnotic. The grinding against my cock was stoking an orgasm inside of me. Looking up at her, the desperation in her eyes, the moans on her lips. She reached up and pinched her own nipple, wincing and then sighing.
“Please? Can you fuck me? Please?”
Her rocking became faster, harder, more frantic. At the apex of each regulation, nearly letting me slip into her. The heat of her pussy radiated over me.
My hands moved up, almost without my control. They landed on her hips. My back arched. She slowed her humping, rubbing against me in long slow strokes. I lifted her up ever so slightly.
“Please, yes, please!” She whimpered.
Then the world became the heat of her. My cock pushed into infinite silky wetness. She leaned down at that moment and kissed me. Her hair fell all around my face, and we moaned into each other’s mouths.
I rolled her over. I felt the rush of taking full control back. My hands stayed on her hips. My cock stayed inside of her cunt. When she was on her back, I fucked her hard and slow. She thrust her hips back at me. Her face shone with ecstasy.
“I won?” She panted.
I laughed as I nodded. “You won! You did it perfectly,” I said.
She smiled more brightly than I’d ever seen her smile. “I won-” She said, the word cut off by a moan.
“Now you can be a good girl and come for me.”
Her body immediately spasmed. It was almost shocking how quickly she came. All she needed was permission. She’d been on the edge the whole time. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.
She tightened around me, a wet vice, as she clutched my T-shirt and closed her eyes. I thrust up into her, pounding through her orgasm as mine rushed to catch up with hers.
After, as we gasped for air and held each other’s sweating bodies, I brushed the hair from out of her eyes and kissed her softly on the forehead.
“That was fun,” she said with a casual sweet smile. “I’m glad we did that. I had a feeling you would be good at sex,” she said, kissing me back.
I shook my head, still confused by her but glad I figured out a new game to play with my movie buddy.