A Step Too Far

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I have never been good at leaving well enough alone.

The previous few weeks had possibly been the best of my life, and definitely from a sexual standpoint. My wife and I had been enjoying unrestricted sexual intercourse every single night, something we had never before done in our years of marriage, and no intimate encounter was complete until I finished sucking the last drop of our creampie out of my wife’s bountiful vagina. Making and eating creampies had become our new favorite pastime, and every night was an adventure.

It began as a longtime fantasy of mine, which I wrote about in a story called “Dreaming of His First Creampie.” I submitted my story to Literotica, and it was positively received.

That gave me an idea.

To turn my fantasy into reality, I printed the story and hid it in my wife’s dresser beneath a pair of sexy black thong panties, which ignited a seemingly unquenchable fire in both of us and led to a nightly routine beyond my wildest imagination. I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world, and that my sexual fantasy turned reality would never end.

Then I went a step too far.

At my wife’s suggestion, I described our first creampie adventure in another story, called “Creampie Fantasy Becomes Reality,” and likewise submitted it to Literotica, where it received positive response similar to my first story.

I thought my wife would enjoy reading my new story even more than my first, so I also printed a copy and hid it in her panties drawer.

Well, it really could have worked.

As I mentioned, our sexual routine for the past few weeks had been incredible, beyond my wildest imagination, and I am certain I could have lived happily ever after without changing a single thing. Every day after work my beautiful wife met me at the door, and we left a trail of clothing all the way to our king-size bed, where we practically devoured each other in a lustful frenzy. The oral sex appetizer naturally lead to the main course, intercourse, followed by our new favorite dessert, a fresh creampie, which I usually gobbled up hungrily but sometimes shared with her in a variation of our old favorite treat, the snowball.

I didn’t think our sex lives could get any better, but I also never imagined the story my wife had encouraged me to write could somehow disrupt the really good thing we had going.

I should have left well enough alone.

Intuitively, I felt something was amiss that day when I got home from work and my wife was not waiting for me at the front door, as had been her recent habit.

I removed my shoes in the foyer and crept silently to our open bedroom door, to see if perhaps she was waiting for me there. Not only was our bed empty, but there were no candles or scented oils lit, as had also been my wife’s recent habit.

Still walking quietly, I turned the corner into our family room, only to find my wife sitting on our love-seat seemingly oblivious to my presence, with her skirt hiked up around her waist, one hand holding her cellphone in front of her face, and three fingers of the other hand deep inside of her prize.

Stopping dead in my tracks and remaining quiet so as not to spoil the incredibly erotic scene I had happened upon, I involuntarily reached one hand down to rub the bulge in my ever-tightening pants.

I watched my wife remove her fingers from her vagina, lick them off slowly, one by one, and then touch the screen of her cellphone. I could hear her breathing from where I stood in the doorway as she reinserted her fingers and gazed intently at whatever was on her cellphone screen, still apparently unaware of my presence. My tongue started getting as hard as my other vital organ, and it occurred to me to crawl over to her on all fours and bury my face between her legs.

She must have heard me lowering myself to the floor, because she quickly removed her hand from my favorite place and simultaneously lowered her skirt and cellphone.

“What are you doing?” she asked in an unexpectedly angry tone. Her eyes and lips were narrow as she stared at me on my hands and knees only a few feet away.

“I was wondering the same thing about you,” I said, thinking about standing up but remaining on all fours.

“Oh, you know,” she said in an exaggeratedly casual way, “I’m just reading Literotica on my cellphone.”

Her facial expression did not change from the narrow look she had initially shown.

I could tell she was angry, but it took me a moment to realize why. Hey, I’m a man, we don’t always think with the brain between our ears!

“I didn’t know you read Literotica,” I said. It was starting to sink in.

“I had never even heard of Literotica until this morning when I read the story you submitted to that site,” she said, her voice getting louder with each word. “The story you wrote, about me, about us, about what we do in the privacy of our own bedroom, and blabbed about to the whole world!”

“Didn’t you like my story?” I asked defensively. “I wrote it for you.”

I should have kept my mouth shut for tuzla escort a minute.

“Didn’t I like it?” she erupted. “Do you really care if I liked it? Thousands of people liked it,” she continued, again raising her volume with each word, “strangers, who now know every little dirty thing we do in private! How could you?”

I had never considered it from that point of view.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think you would be upset.”

She just stared at me for a minute, still on all fours a few feet from her on the love-seat, so I tried to soften her up a bit.

“Can I make it up to you?” I asked with a wicked grin, beginning to crawl toward her once again with the same lustful intent.

She tried to kick me with one of her bare feet, but I grabbed her foot and held it to my face.

“Come on,” I pleaded my case, “I said I was sorry, let me make it up to you. I know you enjoy it as much as I do.”

I licked the space between her first two toes the way I like to lick the space between her legs, and then engulfed her big toe in my mouth, mimicking her special talent.

I could sense that she was starting to soften.

I kissed the sole of her foot and then rubbed my nose back and forth gently, which I knew would tickle her.

“Oh, you can make it up to me all right,” she said, “but on my terms.”

She pulled her foot away from me and stood up. I stood up too.

“You’re going to need to be taught a lesson,” she continued. “I want to make sure you remember this for a long, long time.”

Her voice was stern, but I was beginning to feel excited about whatever lesson she had in mind for me. It was out of character for her to take charge like that, and I found it very sexy.

“Now go to our bedroom and take off all of your clothes,” she ordered.

I did not try to conceal my smile.

“Oh, you can smile now,” she said, “but it’s not going to be what you think. You go lie down on our bed and wait for me while I get ready. And from now on, when we are in our home, you will call me, ‘Mistress.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Yes?” she repeated.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, still unable to conceal my smile.

About ten minutes later my beautiful Mistress came into our bedroom, stood at the foot of our king-size bed, and slowly removed her clothes. I was lying on my back, naked as she had ordered, visibly aroused by what she was doing, and by my own imagination as I pondered the lesson she would inevitably be teaching me.

“Roll over, face down,” she commanded.

“Yes, Mistress,” I obliged, rolling onto my belly but raising my backside slightly for obvious reasons.

She climbed on top of me, straddling my legs, and grabbed both of my wrists roughly, tying them behind my back with what turned out to be one of my neckties.

She got off of me and smacked my backside firmly, ordering me onto my back. Then she straddled me again and brought her vagina to my chest.

“OK, here’s how it’s going to be,” she began. “You wanted to be my orgasm slave, so that’s what you are going to be. Every night for one week you are going to bring me to as many orgasms as I command you to, in this same position, with your hands tied behind your back. If you do as you are told, and if I am pleased with your performance, you will be allowed to have one orgasm.”

So far it did not sound bad to me at all!

“But there’s a catch,” she continued. “Every night I am going to hide something inside of my vagina, and you are going to have to find it with your tongue and tell me what it is. If you are right, and when I am finished having as many orgasms as I want, you will be allowed to have one orgasm. If you are incorrect, you will forfeit your orgasm for that night.”

She paused for a moment, so I said, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Oh, there’s more,” she said, clearing her throat to emphasize the point she was about to make. “On the nights you are allowed to have an orgasm, I will watch you eat your semen.”

She paused again, but I didn’t say anything.

“All of it,” she added. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

“Good,” she said, moving herself up onto my face. “Then let the lesson begin.”

She rubbed her clean shaven vulva across my eager mouth, and the first thing I noticed was how wet she was. I pushed my tongue into her as deeply as I could, and a white, creamy liquid dripped into my mouth.

“Whipped cream,” I announced, proud of myself for having passed the first part of the lesson. Her body heat had turned the whipped cream to liquid.

Combined with her savory female secretions, it was delicious!

“Not so fast,” she warned. “There’s more.”

She adjusted herself over my mouth and squeezed my head between her thighs as I continued to hungrily explore her inner depths with my tongue, sucking and slurping her tasty vagina and nibbling on her labia. She reacted to my oral stimulation by holding my head with her hands as her breathing quickened.

With the tip of my tongue deep inside of her, I felt tuzla escort bayan something move, so I pursed my lips and sucked for all I was worth. My reward was not one, and not two, but three maraschino cherries and my sexy wife’s first orgasm of the evening.

She lifted herself up from my face momentarily, and I raised my chin and licked and nuzzled her hind quarters, which really turned me on, as if I wasn’t already bursting with excitement.

“Three cherries,” I said proudly. “If you were a slot machine, I would win a jackpot!”

“Oh, my orgasm slave, that felt so good!” she said, kissing my mouth passionately, then licking the remaining whipped cream, cherry juice, and her own female secretions from my cheeks and chin.

She re-positioned herself so she was facing the foot of the bed and again straddled my face.

“Are you ready for round two?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“Yes, Mistress,” I answered enthusiastically.

Her second orgasm did not arrive as quickly as the first, although I will admit she tasted absolutely incredible. I licked and sucked everything within reach, paying special attention to her clitoris whenever she leaned forward. At one point, she briefly put her hands on my erect member, and I reflexively raised my hips to increase the stimulation, but she just as quickly loosened her grip as a reminder to me not to expect any reciprocation. I continued to nibble her labia and dart my tongue in and out of her sopping wet vagina, increasing my pace until she responded favorably. Her moans and gasps were music to my ears, an orgasmic symphony for my listening pleasure. She held one hand to her face and shuddered wildly as she reached her limit, eventually rolling off of my face and kissing me as she had before.

“OK, orgasm slave,” she said when she had finally caught her breath, “I think you have learned your lesson for tonight. Roll over and I’ll untie you.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, rolling back onto my belly so she could untie my wrists.

“You can have your orgasm now,” she said after I turned over again. “But remember what you have to do.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said dutifully.

I laid there on my back for a moment before I realized I was going to have to take care of the deed on my own, while my Mistress watched. I kissed her mouth passionately, then reached down and got a grip on my throbbing member. She explored my mouth with her tongue the way I had used my tongue inside of her vagina, and in a very short while I was spurting semen onto my own belly and thighs.

With two fingers she scooped up a big glob of my semen and brought it to my mouth.

“Open wide, my semen-eating slave,” she ordered. “There’s plenty more where this came from.”

Then she dropped the glob into my mouth and I licked her fingers clean.

“Again,” she said, and I swallowed another scoop of my own semen.

After several scoops, my orgasm was cleaned up to my Mistress’s satisfaction, and she forced me to lick my own fingers and palms clean, just in case I had missed any.

“Tomorrow, you will do your own scooping,” she said curtly when the job was finally finished.

“Yes, Mistress,” I sighed.

Well, my lessons continued every night for a week, just as my Mistress had ordered, and every night she challenged me with a different treat inside of her succulent vagina.

Our nightly routine mimicked that first lesson. I would take off my clothes and lie on our king-size bed while my Mistress prepared her surprise offering. Then she would tie my hands behind my back and straddle my face, riding me roughly to her first orgasm. Every night she enjoyed two or more orgasms before she allowed me to pleasure myself, and some nights she had as many as four! In addition to swallowing what seemed like about a half-liter of my own semen over the course of the next five nights, my dessert menu also included chocolate pudding, a peppermint patty, two full-size peanut-butter cups, several canned peach slices, and my favorite, a half banana, peeled, of course. I was in a constant state of orgasmic bliss just tasting her flavorful delights every night while she rode my face and mouth like a bicycle seat on a bumpy road, but nothing turned me on more than searching, with my hands tied behind my back, for the other half of that banana!

All week she teased me by dropping hints about the “spectacular final lesson” she had planned for me, providing, of course, I successfully passed the first six lessons, which I did. So by the time the seventh day arrived, my imagination was working overtime with thoughts and fantasies of whatever dirty little surprise my Mistress would have up her sleeve, or more accurately, well, you know where!

That day while I was at work, trying in vain to concentrate on the job I was being paid to do but feeling extremely aroused just imagining the evening my Mistress had planned for my final lesson, I received a text message asking me to meet her at the gym. It was not unusual for us to meet at the gym after work a couple of times a week, escort tuzla although my lessons that week had taken precedent over any previous routine.

I replied to her text with the words, “Yes, Mistress,” and the emoji of the smiley face with his tongue sticking out, which had become my new favorite for obvious reasons.

Any time we met at the gym, I loved the way my beautiful Mistress looked in her exercise clothes, and it turned me on tremendously to see her sweat as she worked out. But that evening, the anticipation of my spectacular final lesson already had me straining at the seams of my gym shorts, which did not go unnoticed by my Mistress, or her two friends who occasionally joined us. For the sake of this story, I will refer to her friends as Liz and Katie, although those are not their real names. Liz worked in the same office with my Mistress. We often socialized with Liz and her friend Katie, whose company I really enjoyed, although I sometimes wondered why neither of them had boyfriends or husbands, as both were intelligent, attractive women.

They were working out on one of the exercise machines as I approached, the bulge in my gym shorts leading the way. I could feel all six eyes on my worst kept secret as I kissed my Mistress and said hello to her friends.

“Looks like he’s ready for his final lesson right now,” Liz said with a grin, nodding toward my obvious arousal.

All three women giggled the way women do when two or more are together.

I know the look on my face spoke volumes to my Mistress.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” she said to me very casually, smiling wickedly and glancing back and forth at her two friends as she spoke. “I told my friends here all about the lesson you are learning.”

I looked at each of the women and their smug expressions and felt completely humiliated, which loosened the crotch of my gym shorts considerably.

“I figured, if you can share our most private moments with thousands of strangers,” she continued, “I can at least tell my two friends about the lesson I am teaching you.”

I lowered my eyes from their faces but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“That’s not a problem for you, is it?” she asked.

“I guess not,” I mumbled.

“How is that?” she asked in a tone I had until recently heard only rarely.

“No, Mistress,” I replied, still looking at the floor between us.

“Good,” she said, “then let’s go home now for your final lesson. If you pass, tomorrow you will be able to make and eat your favorite dessert.”

“A creampie,” Liz and Katie both said in unison, then giggled again.

“Oh, and one more thing,” my Mistress added. “I hope you don’t mind if I invited my friends to watch your final lesson.”

“No, Mistress,” I mumbled again, feeling totally demoralized yet strangely excited at the same time.

I was the first to arrive at our home, as is usually the case when we drive separately. Although I know it is not a race, I blame my competitive nature for my heavy foot on the gas pedal. I left the front door unlocked.

I sat down on our love-seat, and a couple of minutes later I heard the three women walk in together, giggling again.

“What are you doing here?” my Mistress asked when she saw me sitting in our family room.

“I live here,” I answered smartly.

I should have kept my mouth shut for a minute.

“That will cost you,” she said sternly. “Now take off your clothes and wait for me in our bed.”

The three women stood in front of the room’s only doorway.

I waited for them to move out of the way, but they did not. Then I realized my Mistress’s order was to be followed precisely.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said dutifully, slowly undressing in front of my Mistress and her two friends and folding my clothes in a neat pile on our love-seat. Despite my humiliation, I was fully erect as I walked past the women en-route to our bedroom. There were a few whispers and gasps, but I did not look at any of their faces. I handed my necktie to my Mistress as I passed.

As instructed, I laid on my back on our king-side bed and waited for my Mistress to begin my final lesson.

And as she had done the previous six nights, my Mistress arrived about ten minutes later and undressed at the foot of our bed. Her friends were standing on either side of her.

“Please, sit down,” my Mistress said to her friends, waving her hand toward two dining room chairs which she had set up next to our bed, apparently for this purpose. “I want to be sure you’re comfortable.” Then she looked directly into my eyes and added, “This is going to take a while.”

She crawled onto our bed next to me and instructed me to turn over, tying my wrists together with my necktie as she had done for my previous lessons. Then she smacked my backside loudly and ordered me to roll onto my back.

I heard whispers emulating from our peanut gallery, but could not decipher any words.

My Mistress straddled my face and held onto my head with two handfuls of my hair as I entered her vagina with my eager tongue. She was very wet and tasted tangy, but I could not immediately identify the flavor. I closed my eyes and tried to reach her tonsils, which would have been impossible, of course, but I can dream!

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