See, I keep imagining impossible scenarios with Kathryn. When she reaches back in her chair and stretches, I imagine popping open those buttons and burying myself in her breasts. When she sucks on the straw of her water bottle, I see her puckering up, waiting for me to kiss her. When she yawns in the morning and early in the evening, I see a woman who is about to suck my cock.
I bet she’s great at that. Most Dommes are. They’ve gotta give out great rewards to their male subs.
I want to lick the shoulders she shakes the sleeves of her jacket off. I want to stick my hand down her pants and feel my fingers choke in her folds, in the seam of those tight pants. And dear God do I want to spread her out on the table and drive myself into her until we both come.
My cock inside her, surrounded by her warmth and reaching deep, deep into her until I’m so buried that she’s screaming about how full she is.
I want to see her writhe beneath me, that beautiful blond hair circling her face like a halo. I want to hear her gasp my name…and call me sir.
She said it the other day. On the phone with one of her father’s investors. “Yes, sir. That won’t be a problem, sir.” Holy fuck, she said it quickly without a second thought, but I was so enthralled with the way those sounds rolled off her tongue that I proceeded to fantasize about the most impossible thing ever.
Dominating Kathryn Alison.
Bend her over. Spank her. Gag her with my cock. Spill my seed on her and admire how filthy she is. Filthy for me.
I Dom, not to control and hurt, but because I want to completely own the person I’m with. Even if it’s a one night stand, I’m a lot happier hearing her at least pretend to give herself to me, body and soul. Subs are so powerful. They trust you with their bodies, their hearts, the scars they already have on them. They want you to make them feel safe. And dirty. Safe to be dirty.
To fulfill their fantasies. And yours.
Kathryn understands this too well. It’s why this fantasy of mine will never come true. Very few Doms switch. Dommes like Kathryn, who have to psych themselves up to be the go-getters the world tells them they’re not? They’re even less likely to give up control. I’ve had sex with a couple of Dommes. Just regular sex, no role-play. Even when I was on top of them, thrusting into them, bending them over, pressing them against walls… they were very much in control of the situation, even if they were careful to not threaten my power. Those hookups only work when we’re both too horny to care but can’t find non-Doms to fuck. Sometimes you just want a hot pussy, and sometimes they just want a hard dick.
It’s too different with Kathryn. This isn’t shrugging and deciding to go for it. This is much deeper.
And I’m losing my mind.
***
Right now I’m at my big desk at home, trying to finish up the work I couldn’t get done with Kathryn around. It’s Wednesday night and I’m tired. So tired that twice now I’ve thought my cat Saoirse was my mind playing tricks on me. She’s a dainty little black cat, a master of knocking shit over and chewing on power cords until she gets a nasty jolt. (And to the point her owner had to anti-cat every power cord in the condo.) Normally at this time of night she’s snoozing away on her pillow in the living room, but tonight she’s hopped up on something and jumping on and off my desk at strange intervals.
Normally I love sitting here to work at all hours of the day. I live on the nineteenth floor of this high rise and have a fantastic view of downtown, especially at night when the lights twinkle and the darkness turns my condo into a cave of creativity. But not tonight. Tonight? I’m staring at my reflection in the tinted windows, willing myself to get my shit together.
I’m not perfect. Like any man, I lose my ability to contain my bearings once in a while.
I called and left Stephanie a message yesterday. I haven’t heard back from her. I don’t think I will.
Plans are already being made to go out and find a woman this weekend. I am going to purposely avoid a blonde. They are too dangerous right now.
They all make me think of Kathryn.
Do you know how good she would look in my condo? Her sophistication would class this place up. I can see her, wearing one of those designer suits at my kitchen counter, Blue Tooth in her ear and stiletto heel dangling from her foot. I want her here, though. I want her with me at my desk, asking me what I want.
“What can I do for you, sir? What can I do to relieve some of this… tension?”
I’d tell her to show me her breasts. After I have my fill of them, I’ll have her crawl beneath my desk and take my cock out of my pants.
Fuck, I’m hard. That’s what I get for daydreaming about Kathryn Alison sucking my cock when I should be working. I haven’t even touched myself since I screwed up with Stephanie. That, unfortunately, was my last orgasm. Now, I’m not saying that I’m a guy who has to get off once or twice a day, but five days is cutting it a bit close for the blue balls.
I haven’t done anything because I’m afraid I’ll fantasize about Kathryn.
It’s inevitable. My thoughts are so full of her that she’s consuming me. I’m not even sure I like the woman outside of general friendliness. I try to forget about that time we were teenagers. It feels like a lifetime ago, anyway. I try to think of her as a woman I recently met. Someone I have no history with, because then I don’t feel so weird thinking about her running her tongue up and down my cock, her lips sucking on my tip while her hand works the entire length of my shaft.
By the time I wrap my hand around my cock, I’m so stiff that I let out a groan of relief.
I close my eyes and imagine that everything I do to myself is coming from Kathryn. All I have to think about is how I want to finish. Should I come in her throat and make her swallow my seed? Holy hell, I would love to see that. Watch me dribble down the side of her mouth while she tells me how good I taste.
Or I could let her take me to the brink, pull out, and finish on her breasts. I want to see the white disappear into her cleavage and drip off her nipples.
I groan. The head of my cock is wet already.
I’d call myself pathetic, but hey, I’m a man reacting to things as men do. I’m not gonna feel shame for having the hots over a woman and wanting to fuck her. She’s not a family member. She’s not a forbidden person. I don’t even hate her, although sometimes she looks at me with such disdain that… shit, that turns me on too. I want her to beg for me, but I’m cool with the idea of her warring with her own mind. Fuck. Now I’m imagining her spread before me on my desk, her body begging for my cock while she cries out in pleasure and frustration. The frustration is because she knows we shouldn’t be doing this, but she can’t help herself.
I know what I would do. I’d pull out of her mouth and release myself into that blond hair. It’s been causing me so much trouble lately. Sure, enough women have told me that it’s a pain in the ass to wash out. I don’t care. It’s my fucking fantasy.
And in this fantasy, she’s sucking me off until I hit the point of no return. I’m gonna come. I push her off me and orgasm into that blond mane, watching her eyes widen in surprise.
In reality, my cock finds solace in my hand. My climax forces my forehead against my desk, my groans suddenly loud enough to echo in my condo. Somewhere, the cat skitters away. Good. I want to be alone.
It’s a hard orgasm. One of the hardest I’ve had on my own in a long time. Even after I finish ejaculating, I still feel my whole body shudder, and I remain against the desk, shoulders slumping and breath easing out of me.
Just another testament to what that woman does to me.
You know what? I can’t live like this. I can’t spend every day thinking of her, having her infiltrate my love life and turn everything upside down. I can’t deal with Kathryn Alison sitting there, not knowing what she’s doing to me.