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How did he know


While it was happening, I kept asking myself if there was
something that gave me away. Was it something that I said?
Or had he somehow interpreted or misinterpreted a look
I had given him? Was it just a lucky guess on his part? How
else could he have known? How else could anybody have known
the private desires and fantasies I have kept locked inside
of me for so long? What gave me away?
Let's back up a little and start with me. My name is Sylvia.
I'm a 36 year-old housewife and mother of a nineteen
year-old daughter. My husband, Jack, is an investment
consultant. The same be said of the money he makes, and the
time he spends away from home. There's lots of it. Am
I happy with the money he provides for me? Certainly, but
it doesn't make life any less lonely. Our daughter
Shannon is away at college most of the year and the house
seems so empty most of the time. I know, I know, you can spot
the cliche a mile away: bored housewife not getting enough
attention turns to someone else to fulfill her needs. But
it wasn't supposed to be that way. I was perfectly content
with my life, dull as it was. I never meant for anything like
this to happen.
It started when Shannon came home for the summer. She wanted
to throw a barbeque for some of her friends, and I readily
agreed, excited for the opportunity to breath a little
life into our home for at least one night. Her friends, a
balanced mix of males and females began arriving around
six that evening. About that time, Jack called from work
to say he would be tied up for another few hours. I would say
I was disappointed, but that would be a lie. This has happened
so many times in our marriage that I've become numb
to it. Besides it would give me the chance to be a little extra
flirty with the cute college-aged boys. Nothing bad, mind
you, just playful. I've always enjoyed being the "hot
mom". Shannon has told me this is how some of her male
friends have always thought of me. Sometimes, it's
nice to know you're still thought of in that way. After
Jack's call, I thought about changing into something
more provocative, but I didn't want to go overboard.
I already had on a short button-down blouse that exposed
my belly and a knee length skirt. I did, however, duck into
the bathroom to remove my bra. I told you, I was just being
And then Dean arrived. Dean lived down the street and had
been friends with Shannon for as long as I can remember.
Now they went to the same college, but I hadn't seen
him since last summer. He had certainly made the transformation
from skinny beanpole to handsome muscular hunk since I'd
last seen him. The past year had been good to this now-sexy
twenty year old man. It was strange to think of Dean as a man
now, but that's what he was. All man. It was difficult
to avoid staring at this scrumptious piece of meat. I wondered
if Shannon had any romantic feelings for him. Good for her
if she did.
I mingled with my daughter's friends and helped Shannon
with the food. During the evening my eyes kept being drawn
back to Dean and the sexy figure he cut. When he first saw
me, he said "Hey, looking good, Mrs. Greene."
I thanked him, and tried to play it casually, pretending
to be busy doing something else. The evening continued,
and nothing much of consequence occurred at the barbeque.
So, having had my fill of cavorting with the youngsters
and flirting with young men half my age, I decided to turn
in. I told Shannon I was going upstairs, and said goodnight
to everyone. I was slightly disappointed that I couldn't
get one last look at Dean. I figured he must have left early
as well.
I had entered my bedroom upstairs and shut the door behind
me before I realized that Dean was sitting on my bed. Needless
to say, I was startled.
"Dean, " I said, stating the obvious. "What
are you doing up here?"
I tried for a casual tone, not wanting to sound too parental,
but I wanted to know what the hell he was doing in my bedroom.
"Waiting for you, " he answered, and appended
a confident smile.
"Oh? And what are you waiting for?" I decided
to play along with his flirtatiousness for a few seconds
"Mrs. Baxter, I'm very attracted to you."
I smiled warmly at him. I didn't want to hurt the poor
"Dean, that is so sweet, really. But maybe you've
had a little too much to drink tonight. You should probably
go back and join your friends."
"I'm not going to do that right now, Mrs. Baxter,
because I know something about you."
"Is that right? And what is it that you know about me,
He flashed me that confident, slightly cocky smile again.
"I know that you will do anything I tell you to do."
I didn't respond immediately to his statement, because
something inside of me clicked, or turned on. I'm not
sure how to describe it. On some subconscious level I knew
what he said to be the absolute truth. Over the years I had
played out fantasies in my head of being completely dominated
by a man. Fantasies of being told exactly what to do. Fantasies
of being used, my body and mind being controlled, while
I am reluctantly transformed into an instrument of pleasure.
These long-held desires popped into my head now for just
a second, but it may have been this hesitation that encouraged
"What do you mean?" I finally asked.
"You've thought about this for a long time haven't
"Thought about what?"
"About giving in to your secret fantasies. About
letting go and becoming what you've always wanted
to be."
"And what is that?" I asked
"A slut."
Something else clicked in my head when he said that word,
but I tried to turn it off and regain control of the situation.
"Okay, Dean, I think that's enough. I'm
very flattered by your attention, but I'm a married
woman and you need to be getting back downstairs."
"Lock the door." His voice had become stern,
more mature.
"What?" I asked, but could already sense the
reign his voice was beginning to exert over me.
He repeated his command slowly, speaking each word softer
than before, but somehow with a greater firmness. "Lock.
The. Door."
I'm not sure why, for there was no logical reason, but
I turned back to the door and pressed the button on the doorknob
to lock it. It must have been at that point that we both knew
one thing. I was his to do with as he pleased.
I just stood there with my back to him for I don't know
how long, afraid to face him.
"Turn around, " he said.
I did, but I kept my eyes on the floor, frightened of what
I might see in his eyes, frightened of what I might be made
to do once I saw them.
"Look at me."
I raised my eyes to meet his. I could see a sense of victory
there, and something else. Maybe I only imagined it, but
I thought I could read a feeling of anticipation, almost
as if I could read in his eyes all the things he was going to
make me do, and in turn, do to me.
"That's better, Mrs. Baxter, or maybe I'll
just call you Sylvia. Would you like that, Sylvia?"
I nodded.
"This is going to be very good, Sylvia, I can already
tell. You are going to make me very happy, aren't you,
"Yes, " I answered softly.
"Yes, what?"
Another tumbler falling into place inside my mind. I knew
what he wanted me to say. He was pushing me down the road to
complete submission. I wanted to fight it, but couldn't
with any real conviction.
"Yes, sir." It was slightly humiliating to
call this boy sir and to have him addressing me by my first
name rather than as Mrs. Baxter. At the same time I liked
"Good, very good, Sylvia. You have been thinking
about something like this for a long time, haven't
I didn't answer.
"Haven't you?" he repeated.
"No, I... not for real"
"Not for real? Well then, what's the point if
it can't be for real? This will be so much more than you
ever dreamed. So much more intense."
I had no reply. I was still trying to come to terms with why
I had let this continue so long. Maybe I could still put a
stop to it.
"Unbutton your blouse, " he ordered.
"Please, Dean, don't make me do this."
"I'm not making you do anything. You want this.
You want it more than you know. You're free to leave
right now. So make your choice. Ask me to leave, or unbutton
your blouse."
I just stood there, unsure, a deer in the headlights. We
both knew I wouldn't leave. Then Dean chose for me.
"Unbutton it now, slut."
That command pushed me over the edge. I couldn't turn
back now. I wouldn't. I don't know why. I brought
my hands up to the center of my blouse and undid the top button.
And the next. And the next. Staring at him the entire time,
watching his casual smile which said that he knew what he
was doing to me, how this entire scene was affecting me,
but he didn't care. It was all for his pleasure now.
I was becoming his instrument. I undid the final button,
and the blouse fell open, baring my midsection and the center
of my chest, but not my breasts yet. It was still exhilarating
though, to be unbuttoned like this in front of him.
"You have such a great body, Sylvia."
"Thank you, " I replied, and then added, without
his prompting, "sir".
"Now take off your skirt."
"Please, " I whimpered, not knowing what I
was pleading for.
"Take it off, or I'll take it off for you."
Oh god, did he know how to push my buttons. I couldn't
stop myself from obeying him. I quickly unfastened my skirt
at the waist and let it fall in a heap of cloth to the floor.
So there I was standing on display for him, my blouse unbuttoned,
no bra on, my skirt removed, wearing a tiny pair of pink lace
panties. Candy for his eyes. I could only wait while he molested
me with his eyes.
"Get down on your knees, Sylvia, and don't make
me tell you twice."
I complied instantly this time, letting a little moan escape
my lips. Pretty much every one of my sexual fantasies over
the years has included somebody telling me to get on my knees,
and here it was actually happening. Now I was kneeling on
the floor, but still across the room from where he sat on
the bed.
"Crawl to me."
I shifted forward so that my weight was on my hands and knees.
Then I began to slowly crawl forward, bringing me closer
and closer to this person who had been a child to me for so
long, but was now all grown up and manipulating me both physically
and mentally. I stopped when I reached him and sat up, kneeling
at his feet. He stood up in front of me, and it didn't
take a genius to figure out what he would want next. At that
point he already had me. I wouldn't be able to refuse
him anything.
"Do you like being in this position, Sylvia?"
"Yes, Dean. Yes, sir."
"You like being on your knees for me?"
"You know what to do in that position, don't you?"
"Tell me what you're going to do."
He was going to make me say it. Before he made me do these things
he was going to make me describe them.
"I'm going to... to take you in my mouth."
I was nearly whispering.
"You're going to suck me."
"You're going to suck my cock."
"You're going to give me a blowjob, Sylvia. Mrs.
Sylvia Baxter is going to give me a blowjob."
He ran his fingers through my hair like I was his pet. He caressed
my cheek, ran a finger under my chin, and tilted my head back
to make sure I was looking up at him.
"You're going to let me fuck your mouth until
I come, and then you're going to swallow it."
"If that's what you want."
"It's what you want, Sylvia. Tell me it isn't,
and I'll leave."
I felt the words, somewhere deep inside me struggling to
escape, but the seconds dragged on, and I remained silent.
"Good, " he said, as if the matter were now settled.
"Now beg me for what you want."
I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say.
"Please, " I tried.
"Please, what?"
"Please... fuck my mouth?" It was more a question
than a plea.
"Please fuck my mouth and... let me swallow your come."
He smiled down at me, pleased.
"I will my little slut. But not right now. I will be
back later tonight, and you will signal me by coming out
on the back porch when your husband and daughter are asleep.
You will then lead me back inside to the living room, where
you will resume this position and service me with your mouth."
"No, I can't. I shouldn't even be doing this."
"You will, because you're a whore, " he
stated plainly. "Now get dressed. I think I just heard
your husband pull in."
With that he walked out of the room, leaving me half-dressed
on my knees.
I scrambled to change my clothes before Jack came upstairs.
As it turned out, Dean was right. Jack walked into the bedroom
only a few minutes after Dean had exited. I felt panicked,
certain that somehow Jack would know what had happened,
would be able to read on my face what I had been doing, or would
somehow be able to smell the lingering aroma of my initial
foray into wantonness. Not five minutes earlier, I had
been on my knees in front of another man, willing to do whatever
he wanted, and now I was kissing my husband and asking how
his day was.
And later...
What would I be doing later? Surely I couldn't go through
with what Dean wished. That would be insane. To perform
fellatio on him in the middle of the night in my own living
room while my husband and daughter slept upstairs. To use
my mouth on him, or rather, have him use my mouth for his pleasure.
It was a crazy thought. But it was also an unbelievably alluring
one. It would be like living out my wildest fantasies, wouldn't
No, I couldn't do it. It was too dangerous. Better to
just not go downstairs, not let Dean in again. Let this whole
evening just fade away like a memory.
But it didn't fade away.
As the night wore on, progressing toward some pivotal point
from which I still believed I could turn back, I relived
the scene with Dean again and again. I lay in bed with Jack
watching television. Well, he was watching, and I was in
turmoil, still unsure what I was going to do. I wanted to
listen to the part of me that believed that fantasy should
remain just that, but to actually turn fantasy into reality
was oh so tempting. The things Dean would make me do if I just
let him. Could I even turn back at this point. Would that
just anger him to the point that he would wait for me to be
alone and then just come and take me, violently. That was
another intriguing thought. It was unreal the torrent
of sexuality that Dean had released. There was not much
I could do to hold it back.
Later that night, when I was sure Jack had fallen into a deep
sleep, I eased out of bed wearing a sexy little light blue
babydoll nightie that Jack had paid little attention to,
which was the norm for my husband. I crept out of the room
and down the hall, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing or
hearing no signs of life from Shannon's room. Hopefully
she was deep asleep as well.
I don't know what was going through my mind as I descended
the stairs. I was in some type of self-induced sexual trance,
I think. Only concerned with satisfying the erotic feelings
that had been stirred in me, not worrying about any consequences
that my actions might bring. And still believing on some
level that it was just a playful game, that Dean probably
wouldn't even be outside waiting for me. That I could
just check quickly and then go back up to bed, back to the
straight-laced existence I had lived all these years.
I made my way through the darkened rooms to the sliding glass
door at the rear of the house. I slowly opened the blinds
and peered into the night. He wasn't there. The back
yard was still and empty, but for a long unused playset we
had bought for Shannon years ago. My body relaxed as the
tension drained away, and I realized that maybe I hadn't
really wanted this to happen after all. That was when Dean
stepped into view. He had been waiting at the side of the
sliding door, and must have seen the movement of the blinds.
I froze instantly, all the tension returning to me as if
my body had just been magnetized. The spell he had over me
evidently hadn't worn away in the few hours since our
upstairs meeting. I watched his lips move, and though I
couldn't hear his voice, I could read his lips.
"Open it, " he mouthed, pointing to the door
I couldn't break my immobility, realizing that here
was yet another turning point. Another moment of decision
in which I could turn and scurry back up the stairs, refusing
to let my behavior get out of control, no matter what signals
my body was sending me.
"Now, " he shaped with his lips.
That word pushed me over the edge. It was an order I couldn't
help following. My heart fluttering in my chest, I fumbled
to twist the lock and slid the door open, removing the last
barrier preventing Dean from doing what he wanted with
me. I stood before him in blue lace, feeling a soft summer
breeze caress my body, blowing through my nightie and increasing
the hardening of my nipples.
"What a lovely vision you are, " he said. "You're
mine now."
He said it without a trace of query. It was simply a given
"Lead on, slut. You know what to do."
Without a word, I turned and led him back through the kitchen
to the living room. I felt him more than heard him following
me. It was almost as if I were a dog on a leash, and he my master.
With great trepidation I stopped and turned to face him
in the middle of the living room.
The only light was that of the moon, finding its way through
the immense bay window that looked out upon our front yard.
The moonlight painted us with a surreal midnight glow.
From the window you could also see several of the houses
across the street, and hence if someone were looking at
our house from one of those houses, they could see the window,
though I'm not sure if they could actually see into
it, especially at night. I didn't want to take any chances
and began to reach for the shade. Dean grasped my arm to stop
me. He shook his head, denying me.
I pleaded with my eyes.
"Please, " I whispered.
"No, " he answered with his own firm whisper,
ending the matter and establishing who was in charge. "The
next time you say please, you will be begging for my cock.
Do you understand?"
His grip tightened on my arm.
"Yes, " I answered.
He then used my arm to pull me toward him, forcing my body
against his. He kissed me hard, using his tongue to pry my
mouth open. His hands were all over me then, roughly touching
and squeezing me. Groping my ass, holding me against him.
I could feel his hardness pressing against my belly. He
mauled my breasts with his strong hands. I couldn't
think straight. It was an assault on my senses, like I was
a new toy that he had been waiting to play with.
I was becoming overwhelmed. This was happening way too
fast, but there was no way to stop it now. I had let him in.
I had gotten myself into this situation, and saw no way out
but to see it through to the end.
Dean lifted me up with ease, and before I knew it I was standing
on top of our coffee table, looking down at him, at his greedy
eyes as they drank in the site of my body. He lifted my babydoll
nightgown up above my abdomen and kissed my belly, licking
around my belly button. I moaned before I knew it had escaped
my throat.
I felt his fingers hook into the waistband at the sides of
my panties. I closed my eyes and leaned against him as he
slid them down to my feet. I don't know why, but at that
moment I thought about what my husband would see if he walked
down the stairs: This young man caressing my body as I stood
on top of our living room coffee table with my panties around
my ankles. Dean's mouth moved lower and pushed all
thoughts of my husband from my mind.
He kissed me there. I don't think I have ever felt as
much pleasure from physical contact. I wanted him to continue,
but he lifted me down from the table, again switching our
perspectives. Now I was looking up at him, but not as much
as I would be in a few seconds.
"On your knees, " he told me.
Again I felt that unexplainable sensation inside, the
realization of hours upon hours spent fantasizing about
just such a situation.
My knees buckled, and I descended to a kneeling position
in front of him. I gazed up at him expectantly, waiting for
him to make the next move, but he just looked down at me as
if savoring his conquest. It was apparent he wanted me to
do the work. I reached forward to undo his pants. He stopped
me by grabbing my hands in his.
"Beg for it, " he said, louder than I would have
"Please, " I whispered.
"Please, what?"
"Please, sir, may I suck your cock?"
I closed my eyes in frustration, wondering again how I had
gotten myself into this situation. I asked him again, my
soft, pleading voice sounding like a shout in the nocturnal
quiet of the living room. I prayed that sound didn't
carry to the second floor any more than I thought it did.
This seemed to satisfy him, and he let go of my hands.
I unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and lowered them
to the floor. Any hesitation I may have experienced previously
had disappeared. Now I was just a slut with an aching need
to perform as a slut would. Dean's boxer briefs quickly
followed his pants. He stepped out of them and stood before
me, completely naked, having removed his shirt while I
was taking care of the rest.
He was a young god. The moonlight lent credit to the appearance
that his muscles were chiseled from stone. He stood over
me, master of the moment, his rock hard prick jutting into
the air, unashamedly, an impressive tower of flesh just
inches away from its inevitable destination, my mouth.
In my submissive position, I leaned forward slowly and
touched my lips lightly against the shaft of his penis.
I continued, knowing that I couldn't stop now. I had
no choice but to give him the blowjob he had demanded. My
lips pressed harder against his flesh as I kissed it up and
"Good, good, " he encouraged me, then forcefully
whispered "Now lick my balls, whore."
"Yes, sir, " I replied, really taking to the
subservient role.
I lifted his cock straight up with one hand while I ran my
tongue down to his testicles, licking them in turn, then
sucking each into my mouth, one at a time. As I alternated
this way, I could hear his restrained moans of pleasure.
He obviously didn't want to make enough noise for us
to get caught either. And why would he? That would end this
little power play.
"That's it, " he coached. "What
a good little whore you are. Look up at me, whore."
Until he said that, I hadn't realized that I had closed
my eyes while bathing his balls with my tongue. I snapped
them open to see him leering down at me.
"I knew you would be like this when I got a hold of you.
Just an outright slut, on your knees trying to stuff my cock
into your mouth. You've always wanted to be a dirty
little cocksucker, haven't you, Sylvia?"
"Mmmmm", I moaned in assent, still slurping
on one of his testicles, staring up into his cold blue eyes.
"Now's your chance, Sylvia. Show me what a good
little cocksucker you are. And you'd better make it
I licked my way back up his shaft, and finally plunged my
mouth down onto his cock, feeling it slide in across the
wetness of my tongue. I felt so depraved, using my mouth
on him this way, as if I were some kind of animal trying to
satisfy a primal need, when in reality it was his need I was
I began to suck his cock in earnest, bobbing my head up and
down, feeling the solid rod of flesh exit and enter my wide
open mouth, again and again. My saliva now coated the entire
length of his dick, and dribbled out of my mouth and down
my chin. I was moaning periodically with base animal lust.
I say moaning, but it was more like the squeal of a pig. I must
have looked like such a debased whore.
I don't know how long this continued. I was too caught
up in the experience, doing my best to please him, embracing
the sheer debauchery of it all. At some point he pulled back,
removing his gorgeous manhood from my mouth with a wet sucking
sound, leaving me panting and unfulfilled. I looked up
at him from my knees with what must have looked like desperation
in my eyes. Oh god, I needed his cock in my mouth.
"Get on the couch."
I moved quickly, my trepidation returning, not knowing
what he had in store for me now. I sat in the center of the couch,
the black leather feeling cool through the thin lingerie
that I still wore. Dean stood before me and reached down
to slide his hands up the length of my arms. He then slid the
straps of my nightie off my shoulders and began to pull the
light blue lace down over my chest, exposing my breasts
to the moonlight as well as his gaze.
He caressed them with those strong young hands, gradually
increasing pressure and speed, pinching my nipples, making
me nearly cry out in mixed pain and pleasure.
He then took me be surprise by getting onto the couch on his
knees and straddling me. His cock flopped onto my breastbone,
and he used his hands to wrap his hardness within the softness
of my breasts. He made a few slow thrusts, as if just testing
it out, fucking my tits. I had never had my tits fucked before.
It seemed like something a man would only do to a prostitute.
This evidently wasn't what Dean's ultimate goal
was, because he stopped thrusting after a short while,
and brought his hands up to my face, pushing my head back
against the couch, and inserting two fingers between my
lips. I sucked on them reflexively. He then removed his
fingers and pushed down on my shoulders so that I slid further
down on the couch, not stopping until my face was again level
with his cock.
Realizing that he wanted me to continue my oral ministrations,
I reached up to guide him back inside my mouth, but he pushed
my hands away and spoke firmly.
"Hands down, mouth open."
I couldn't believe that he could bark out commands
so assuredly. Nor could I believe the ease with which I obeyed
him. I lowered my hands to my sides, abandoning what control
I had left in the scenario.
"Open up, Sylvia. I'm going to come in your mouth."
I licked my lips, and once again I obeyed him, opening my
mouth as wide as I could, my dignity nowhere to be found.
"Stick out your tongue."
I pushed it out over my lower lip, presenting my oral cavity
for his use. He thrust forward carefully, and lay the head
of his penis onto my tongue. He kept it there for a few long
seconds before pushing forward and sliding it all the way
in. I closed my lips around it, expecting him to pull back
out immediately and begin fucking my mouth, but he stopped
there, with the head of his cock pushing at the entrance
to my throat, overwhelmed by the immenseness between my
lips. It seemed larger and harder than it had been a few minutes
ago. I took stock of the position I was in. Slouched down,
breasts bared, with Dean about to use my mouth as a vagina,
to relieve himself into. It was so dirty, and I'm ashamed
to admit I was so into it.
Then it began.
He started fucking between my lips without much mercy.
It was obvious he was only thinking of his own pleasure.
I felt my head being pushed into the back of the couch by the
motion of his hips. Not being able to help myself, I was moaning
like a whore again. And Dean wasn't finished giving
me orders.
"Finger yourself."
I slid my hand down my stomach, between my legs, and parted
my already wet pussy lips. My fingers moved in time with
his thrusts, increasing the intensity of the encounter
to a maddening level.
He was working hard and giving more voice to his pleasure.
The moment was drawing near. He made one final thrust and
held my head with his hands, even though it wasn't going
anywhere. I felt his semen spurt into my mouth, and began
to swallow it, in my mind, the ultimate act of a true whore.
Every fantasy I'd ever had was realized as I felt his
cock pulse again and again onto my tongue, emptying his
built up fluids down my throat. He pulled out, but held my
jaw open with one hand while aiming his still shooting member
into the open "O" formed by my lips. When he was
finished, he wiped the residual wetness onto my lips. I
bathed him clean like a hungry slut, all the way back down
to his balls.
He rose from the couch as if I were a video game he was finished
playing. Before I knew it he was dressed and headed back
through the kitchen to leave. I had hurriedly readjusted
my nightie and pulled my panties back on. Catching him before
he was out the door, I asked the question that had been nagging
at me from the start.
"How did you know?"
"How did I know what, Sylvia?"
"That I was...that I would..." I couldn't
find the words, despite the carnal acts in which I had just
He smiled, a cold, mocking curve of the lips. "I'll
tell you tomorrow. After I fuck you."
"No, Dean, no. I..."
"Tomorrow night, " he said, flatly. "I'll
be waiting again."

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You left me hanging waiting for more.. wow..not many stories
can do this to me.. Where did i leave my toys???