By Fritz

All comments and criticism accepted:†


"You see, hereís the deal.† I really, really need to be fucked.† Do you think thatís something you could take care of for me?"

The words spoken by the woman lying on the bed startled me for a moment, not so much for the language used as for the tone:† pleading, yet completely lacking any sense of desperation.† She merely stated her request, her need, yet did so with total assurance that her need would be satisfied.

Of course, the visual far outshone the aural.† A woman I had pegged instantly as a butch upon seeing her in the hotel bar, complete with tight black pants and leather biker boots, was now laying, no lounging, on the hotel room bed wearing the reddest, laciest teddy I had every seen.† The fashion conscious side of me, the side that so loves the feel of sexy lingerie against my skin, wanted to ask, "Wherever did you find that?† How much did it cost?"† I quickly realized that a shopping discussion might break the mood.† And I did not want the mood I was in to be broken.† My blood was already boiling, had been since this woman had approached me in the bar, engaged in a bit of small talk, then pushed her room key toward me with no more than a "Room 1123, give me just a few minutes, then come on up."

Oh, yeah, and one other visual.† As she lay on her side, head propped up on one hand, the foot of one leg gently stroking up and down the other leg, she also stroked the dildo laying on the bed, complete with harness, with her fingers, up and down, up and down, in time with the movement of her leg.† And, it didnít take 20-20 vision to see that she wore no panties.

"I thought you were the right one as soon as I saw you downstairs.† So, what do you think?"† She looked at me intently, cocking her eyebrow inquisitively.

What do I think?† I think you have the wrong girl, thatís what I think.† Doesnít the outfit give me away?† A silky blouse, lacy camisole, loose, flowing skirt, pink sandals.† Canít you see Iím the femmest of all femmes?† Nope, never played softball, never gave a secondís thought to being a gym teacher, not me.† Shouldnít I be the one laying on that bed, caressing that toy, begging you, the big bad butch, to fuck me senseless, all without taking off your boots?

And yet . . .† And yet the way she looked at me.† The way she looked at me made me question all of my assumptions.† She looked at me with such utter confidence, the look that someone gets when sheís been searching in vain for weeks for just the right outfit for that party, the outfit that wonít be too sexy nor too stodgy, the one that sends out all of the right messages, in just that perfect shade of pink, and then she finally finds it, and, no matter the cost, buys it, so she feels perfect.

Why does my mind always go back to shopping?† Get your head in the game!† The game is satisfying this woman, and that is something I think I can do.

I finally nod and say, "Yes, I think I can take care of that for you."† I swallow anxiously and almost put voice to the questions in my head.† Where do you want to be fucked, how do you want to be fucked, where should I be during the fucking?† Yes, some of the answers are obvious, but you see, Iíve never really done this before.† Oh, Iíve had it done to me plenty of times.† You bet, been fucked by the best, with quite an interesting array of accessories.† Wait, that makes me sound like a slut, which Iím not, but you get the idea.† The fuckee, thatís what I am, not the fucker.† And as Iím wondering if "fuckee" is a real word, I realize a very important fact.† This woman is not interested in someone who "thinks" she can do the job, a nervous nelly who asks where, how and when.† No, thatís not what sheís after at all.† Sheís looking for someone who CAN take care of this, not someone who THINKS she can.

Suddenly, Iím filled with a confidence I have never known.† If this woman believes in me, then I believe in myself.† I become a CAN, not a THINK.

My eyes narrow as I feast upon the sight before me.† This woman is breathtakingly beautiful, twinkling eyes, slender face, curves in just the right places, an impressive definition to the bicep muscle of the arm on which sheís resting.† I feel my shoulders set back a bit and place my hands on my hips.† I drink her in, the possibilities of this evening finally flowing free through my mind.

The shift in me must be apparent on my face or in my stance.† That luscious mouth of hers, sexy even without any trace of lipstick, curves in a knowing grin.† Yep, sheís found that outfit, and sheís buying.

Enough with the shopping!† On to thinking about whatís under that teddy, not where can I get one for myself.

"Lay back on the bed."† I am amazed that my voice doesnít break as I say this.† But I cannot let that amazement show.† She complies, resting one arm above her head.

"Youíre very beautiful, but I think you already know that."† I take a confident step toward the bed.† I start to unbutton my blouse, pulling it back at the shoulders and letting it drop on the floor.† Next to go are my sandals and then my skirt.

My eyes fall upon her breasts, heaving slightly under the lace of the teddy, and she follows the track of my eyes.† "Those must feel heavenly, touching them through the lace."† I am about to state a request but realize that it must be a command.† "Touch them, tell me how they feel."

She brings down the hand from above her head and starts ever so slightly sliding one finger around her breast.† "Itís exquisite," she says, "all rough and soft at the same time."† Her finger starts sliding towards the center of her breast.

"Donít touch the nipple until I tell you," I command.† Without conscious thought, my voice has become deeper, more authoritative.† She responds to it with a slight cocking of the eyebrow, but she obeys.

I slide my panties down my legs.† I can already smell my arousal and wonder if she can as well.† As I reach for the bottom of the camisole, she says, "Please leave that on."

Leave my lacy, white, virginal camisole on?† I donít think so.† Wrong message from that outfit.† I voice my displeasure.† "Since when are you giving the orders?" I say.† I back a couple of steps away from the bed, and I see her body rise a bit as if to follow me.† "I could leave right now, you know."

"No, no, please donít."

Begging?† God, I donít remember hearing a lot of that before.† I think I like it.

"You donít want me to go?"

"No, please donít leave.† Please stay"

Nope, no thinking here.† I like begging a lot!† "Well then, remember whoís in charge here."† I whip off the camisole and reach around to unclasp my bra.† As it falls to the ground, she seems pleased with the sight of my breasts, but then an idea occurs to me.† I glance across the room and see the white button down shirt she had been wearing earlier draped over a chair.† Padding over to it, but never taking my eyes from her, I reach for the shirt and slowly put it on, leaving it unbuttoned.

"Did I tell you to stop touching your breasts?"

She resumes her task, now bringing the other hand and breast into play.† The shirt I have placed on my body feels like a mantle of power.† I almost strut back across the room, resuming my spot at the end of the bed.† I see under the teddy that her nipples have grown to small peaks, but I know she can do better.

"Pinch your nipples, roll them between your finger and your thumb."† She rushes to comply, releasing a moan as her neglected nipples finally receive attention.† Indeed, the peaks grow under her ministrations, as she pulls each nipple into prominence.† I notice that her legs open slightly in response to the motion of her fingers.† I can see the sheen of her wetness, can sense her clit growing larger.† My mouth waters, and I lick my lips as the thought of tasting her overwhelms me.† Again, she seems to read my mind, as her hips thrust out towards me ever so slightly.

I look up at her face and cock my own eyebrow, not needing to remind her who is in control.† Her hips slowly lay back on the bed.

I reach for the harness still lying on the bed.† I suddenly feel as if my brain has been hardwired into the Good Vibrations database on the use and care of sexual toys.† No fumbling, no uncertainty, I step boldly into the harness, pulling it up and tightening the straps.† Without much ado, I adjust the dildo into place, then gently stroke up and down the shaft, all the while watching her eyes.† Now whose mouth is watering, whoís licking her lips?

I lift one knee and place it on the bed.† I lean over and begin a confident crawl up her body.† She lifts her eyes from her perusal of the toy to lock with mine.† The open shirt brushes against her teddy, sending shivers through her body.† With a strength I did not know I possessed, I hold my body over hers.† I lean forward, slowly at first, then capture her mouth in a bruising, possessive kiss.† She moans as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, mapping the interior with claiming swipes and pulling back with a rough nip of her lower lip.† As I dive in for more, she lifts her hands inside the shirt, sliding them up and down my sides, then around my back.† It occurs to me that I should order her to put her hands down, but Iím enjoying the feel of her caresses too damn much.

My right hand reaches down as my left arm holds me suspended above her.† I stroke her pussy, not a light, languid one-fingered glide, but a full hand sliding through all of that wetness swipe.† I feel her abdomen contract and her hips rise as my hand lingers a bit on her clit.† I move my hand to grasp the dildo, then rub it through her wetness.† She growls a bit, showing her impatience.† I back the dildo away, and her growl becomes a whimper.† It is then that I move.

As if I have done this my whole life, my hand and hips move as one, thrusting the toy into her.† She cries out in pleasure, music to my ears.† I am afire, my body moving of its own accord, pushing, pushing, pushing.† She reaches out again, gently stroking my back, calming me.† I reset the pace, a slower one, a more deliberate one.† I realize that, in taking my time, I can fuck her deeper, reaching all of the places that she needs me to reach.† Our movements seem to be orchestrated, as she lifts up to match my push down.

She is now suddenly vocal.† "God, yes baby, fuck me.† Yeah, just like that.† You feel so good, so deep, I can feel all of you."† I realize that I like this, being skin on skin, or at least, skin on lace, as Iím making love to a woman.† Our lips meet again in a frenzied pace.

I am reaping the benefits of this movement and her words.† The pressure of the dildo against my enlarged clit feels so good.† With each thrust into her, my arousal grows.† My juices flow from me, coating my own pussy, my legs, her pussy, the bed.

"Take me, baby, take me.† Iím yours."† She throws her head back, crying out what sounds to be a very girly cry.† "Donít stop, donít stop."

Iím not stopping.† Iíve found a brand new favorite hobby, and Iím not stopping even if the worldís biggest hurricane comes crashing right through this room.

As if it canít get better, she wraps her legs around me and reaches her hands down to pull my hips into her.† I feel her calves clench, pulling me even closer, even deeper, increasing the pressure on my own clit.† My orgasm is building, and Iím hoping that it wonít overtake me before my work is done.† The last thing that I need to do is to collapse in a big old puddle before this woman is completely, and I mean completely, satisfied.

Her own orgasm is building.† Her thighs tighten around my body, pushing the air from my lungs.† My pace does quicken now, my thrusts grinding into her, the slap of skin on skin driving both of us higher.† Her head is thrashing from side to side, all of her words now reduced to a constant chant of "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"† As I think that I cannot hold my own release any longer, she throws her head back and cries out, "Yes!"† I swear that I can feel the walls of her pussy tighten around the toy.† I am trapped, deliciously so, in deeper than I ever thought possible, pressing myself against her as my own orgasm explodes.

I collapse against her, our bodies slick with sweat and our lungs gasping for air.† We lay that way for several moments, me pressed against her, her legs wrapped loosely around my body.† I am vaguely aware that her arms are still around me, her hands gently stroking up and down my back.

I think that I must be crushing her and lift my body a bit.† She tightens her arms and her legs, quietly murmuring, "Stay."† I comply.

After several moments, once Iíve managed to catch my breath, I finally lift up my head.† I smile as she looks into my eyes, that same look Iíve seen so many times before.† I brush the hair from her eyes, realizing that she didnít get the haircut sheíd talked about getting all week.

"Baby, when you said that you had a special plan for our anniversary, you really meant you had a special plan for our anniversary!"

She laughs, not a girly giggle, but the throaty laugh that I love so much.† "Just something Iíd been thinking about for a while.† I was never sure how to bring it up in conversation, ĎOh, honey, how would you feel about being the top, using the dildo on me, as opposed to our usual style?í† So I thought this might be a fun way to discuss it."

"Oh, yeah, I think it was fun."

"If I may say so, I think you relished your role.† Really rose to the occasion, so to speak."

I really did, and as I lay back down against my wife, I remember that day, five years ago today, when we first made love, and she touched me the way no one had ever touched me before.† And I think of how I have never stopped enjoying the way she touches me or the way I touch her.† And I know, as I have known all along, that the trust we have in each other is what allows us to take chances, to be adventurous in our lovemaking, to do things we never thought we could do.

And I know her well enough to know that she cannot resist her final comment:† "You big old stud you."


To my wife for our anniversary:† Thank you for changing my life forever, five years ago, August 31, 2001.

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