God

There is just something special about M.  He's certainly gorgeous, funny, and an overall nice guy but there is just that something.  I've never met anyone who exudes sexiness the way he does.  This sexiness is nothing intentional or flamboyant, it's simply M.  I have yet to find something he does or says that isn't sexy. From his handwriting, his voice, his walk, the way he smells, the way he holds his drink, his people skills, his smile, his gaze, the way he sometimes slightly nibbles on his thumb, his laugh, and I haven't even mentioned actual sex.  Hell, the man even drives his car sexy.  I kid you not.  He's incredibly sexy, without even knowing it.

I like watching him from afar, sitting at the bar nursing a beer.  He's wearing a black shirt and I like him in black.  I don't go over to him right away, instead I make my rounds and say hello to a few people.  Its always a comfort when he visits me at work.  I can't explain why, but I feel safer, sexier if he's there.  I'm able to loosen up and forget my insecurities for a moment.

Once my night is over I come by his place.  I get there a few seconds before M arrives and we share a brief embrace in his carport.  We step inside only to be greeted by the smell of gas, as M's father accidentally left the stove on.  M turns off the stove with slight annoyance and turns on the fan before taking me to his bedroom.

Once I'm in his bedroom I fight the urge for wildness.  I want to rip his clothing from his body and fuck him hard and quickly to orgasm.  But at the same time I know it would be much more pleasurable to draw it out a bit, to let M lead and use me as he wishes.  I take off my pants and socks but leave on my bra, panties, and sweater.  We kiss for a moment and I admire the sweetness of his mouth.  I sit at the end of the bed while M undoes his pants.  I immediately suck him once he is sprung free.  Sucking M is almost a necessity for me.  I admit that I have always enjoyed cock sucking, but with M it has spiraled into something much more than just 'giving a blowjob,' for me.  I suck him, lick his balls, while M's hands roam my head, guiding my pace and pushing more cock into my needy mouth.

M feels inclined to taste me, which is not something he does very often.  I'm not a huge fan of receiving oral sex.  It can feel very good if I'm in the mood for it, but it turns me on more to suck him or lick his balls.  I've never climaxed from oral sex and due to my shyness it can be a bit embarrassing for me.

 He licks and sucks me gently before exploring me with his fingers.  I could have come at that moment, with his fingers inside me, but I hold back.  Before long he's fucking me as I lie on my back, my legs spread.  His hand tightly grasped upon my throat.  His hold is much tighter than the usual choke fucking I receive.  I can still breathe, but it's difficult and I don't get much air.  I don't mind and I don't worry about the lack of oxygen.  It's an incredible turn on, and there is something sexy about placing my life in M's hands.  I realize that sounds insane and I certainly wouldn't be able to achieve this level of confidence in just anyone, but its purely out of love, mutual respect, and trust that I am able to let go of fear.  He could choke me harder, longer, whenever he pleases, and it would not change.

M is fucking me with slow, deep strokes.  Each thrust has a faint hint of roughness to it.  It's perfect.  Sublime.  He whispers to ask me if I'm his bitch.  "Yes," I whisper back.  "Say it," M commands.  "I'm  your bitch," I whisper back.  I ask him to stop fucking me and let me suck his cock again.  He demands that I beg.  I am on the brink of orgasm and I desperately want to delay it.  I know that if I come now, I will not be able to do so quietly.  I think he must sense the ploy because he doesn't stop stroking for a few moments, pushing me dangerously close before I take him into my mouth.

I climb on top of him and we enjoy each other.  We kiss, M gently sucks my breasts, and I try to run from my orgasm again.  M holds me against him and shoves my panties into my mouth.  I roll him on top of me and he comes inside of me.  He lays on top of me for a while, draining every bit of himself into my body while I continue to lay there with panties shoved in my mouth.

 Eventually he removes my panties and climbs off of me, laying on the other side of the bed.  He grabs my hand and motions for me to join him, so that he can hold me as he falls asleep. I resist.  I want his comfort in the worst way, yet I can't take it.  I curl up into myself and attempt to sort through my emotions.  Lately, I  feel chaotic bliss after I climax.  I also feel angry.  Angry at M.  Angry at the control he has over my body.  Even though I wish for him to have control over me, it scares me once it is over.  I feel conflicted.  I don't know whether I want to cry, bare my soul, or slap M from his slumber.  Fucking M is becoming more like a confession for me.  I've been over analyzing, worried that I am no longer as pleasing as I once was.  That he no longer thinks of me as beautiful.  I've felt increasingly insecure lately and I fear that as my adoration grows for M, he will only grow boredom for me.  Perhaps most submissives feel this, as the most important thing for many submissives is to be pleasing.  To be anything but ordinary.  To be treasured.

My tears gather, but never fall.  I curl up next to M and he awakens enough to plant a few gentle kisses and pull me closer to him.  I listen to his breathing, his heart, and rest my head against him for a short nap before heading home.  When I'm certain he's fallen back to sleep I whisper to him that I love him.  Then I close my eyes.