Now and Forever--Let's Make Love (11 page)

“Do that for another minute and I’ll come in your mouth,” Tony said, his voice raspy with passion.

With his cock still in her mouth, Jill looked up at her husband through her lashes. It came as a surprise to her that although
she had never let him come in her mouth before, she wanted him to do just that. She wanted to be able to experience his orgasm
fully. While flicking the tip of her tongue over the tip of Tony’s cock, Jill stroked the tender area between the base of
his scrotum and his anus.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Tony gasped. She could feel the tension in his entire body. He was trying to control the
urge to release.

“Hmm,” she hummed, the sound vibrating through his body. “Hmm.” She knew the exact moment when he gave in and let his body
respond. His hips bucked and suddenly she felt her mouth fill with thick, slightly tangy fluid. She couldn’t swallow it, so
she released the tight seal on his cock and let the goo pour over his balls. Spurt after spurt of semen dribbled from her
lips and she reveled in the joy she felt, giving so much pleasure to her husband.

When his body quieted, she pulled back and placed her head on his belly.

“What brought that on?” Tony said, out of breath.

“I have no idea,” Jill answered. “It was just something I wanted to do, so I did it.”

“You can’t imagine how glad I am that you did.”

Jill lifted her head and looked at her husband. “By the way, how long had you been awake?”

“For a while. But I was being selfish, I know. It felt so good, and I was afraid that if I let you know I was awake, you’d
stop.”

Jill smiled. “I did give you pleasure, didn’t I?”

Tony grabbed Jill under her arms and pulled her up beside him. “Baby, you have no idea.” As she cuddled against him, he felt
her hard nipples rub against his side. “You know, I can show you just how much.” He pushed her onto her back. “Close your
eyes and pretend to be asleep.” He spread her legs wide apart.

“Hmm,” Jill purred, then made a few fake snoring sounds. Jill and Tony didn’t get back to sleep for an hour.

We all know that it’s hard to con a kid. They are usually smarter than any of us. Since I love stories about children, I thought
I’d slip one more in as an example of how difficult it is to get anything past our progeny.

• • •

One afternoon, a six-year-old boy approached
his mother. “Mom,” be asked, “how old are you?”

“Son,” she explained, “there are some questions that it isn’t polite to ask any woman, even your mother.”

“Oh,” he said. “Okay, how much do you weigh?”

The mother chuckled. “You know, honey, you’ve just found one of the only other questions it’s really impolite to ask anyone.”

“Oh,” he said again.

“You’re full of questions today,” the mother said. “Maybe you have one I can answer.”

“Mom, why did Dad move out?”

“Well son, we decided it’s better for us to live apart for a while. I’ll explain more about this sort of thing when you’re
older.”

“Okay.”

As the six-year-old left the kitchen, he was accosted by his eight-year-old brother. “You don’t have to ask her that stuff,”
the brother said. “Let’
s
get her driver’s license. It’s all on there.”

A few minutes later, the six-year-old returned to the kitchen. “Mom, I know everything.”

“You do?” the mother said.

“Yes. I know you’re thirty-three years old and you weigh one hundred and twenty-nine pounds. And I know why Dad left, too.”

“Oh? Why was that?”

“You got an
F
in sex.”

Many people have fantasies that involve either being in complete control of a sexual situation or giving up control to their
partner. The captive of the swashbuckling pirate, the victim of the clever temptress, the prisoner in a dungeon. And these
stories aren’t limited to the man wanting control and the woman wanting to surrender. Dominant women figure in both male and
female fantasies.

The ultimate control fantasy is the dream rape—a woman being subdued by a handsome, considerate, yet totally overpowering
stranger and forced to endure and enjoy all the forbidden things he does to her body. And, during the fantasy rape, she finds
she cannot help but become excited. This fantasy rape forms the basis of many of the scenes from books and movies, the most
famous being the scene in which Rhett carries Scarlett, kicking and screaming, up the wide stairs to the bedroom.

I don’t intend to get into any psychobabble here about why these exist or whether they indicate some severe problem in childhood.
I will say only this: I’ve played both the submissive and dominant roles with my partner and I find both tremendously enjoyable.
And I had a well-balanced, healthy childhood.

Irrespective of where they originate, control fantasies exist and can be some of the most erotic to act out with your partner.
If you’ve never tried being in complete control, or surrendering complete control, open your mind and read on. Of course,
if these fantasies are a turnoff for you and you have no thought of ever trying even a mild version of control, skip to the
next section.

What’s the lure of the control fantasy?

The controller is free to do whatever he wants, and/or to “force” his partner to do whatever he wants done to his body.

The controllee is freed from the responsibility of pleasing her partner. She doesn’t have to worry about whether she’s doing
the right thing.

A warning:
In order to act out any control fantasy, several ground rules must be established from the outset. Control fantasies must
never be used to force anyone to do anything that is even mildly repugnant. Period. In order to assure that both parties are
in complete agreement, safe words must be used and the rules adhered to at all times by both parties.

A safe word is an agreed-upon word or phrase that means “Stop. Now!” Why, you are asking, can’t one partner just use the word
stop
? I can tell you from experience that saying, “Stop, please stop,” and knowing that your partner won’t, is wonderfully liberating.
It’s another way of reinforcing that you’ve surrendered control.

So decide on an unusual word that will mean “Stop, now!” to both partners—maybe
mustard
or
crankcase.
Many couples use two words,
red
for “Stop now!” and
yellow
for “Stop for a moment; my foot’s asleep.”

Once you’ve agreed on the safe words, both of you must agree on how they are to be used. The one in control must agree that
the use of this word means to stop immediately and that, if it is used, he will do exactly that—immediately and without hesitation
or blame. Mutual trust is an imperative. If you don’t trust your partner to stop when you say so, or to say “Stop” when he
or she wants to, don’t play.

The one who is to be controlled must agree to use the word if things get the least bit uncomfortable. This isn’t an endurance
contest, and the controllee must never let things continue “just” to please a partner. Consider that if you do, or have done
to you, something you hate, it will be a long time before you will get into that situation again. So much for the frequency
of sex.

An agreement to use a safe word frees both partners. The one in control can now do anything—and I do mean
anything
—that he has dreamed of, with the assurance that if his partner wants to end things, she will say so. The controllee can allow
things to continue just a moment or two longer than she might otherwise, knowing that everything will cease the moment she
wants it to. A safe word can be like the sleeping pill you keep next to the bed. You sleep very well knowing you can take
it if you need to.

Now that we understand the rules of the game, the next step is to find out whether your partner might be interested in sharing
your fantasy. Earlier in this book, I discussed the idea of bookmarking. Slip a bookmark into one of the stories in this section
(or any other, of course) and let your partner slowly, in private, adjust to something that might be completely new. Maybe
you’ll find that he or she has had a control fantasy for a long time but has never found a way of sharing that with you. You,
on the other hand, were willing to take the risk of revealing that you’d like to play this type of game.

Another way to discover such a desire is in the heat of the moment. Let’s say your partner is doing something you particularly
enjoy. Say to him, “Don’t stop!” Then, when he does stop, as he will at some point, say forcefully, “I didn’t tell you that
you could stop.” You might discover that your partner obediently continues the previous activity. Or your radar might reveal
that he or she is suddenly very quiet, or very active, or behaves in a more turned-on way. Take that as a cue that he might
enjoy it if you became more dominant from time to time.

Don’t discuss it yet; just consider ways to act on what you now know.

Let’s begin with a simple form of control.

Bill and Kathy had been spending overnights in Atlantic City for many years, although now that they had three teenaged children,
they got away only a few times a year. They particularly enjoyed the poker machines and could spend hours sitting next to
each other, betting quarters on the outcome of each new deal. They looked over each other’s shoulders as they drew royal flushes
and four or five of a kind.

Late one evening, Bill’s machine dealt him the ten, jack, king, and ace of spades and a seven of clubs. “This isn’t a bad
hand,” he said, tapping Kathy on the shoulder.

Kathy looked at his screen and grinned. “Not at all,” she said as Bill pushed the hold button beneath the four good cards.

“It would be nice, but it’s next to impossible.” Although he knew it well, he looked up at the payoff list. “One thousand
coins. That’s two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Don’t count your money yet, love.”

“I’m not.” His finger poised over the deal button, he said, “I know it’s a long shot, but how about a bargain? If this doesn’t
come in, you are mine to do with what I wish for an hour before we go to bed.”

“Okay, and if it does, you have to buy me the best dinner in town with your winnings.”

“Done,” Bill said, pressing the button. The seven of clubs became the jack of diamonds. “Ah well, at least I have a paying
pair.”

They played the machines for another hour, had a few good hands, and finally cashed in and walked out, having lost about ten
dollars between them for the evening. “Nightcap?” Bill asked.

“Nah. I had three of those delicious Bloody Marys at the machine. I’m a bit tipsy as it is.”

Bill pushed the elevator button and said, “You know you owe me an hour of servitude.”

“Huh?” Kathy said.

“You mean you’ve forgotten our bet? The royal flush earlier?”

“Oh, right. I didn’t really think you were serious.”

“Well, I am.” The elevator doors opened, and when they were inside, he pushed the button for the third floor. “You belong
to me for an hour, starting when we get to the room.” The indicator light flashed 3 and the doors opened. “Think about that.
I can make you do anything I want. Or,” he said, pausing, “I can do whatever I want to you.” As they walked down the hall,
he pulled the room key from his pocket and handed it to Kathy. “Open it.”

Kathy took the key and opened the door. Bill placed his hand in the small of his wife’s back, guided her inside, and closed
the door behind them. In the dark, he dropped his jacket on the chair and knelt in front of his wife. He had always loved
his wife’s legs, and now he slid his hand up the outside, feeling the silkiness of her stockings. “You know,” he said, “I’ve
always thought you have the most beautiful legs of anyone in the world. I enjoy touching them, licking them, kissing them,
especially when they’re covered with your nylon stockings. But I have never gotten my fill. I always have the feeling that
you’re in a hurry.” He slid his hands around the back of Kathy’s knees and then slipped his fingers between her nylon-covered
thighs.

“I love the way you feel inside of me and I guess I get impatient.” She shuddered and her knees buckled.

“I know you do, but I want you just to stand there. You’re mine tonight, remember? Now spread your legs; I want to touch them.”

Kathy swallowed hard and moved so her feet were about twelve inches apart.

Bill rubbed his fingertips up and down her legs, caressing her calves and knees with his cheek. “God, you feel so good, so
sexy.” He felt Kathy tremble. Slowly, he stroked, each time getting deeper between his wife’s thighs, brushing her nylon-covered
pussy lightly. “Do you still keep those little cuticle scissors in your makeup kit?” He got up and flipped on the bathroom
light, which left the main room with shafts of light and deep shadow.

“Yes,” Kathy said huskily.

“Get them for me.”

Kathy found the scissors and gave them to her husband. “Now, back where you were.” She stood, legs spread, in front of her
husband. “You know,” he said, pulling her panty hose down to her thighs, “I love the feel of your legs in stockings.”

“That’s why I wear them. I love it when you touch me like this.”

“But panty hose are the devil’s invention. I can stroke your gorgeous thighs, but I can’t touch the places I want to touch.”
He quickly cut Kathy’s bikini panties up both sides. “I want to be able to touch your wet pussy.” He pulled at the front panel
and the destroyed panties were in his hand. He dropped them into the wastebasket. “I wonder what man-hater invented these
things.” He grabbed the crotch of the panty hose and cut the seam up the center, not quite to the elastic. “That’s so much
better. You can pull them back up now.”

“But baby … ”

“No
buts.
The bet was for an hour, and we have”— he looked at his watch—“forty-nine more minutes.”

Kathy pulled the hose back up over her naked flanks.