If you missed it, here’s the link to Part One of this free erotica series.
“Sure, handsome. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about anyway, and we need to have a rational conversation about this sans alcohol.” She went rummaging around for a T-shirt and sweats–her favorite time for a talk clothes–when Kev gentled her elbow.
“You don’t need to put anything on. We’re staying put, remember?”
“I don’t want you agreeing to my proposal just because you like the way my bare breasts sway when I flail my arms to articulate a point. I need to know you’re listening.”
Kev sighed in grudging approval.
“Listen, sweetie. I like my work and I know you like yours. The last few months have been pretty intense career-wise and we’re on the verge of taking each other for granted. That happens. Men get pot bellies and their ladyloves morph into harridans and harpies.”
“That won’t happen to us,” Kev assured her, though his eyes surreptitiously searched the room as if expecting an objet d’art or talisman to confirm his hopes.
Just recently she had started nagging him about his drinking, though he never quaffed more than a few beers and he always called to tell her he loved her and he’d be home soon. Due to a dysfunctional upbringing, Fiona had to follow a byzantine set of rules in order to justify–and enjoy–even one alcoholic beverage. If Kev wanted to take the edge off after a long day, he did so with one of his colleagues. This arrangement worked fine until Fi started calculating ways Kevin could make better use of his time. He could be home getting a lavish, almond-oil scented massage from his girlfriend, for example. Depending on Fi’s mood (and lucky for Kev, she was always in the mood) a “happy ending” to that massage would probably ensue, which sounded better to Fi than sitting on a bar stool complaining about one’s students.
They’d had a huge row over this conflict which resulted in Fiona admitting the occasional beer or whiskey would not send Kev spiraling down that stygian road to addiction. She agreed she needed to lighten up a little.
Kevin smiled in remembrance of the makeup sex, which had been fantastic enough to warrant another row. Still, he ran a palm over his abs to make sure he wasn’t getting a gut. He looked at Fiona and was struck by the knowledge he couldn’t imagine a day without her.
“Okay, darling. What do you have in mind?”
Fiona took a deep breath. “All my friends are in BDSM relationships. Why can’t we have one of those? Not forever, mind. Just for, say . . . a week for starts. If it’s fun, a month or two. Two months, tops. Then we go back to reading The New Yorker and pretending we never did anything kinky.”
Kev went over to the dresser to retrieve his spectacles. He cleaned the lenses with the crotch panel of one of Fi’s cotton thongs he appropriated for the singular purpose of providing a Wondrous Gift to Humanity with scratch-free vision. He bought his girlfriend some cotton bikinis with Mondrian and Paul Klee type motifs he thought were sexier. Kev wouldn’t hurt his lover for anything, but he considered thongs window dressing for strippers and porn workers.
After donning his glasses, he nodded thoughtfully and said, “I think I can compartmentalize a cock suck or two. With you as my sex Sherpa I’d be happy to travel anywhere.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Kev touched the sleeve of his girlfriend’s plain white T-shirt and was instantly aroused. This is why he was with her and why–despite the offers he received from energetic, attractive students on a weekly basis–he only had eyes for the one he loved. He was addicted to the daily intimacies and astonished by how even holding her toothbrush could turn him on. Her lips were on these bristles, he’d think, and that thought would jump-start images of her mouth on his cock.
“So, I’ll acquiesce to a little role play, sure. But I will not, under any circumstance, answer to the word Master. Responding to a ukase with ‘Yes, Master,’ will turn me decidedly OFF.”
Fiona considered this. “What should I call you, then? Sir?”
Kevin stroked his chin while debating the curious conundrum of submissive salutations. “How about Professor? I am a teacher, after all. Drives me crazy in class sometimes, the lack of respect. If one more pothead calls me ‘Dude’ I’m going take the joint he’s smoking and burn his composition with it.”
Fiona twined her arms round her sweetheart’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Professor. It’s high time someone showed you the respect you deserve.”
Liking the sound of that, Kev kissed his girlfriend till Fiona thought she might faint from happiness.
Reluctantly, she pulled away to tell him something. “I just want you to know this isn’t about jumping on the BDSM bandwagon. If everyone jumped off a bridge wearing collars and chains we wouldn’t jump off a bridge wearing collars and chains. This is about us.”
Kev caressed his lover’s soft curves, letting his hands rest on her hips. “I know. I have a feeling you’re going to teach me to accept a ponderous kind of love. A deep abiding fulfillment with a pendulum swinging from adoration to worship. It freaks me out a little. I’ve never been with a woman who wanted to flat out worship me.”
“Let me,” she half begged, half demanded. “Just let me.”
He nodded his consent and she beamed with delight.
He opened the door to something deeper for them both and she waltzed right in.
End of Part Two.
Thanks to Evan Jones for his beautiful illustration.