So she said, “There are dykes who’ll do you. They’ll bring you off with their hands, they’ll lick you till you come. Or they might put their knee, yeah, there. And kind of pulse you while they squeeze your, uh, breasts.”

“And that knee thing would get you off, would it?”

Woman on the left, she never takes those pants off. (Girl on the right leaves her hat on.)

“Um… It has done. No, stop it! I’m trying to tell you something. Anyway, they’re stone cold dykes because they don’t let you touch them. They get your clothes off and they get you off, but they keep their clothes on and you don’t do anything to them, and they don’t come. Not with you, I mean me.”

“Well, that’s not me. Here. I’ve got my clothes off, I don’t know if you noticed…”

“Yeah, but -“

“And I haven’t got any come left …”

“Yeah, but -“

“It’s all in you.”

“Idiot. Silly man. Oh. Ah-huh. There might be a bit more, you know.” I leaned back and let her stroke her handful of soft cock. She was right. It wasn’t completely soft any more. “Okay, but you came in me because you fucked me. That’s physiology. But I didn’t get to fuck you; you never let me. You controlled me – that was interesting, by the way; that was good. I loved it. But I never controlled you. I lost it completely, I don’t think I knew the bed was here, I don’t think I even knew who I was. But you didn’t lose it at all, ever. You were completely in control of yourself. You stayed cold. You see?”

“Well, maybe. but I like being in charge. That’s sexy, for me. So of course I was getting off.” 

“Yes. Up to a point.” My cock stirred, and staggered upright, just able to lift its own weight, as she said that. So she gave her attention to stroking it, and repeated, “up to a point”, over and over. I relaxed and let her, but eventually, half hard, I took her hand and stopped her.

She smiled, as if she’d won her point. “See what I mean? You have to stay in control. It’s okay. It’s just … I can’t see how you can have as good a time as I’m having.”

“Like this. Suck my cock.”

“Just like that? That’s not a very romantic thing to say.”

“Suck my cock right now, or I’ll spank you till your arse is the colour of a stop sign.”

“I didn’t really like it, much, when you spanked me.”

“Then if you don’t want another spanking, you’d better…” And her mouth, warm and moist and sweetly soft, enveloped my cock. “Ahhh.” I wouldn’t have spanked her, since she hadn’t given me permission to do things she didn’t like. But I did know that she liked to be ordered to do things.

So I made myself comfortable, pushing a little deeper and resting one hand on the back of her head, exactly because a gentleman doesn’t do that. I thought, as her head bobbed steadily, that I’d won something, though not necessarily the argument. 

I’ll be getting back to Ana soon.  

Tomorrow I’ll resume the story about when I was a probation officer, and I had a client called Ana who I passionately wanted to put over my knee. Though the things I wanted went some way further than that. 

Anyway, I won’t do spoilers, but for a while Ana and I did fall naturally into a kind of bdsm relationship, where I’d give her orders, and she’d brat me a bit and then do as she was told. Since it was a professional relationship involving legal authority, and I was – just – clutching onto the last shreds of my professionalism, the “orders”were things like “go to that job interview”, and “do that training course”.

Sure, I wanted to give her other orders, like, “take that off and get up on that desk”. But this is the real world, and the story is true. 

Still, although I wasn’t getting any of the services that doms usually get from the person who’s submitting to them, I was still enjoying the tension between us, and I knew, even then, that she was too. It’s a fairly subtle way to have a sexual relationship, but that is what it was.

Ah, simply rope.

Anyway, long after I’d stopped working as a probation officer, I had a brief relationship with a girl who liked men fine, but it happened that she’d only fucked women for the last couple of years. I was her first man-fuck in ages. I was also the first ever to show her any sort of bdsm, since she’d asked me about it. Getting spanked didn’t do much for her (nor did crops, or nipple clamps), but she liked being tied.

She liked being commanded, too, and she loved having things done to her, that she was helpless to prevent. 

After we’d fucked ourselves too hungry and tired to move, I lay on her bed thinking I’d been a satisfactory reintroduction to heterosex (not that I was trying to do any sort of conversion), and a fairly good ambassador for bdsm. She’d had a fine, noisy time.  She was worried about one thing, though. I’d done a lot of work, thinking of how things will happen, choosing and directing the scenes, making her come, and so on. She got to lose control and go crazy, and I never lost control at all. She was very happy with what had been done to her, but she wondered what I got out of it.

 “You’re like a stone cold lesbian,” she said.

I said, “I have no idea what that even means, but I bet I’m not.”

So she told me what “stone cold lesbian” means.

To be continued, as always.