Page 402 of S is for SEX

“Well, let me ask you this first, Kelli. How did reading the questions make you feel, as a whole?” he responded.

I thought about how to respond. I didn’t want him to think I was some weirdo, but I did want him to know I was a sexual freak. I decided to be totally honest, let him know what I thought, and how they made me feel, and have him decide what was wrong with me.

“Every one of them turned me on. They made me think, and they made me horny. I answered ‘turn-on’ to all of them, mentally. And, the more I thought about them, the more I wanted you to be with me, so we could be doing all of those things,” I answered as I crossed my legs.

I thought about it after I had responded and realized that he didn’t say that he wanted to do those things, he was just trying to decide what type of person I was, probably sexually. I really needed to start thinking before I spoke.

“That is interesting, Kelli. Every one?” he asked, removing his hand from holding his chin, gesturing toward me with his open palm.

“Yes…every one of them, Erik. I do not know how you selected those questions, or what they may mean to you, but each one of them not only sounded exciting, but also made me very comfortable with what you might want me to do. Are all of them a turn-on or a turn-off for you?”

I decided to try to use his name more when I spoke to him. He did it to me all the time, completing sentences with my name, or preceding a thought or a sentence with my name. I liked it. I liked it a lot. So, maybe if I did it to him, he would like it as much as I did. I crossed my legs the other direction as I waited for his answer.

“They’re all a turn-on for me, Kelli, especially if they’re a turn-on for you. Contrary to what you or anyone for that matter thinks about ‘dominant males’, I am probably different from that common stereotype. I want, ultimately, to please you. Making you happy makes me happy.” He paused, took a breath and started speaking again.

“The thought of disappointing you makes me uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable. Additionally, the thought of making you uncomfortable sexually, or in any way for that matter, makes me feel terrible. The one advantage I have over many men is that I have a great understanding of human nature. I know, for the most part, what it is that you want, need, and desire. Maybe more so than you do.” Erik stopped speaking as the waiter approached.

“Water, tea?” the waiter asked. I raised my hand and mouthed the word water to the waiter.

As the waiter walked away, I said, “So, pleasing me makes you happy? You want to…”

“Kelli, stop.” Erik interrupted me in mid-sentence. “Stop speaking. Come and lean over here, Kelli,” he said as he leaned to the middle of the table.

I leaned forward, wondering what I had done wrong. I hoped that I had not made him mad, that I had not disappointed him, or made him uneasy with my answers or my questions. When I leaned to the middle of the table, he moved my hair to the side and spoke into my ear. As he spoke, his breath went into my ear and made me shiver. When he did this, it made me feel weak and instantly made me want him.

“Who, Kelli, owns you? Right now, right here, who owns you?” he asked.

I felt a lump in my throat as I started to answer. I opened my mouth to answer, but the words came out as a whisper and a squeak.

“You….you do. You do, sir.” The words were barely audible.

“Kelli, who owns you?”

As he asked again, he took the finger from his free hand and started sliding it back and forth across my right nipple. I felt as if I was being shocked. Oh my God, what was he doing to me? Whatever it was I loved it. I felt like I was going to vomit from being so excited. This was a degree of feeling and emotion that I had never felt before. He had me more excited by whispering these things in my ear than I had ever been by actually being physically intimate with a guy. He made me feel better sexually, by whispering things to me…these things, more so than any other man had made me feel by actually touching my flesh.

“You do, Erik. I am yours. You own me.” I leaned my head to one side and looked up into his steel blue eyes as I answered.

I had no more than made eye contact when he slid his hand from beside my face, and held my hair, to the base of my neck. Cradling my neck in his hand, he squeezed my neck and turned my head back to where it was. Continuing to hold my neck in his hand, he began to talk again, softly whispering into my ear.

“That’s a good girl. Yes, I do. I own you. You’re making me proud of you with your answers, Kelli,” he responded. His mouth was almost about to touch my ear. His warm breath against my ear and neck made me shiver again. Although it was eighty degrees outside, I felt goose bumps rise on my arms and legs.

“Now, Kelli, what are you going to do when I ask you to do something? Something sexual? What are you going to do?” he asked.

Each time he spoke, his hand tightened on my neck slightly. When he was done speaking, he would release my neck from his grasp and cradle it in his hand.

“Do it, without hesitation. Do it,” I said. The words came out of my mouth immediately. They actually came off of my tongue before I even thought about it. He was amazing at getting into my mind. I crossed my legs the other direction again. As I did, I could feel myself running down my leg and down the crack of my ass. I was so wet that it was running down my legs. I re-crossed my legs, and as I did, I actually heard the wetness. I hoped that he hadn’t heard it. This was embarrassing. I felt as if I was putty in his hands as his grip loosened from my neck.

“Continue,” he said, and leaned back into his chair.

I didn’t want this to end. This was better than sex. Oh. My. God. No, come back; squeeze my neck, whisper in my ear. How could he do that? How could he, in the middle of this, just stop and lean back into his chair? This was more than I could take. Naturally, I crossed my legs again, trying to become comfortable. I heard the squishing sound of my wetness and felt it running down my legs. Oh shit, I was wearing a dress. I was going to have a wet spot.

“Hold that thought, Erik. I have to use the bathroom,” I said as I stood.

I walked inside and made my way to the bathroom, feeling as if I had spilled something all over my lap. I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and went into one of the stalls. Standing in front of the toilet, I propped one of my feet onto the rim of the toilet and the other on the floor. I lifted my dress up and tried to wipe up the mess with the paper towels. It felt as if I was wiping with sandpaper. I looked at the moist towels and strangely felt somewhat satisfied. I tossed them into the toilet, grabbed a handful of toilet paper and attempted to wipe up the remaining mess. The toilet paper broke into pieces and rolled into little wet balls on my thighs and ass. This. Was. Ridiculous. I grabbed another handful and dabbed against myself until it was dry. I opened the stall door and began to walk back outside, feeling both embarrassed and satisfied at the same time.

As I walked through the door, exiting the inner restaurant and entering the outside area, I started to walk past a table of guys my age. My nipples were still so hard that it almost hurt. My period was way too close. Hopefully Erik and I could have some crazy sex before it started. As I walked past, I heard one say, “Look at that bitch. I’d fuck the shit out of her. Sexy whore. Dude, look.” And I saw him nod his head my direction. I walked past, acting like I didn’t hear them. Just like being in a bar, people have no respect for women. Thinking it is one thing, but saying it, especially where someone can hear? That’s so far beyond inconsiderate. I stepped to the table and sat down. When I did, Erik looked a little uneasy.

“My turn now, will you excuse me for a moment? I must go to the restroom,” he asked.

---