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She ends her celibacy with three momentous fucks.
Hearing the toilet flush I hurriedly shut the drawer. My heart raced as I hid the underwear and passed my wife in the hallway. She gave me a sleepy kiss and I stepped into the bathroom.
I shaved and showered, toweled myself off, then stood under the bright LED lighting. I felt a tingle of excitement as I slipped the underwear on. My wife isn't a small woman, so her large thong fit, although the edges of my testicles hung out the sides. I tucked in my penis and examined myself in the mirror. Since my body isn't overly 'manly' I didn't look as ridiculous as you might think. And since I have a bit of a panty fetish this was a big turn-on for me (a fetish my wife wasn't one to understand much less indulge). Patting the back of my butt I felt the panty's fabric against my ass. It was a secret thrill I would have all day at work.
Secret thrills: stealing into the panty drawer, hiding my actions from my wife, the feel of the thong along my ass crack. It was exciting to be doing this, especially since my wife and I had had settled into a relatively plain vanilla sex life. And I felt something else: Arousal at submitting to William, of giving him sexual control over me; I was living out some of the femdom/maledom pornography I occasionally viewed.
Before noon William texted asking for proof. Sneaking into the men's room I found a stall, dropped my trousers, and snapped a picture of my soft bulge encased in scarlet fabric. For good measure I snapped a picture of my backside in the thong. A minute later he texted, "Now a picture of you hard." That was easy to provide. I rubbed myself through the soft fabric. Once my erection formed, I snapped and sent a dick pic. His response: "Very good. See you after work." It took all my willpower to resist bringing myself to orgasm.
"Another night with William?" my wife asked when I headed out at seven o'clock.
"He's in town until Saturday," I explained. By now I expected to be seeing - and serving - William every night this week.
He greeted me at his motel door, barefoot, wearing lounge pants and a white robe. "This is great," he said. "What we're doing. I mean, sex with my wife is great, but there are things I wouldn't dream of doing with her."
I was afraid to ask just what else he had in store for me. Instead I asked, "Are you... dominant with her?"
He chuckled. "No, no. She's a strong woman."
Unlike me, who was subservient, submissive, easily controlled. For example, I remained standing near the door awaiting instructions. Which came as soon as he plopped himself onto the bed. He stared at me standing in front of him (like a slave on the auction block) . "Now... Take off your shirt."
I felt funny and self-conscious, but I tugged my shirttails out of my pants. Under his gaze I slowly unbuttoned the shirt, then let it fall to the floor. When he said, "Shoes and socks," I removed them as well. Last but not least was my trousers, which I unsnapped, unzipped and let fall to my ankles. He stared at me a long time, aware what his gaze was doing to me. "Turn around," he ordered.
With my back to him I stared at the door. "I feel kind of-"
"This isn't about you," he told me, cutting me off. I noticed that his demeanor had changed. He had slipped into a more authoritative role.
I stood like that for a minute or more, until I heard him get off the bed. When he was standing behind me he placed his hands on my shoulders - one was warm, the other cold from holding the beer. "But you follow orders well, so I won't have to punish you..." He ran his hands down my back, his fingernails tingling my skin, then over my ass cheeks. He pinched me hard. "Or would you like that? Getting punished?"
Even though the thought excited me I shook my head.
A hand found my stomach, pulling me backwards, closer to his body.