A Really Nice Surprise

A fantasy written for my friend, A.S. – he knows who he is.

*****

My phone rang.

"Hi Greg. It's Dave," I heard as I answered it.

"Hello Dave. What's up?" I asked.

"I was wondering... Do you have any plans for today?" Dave inquired.

"Well, let me think. I was considering mowing the lawn, but it's not critical. So, nothing really. Why?" I replied.

"Then can you drop over to my house? I'd rather not get into it on the phone."

"This sounds mysterious, Dave. But sure, I'll be right over."

The walk to Dave's house was pleasant, the day being sunny and mild. He and Betty Lou, his wife, lived only the next block over. They were a nice, friendly couple that I had known for over a year. Dave and I were buddies, going to ball games together, borrowing each other's tools, and so on.

I rang their doorbell. After a few moments, Dave opened it.

"Come on in, Greg. Glad you were available," he said, ushering me inside.

Betty Lou was waiting near the doorway, also, with a big smile of greeting. "Hi Greg," she declared, as she wrapped her arms around me, giving me a friendly hug.

"I declare, Betty Lou, you get more lovely every time I see you," I stated with a flirting tone to my voice. But I was speaking the truth. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her luscious breasts seemed to strain against the bra whose outlines were visible beneath the t-shirt she had on. She was facing me, so I could not directly appreciate the curves of her buttocks as they pressed against her jeans, but I had seen them many times in places like the grocery store, and greatly appreciated that view every time.

Her violet colored eyes caught and held mine as her lips curled into a knowing smile. She knew that I'd been staring, and also knew the effect she had on me. "Why thank you, valiant Sir," she teased.

I was probably mildly blushing as we took comfortable seats in their living room. I regarded Dave with a questioning expression, since I was curious as to why he had asked me over.

"Greg, we've been friends and buddies for quite some time now, so I know I can depend on your discretion," he began.

I was starting to get worried. He sounded so solemn that I feared he was about to tell me he was seriously ill, or lost his job, or something. I leaned toward him, indicating he had my full attention.

He continued, "You may not have guessed that Betty Lou is what is called a submissive. She and I have a D/s relationship."

This statement was so different than what I was expecting that it took a moment to sink in. "Wait," I said. "What do those letters mean? You said 'ds' or some letters like that?"

"Oh, right. I should explain. D/s is a shorthand acronym. It's usually written out with a capital D, then a slash, then a small s. It stands for Dominance and submission," he replied.

"So you sort of dominate Betty Lou, telling her what to do, and she does it?" I paraphrased, swiveling my head to face Betty Lou, to see if she agreed.

Betty Lou nodded, with a big smile of satisfaction, as Dave continued, "Yes. The relationship can take many forms, but in our case Betty Lou loves being my sex slave, doing whatever I want, whenever I want."

"Sex slave?" I uttered, trying to wrap my mind around such a concept. "Betty Lou, he's not serious, is he?"

"He's quite serious, Greg," she assured me with a smile. Looking at her husband with an expression of adoration, she continued, "It really thrills me to satisfy his every whim in this area, whether here in our house, or elsewhere, like his office or car or at the movies." She chuckled as she concluded that statement.

Her levity convinced me that they were just having fun with me, so I figured I'd go along with this elaborate jest. Turning back to Dave, I stated in a serious tone, "Then you're an extremely lucky man. I envy you. Betty Lou is certainly a lovely woman, and must be a fantastic sex slave." This made her blush prettily.

This rather bizarre discussion continued. Dave stated quite matter-of-factly, "She's been so good I wanted to give her a special present, so I asked her to state her heart's desire."

Still going along with this quite elaborate joke, I concurred. "If she's really been good satisfying your every sexual whim, she should have special presents regularly," I said, attempting a jocular, but roguish voice.

Dave pretended I was serious. "Betty Lou asked to be allowed to be someone else's sex slave for a day. That was her request. I personally thought it was a kinky, arousing idea, something to spice up our relationship. I asked her if she had anyone in mind, and she immediately named you."

"Me?" I choked out. He sounded so sincere, it was bothering me, and I said so. "Don't you two think this joke has gone far enough? I'm amazed that you're able to keep straight faces at this point."

"It's not a joke, friend," Dave said quietly. "Betty Lou chose you, if you're willing."

"She wants..." I turned to look into her eyes... "You want to be my sex slave? Really?"

"Yes, Greg. For today, if you want it... if you want me," she replied, placing a gentle hand on my arm to show she was speaking in earnest.

I turned to face Dave. "And you're really OK with this? No strings? No repercussions? No fits of jealousy?" I was trying to believe them, but I was afraid they'd soon be laughing at my expense. But I couldn't think why they would be testing my gullibility this way.

"None whatsoever," he replied. "I'm really OK with it. In fact, I'm thrilled to share her with my buddy, like this. She and I have discussed it thoroughly, and we both think it'll enhance our relationship."

Swinging my attention back to Betty Lou, I asked, "Why me?" Now I desperately wanted to believe this might be true.

"Greg," she whispered. "I've seen the way you look at me. I feel admired every time we meet, and every woman wants to feel admired. Your smile and the hugs you give me warm my heart. At the same time, you never leer at me – always the proper gentleman – which makes me feel safe, as well. In the back of my mind, I've wanted you for months, but I would never have acted on that impulse if Dave hadn't offered me a special gift."

Somehow, the fact that she whispered this explanation to me made it convincing. "I really don't know what to say. You two have rendered me speechless."

"No real need to speak, buddy," Dave assured me. "If you want her for 24 hours, just nod."

What else could I do? I nodded, looking right at this lovely woman.

"Betty Lou, he has indicated his willingness, but I think he still doesn't believe his good fortune. Please take him into the bedroom, and convince him."

She arose and took my hand. "Please come with me," she said as she gave my hand a gentle pull.

Thinking I must be dreaming, I saw Dave pick up a book and begin to read, as if what was happening was the most common thing in the world. Leaving the living room, I wandered along behind Betty Lou as she led me down a hallway and into their bedroom. She closed the door behind us, giving us privacy.

"Now, Sir. How may I serve you?" she asked as she sank to her knees in front of me.

"You're not kidding?" I said incredulously.

Shaking her head slowly side to side, she replied, "I'm quite serious. Your 24 hours has started, and I'm now your sex slave, Greg – yours to command."

I swallowed hard to clear my throat. "Then I..." I said, hesitantly. "I've always wanted to see your breasts, Betty Lou. May I see them?"

She didn't move. She only smiled at me. I thought for sure the joke was now at an end, since she wasn't doing what I wanted. "Sir," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "I'm your slave. Please command me."

I thought I'd given her a command. But on reflection, realized it had been more of a request. Adjusting my approach, I said, "Betty Lou, stand up and show me your breasts."

Without hesitating, she stood gracefully and grasped the bottom of the t-shirt and tugged it up and off, revealing her breasts trapped in their satiny bra. Wordlessly she reached behind her back, did the magic that women do back there, and the bra came free, to be tossed onto the dresser. The luscious globes of her breasts wobbled and swayed, freed from their prison.

They were better than I had ever imagined. Her areolae were almost half-dollar sized, and shaded a mixture of brown and pink. Her nipples were the size and shape of new pencil erasers, poking forward from the center of the crinkled areolae that surrounded them. I was about to say, "May I touch them?" when I realized that wouldn't be a command. My innate shyness would be my undoing, if I didn't overcome it. Betty Lou needed to be dominated – I understood that – but trying to act dominant was not yet second nature to me.

"Come here, and place your breasts in my hands," I ordered her, holding my cupped hands up in front of my chest.

"Gladly, Sir," she whispered, stepping forward. She actually lifted them in her hands to lower them into mine, as if giving me an offering. "But Sir, you don't have to be so formal, if it pleases you. You can call them 'tits' or 'boobs' or 'jugs' – anything you wish. I don't find those terms offensive.

My hands were busy, kneading the warm, soft flesh that more than filled my palms. I couldn't believe how silky they felt. They weren't stiff. They actually felt like bags of warm butter to my touch. Maybe it was the circumstances, but they were the most erotic breasts I had ever felt. "Your... tits," I said with only a moments hesitation before using the word, "are amazing, Betty Lou. I've never felt anything so wonderful." She purred happily at my compliment, because she could hear it was heartfelt.

"I'm going to sit on the edge of the bed, and I want you to press your nipples to my lips for suckling. Understand?" I stated.

"Yes, Sir. It will be my pleasure to do so," she whispered erotically. "And since I am your slave, please feel free to call me 'girl', 'slut', 'whore' or 'bitch' – things like that – if any of them pleases you."

Positioning myself on the edge of the bed, I sat and suckled her wonderful tits, one after the other, listening to her happy sighs as her nipples engorged even more from my oral attentions. I was finally convinced that these two people were serious. Betty Lou was my playmate for the time being.

"Get the rest of your clothes off, girl," I said with a voice choked with emotion. "I want to see all of you."

She stepped back to give me a better view as she unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. I noticed a dark patch on the crotch of her jeans as she lowered them. "Are those wet?" I asked.

Soundlessly, she stepped out of her jeans and placed them into my hands for examination. "Yes, Sir. So are my panties," she confirmed, as she dragged them down her thighs and legs to step free of them, as well. "They're sopping wet, Sir. Having my tits sucked on really gets me going."

The wet patch on her jeans was fragrant. I guessed that her juices would taste as good as they smelled. "Hand me your panties, you horny slut," I commanded with a smile and a pleasant tone of voice. I think Betty Lou's blush deepened as she gave me the cotton undergarment, because it was indeed fully soaked and dripping, unable to hold any more fluid.

I brought her panties to my nose, sniffed them appreciatively, and with Betty Lou watching, tipped my head back and let the drips from her panties fall into my open mouth. I squeezed the cloth gently and got a nice mouthful of her juice. I let her see me hold the fluids in my mouth, tasting her for the first time, and then swallowing. She beamed a smile at me.

"Kneel, tilt your head back, and open your mouth, girl," I commanded with mock sternness. As she complied, I held her panties over her mouth, and wrung more fluids from them. "Good girl," I complimented, as she held her pose, mouth holding her cunt juices, waiting for instructions. "Close your mouth and swallow." I watched her throat ripple as she drank the cunt juice wrung out of her panties.

"Now show me your..." I hesitated an instant, thinking 'vagina' but realizing that would sound too clinical, "...cunt, slut," I concluded.

The way that Betty Lou's eyes lit up when I gave this command indicated I was setting the right tone with her. I was gradually getting used to the idea of commanding her as my sex slave.

"My pleasure, Sir," she replied happily. She stood up and tilted her pelvis back. Apparently deciding I should have a better view, she bounded up onto the bed next to me. The movement made her tits wobble in a mesmerizing fashion – my eyes were drawn to them. But my focus shifted immediately when Betty Lou rolled away from me onto her back, planted her feet wide apart on the bed covers, and used her hands to part her labia.

Leaning on one hand to brace myself, I moved in for a close look. Her pussy had a strip of blonde hairs running upward from above the point that her labia joined – the rest of her area was shaved smooth and clean. She was stretching her labia so far to each side that the head of her clit peeked out of its hood, perched right above the tiny mound surrounding her pee hole. My eyes traveled downward to look at her juicy vaginal hole, which sort of winked as it dilated and contracted – either a natural reaction, or because Betty Lou was working her internal muscles. Either way, it was a lovely sight.

The fragrance of her well lubricated cunt wafted into my nostrils. I wanted to taste that cunt of hers, but couldn't think of a way to command it, and certainly didn't want to break the spell by asking her permission. It didn't occur to me until later that since she was my sex slave at that point, I could've just taken anything I wanted without asking. For the moment, I stated, "Show me how you pleasure yourself with your fingers, Betty Lou."

I watched carefully as she dipped her index finger into her cunt, wetting it. Her lubed finger began gliding on either side of her clit, not quite touching it, but the pressure making it bend slightly left and right as the finger passed. After several passes, she dipped her index and middle finger into her cunt juices, and ran them in a forking fashion up and down on either side of her very swollen clit. Each time the fingers sawed downwards, they caught the clit base and bent its head downwards, the fingers now grazing its sensitive tissues. Her breathing accelerated.

Without a hint of shame or embarrassment, she began finger fucking her cunt with her other hand in a counterpoint rhythm to the forked fingers stroking her clit. Her moans and gasps grew in intensity. She pressed her feet hard enough into the bed to raise her ass completely off it, giving me an excellent view of her erotic manipulations. Her pussy glistened with gooey wetness as her fingers now made squishy noises as they plunged in and out.

I really wanted to eat that cunt, now more than ever! My bedazzled brain finally came up with a way to order it. Stretching out on the bed on my back alongside her, I said, "Feed your pussy to me, girl."

Grinning radiantly, she quickly straddled my face and lowered her sopping pussy to my mouth. I heard her sighs as my lips and tongue began sampling this intimate delicacy she offered. Mimicking what I had seen her do, I first ran the tip of my tongue up and down on either side of her clit, making her moan with pleasure. Next, I pressed the clit down with tongue strokes, released it, letting it bounce back up, and then pressed it down again, over and over. Her moans intensified, and I think she understood what I planned to do next, and was anticipating it.

Unable to hold back any longer, I speared my tongue into her cunt tunnel. Seizing her hips, I pulled her pelvis down to drive my tongue as deeply into her as I could. Her clit ended up near my nose, so I exhaled lustily to wash it with warm air as my hands pinned her in place and my tongue began curling and uncurling in her depths. Her hands grabbed handfuls of my hair as she cried out noises of ecstasy. I felt her pelvis quivering in a pre-orgasmic dance.

"Ohhh fuck! I'm going to cum," she called out in warning.

Perhaps she was unsure if I wanted her to cum like this, so I nodded encouragement and sped up my internal cunt lapping slightly.

And cum, she did. I felt her cunt muscles begin contracting rhythmically on my tongue as her pussy juices cascaded into my eager mouth. Her quivering movements vibrated her clit against my nose, which may have increased or prolonged her orgasm. I ate her cunt until she stopped shaking and sighed, then released her so she could flop down alongside me on the bed.

She covered her eyes, saying, "My God! That was wonderful! You did that perfectly! I came like firecrackers!" Impulsively, she kissed me in appreciation – a deep, soulful kiss. I was shocked to realize that I had eaten this lovely woman's pussy before ever really kissing her lips like this. Over the years, I'd spent months kissing other women before they even let me touch their pussy. Maybe I'm not expressing how this turnabout in the normal sequence of interpersonal behavior hit me like a ton of bricks, but it did.

Mentally stunned, I held her in my arms, thrilled by her proximity, her scent, her warmth. She was naked, and I was still fully clothed. I became aware of how my cock was painfully straining inside my pants. I noticed Betty Lou was looking at my tented crotch, and I blushed like a schoolboy.

"Sir, may I speak freely?" she inquired.

"Yes. My rule is that I always want you to speak freely, Betty Lou," I replied.

"Greg," she said, addressing me, "you appear to be almost as turned on as I was a moment ago. I'm only your slave, and you're in charge, but..." she paused, then continued, "...don't you think we should do something about this?" She pointed at my hidden erection.

"You mean that would be OK? Dave wouldn't mind?" I asked incredulously.

"Sir, please try to understand. Dave's thrilled that I picked you as my gift. He's given me the freedom to please you sexually in any manner that you wish." Her face colored a fetching shade of red. "You've already made me cum, and I want to return the favor, if it's your wish. Speaking bluntly, any or all of my holes are available for your use. But if you just want to hold me, touch me, taste me – that's also fine. You're in charge."

"Would you want me to wear a condom?" The words blurted out of my mouth before I could stop myself. But I wanted this woman so badly now, I had to know. Images of driving my rigid cock into her cunt were flooding my mind. I didn't want to wait another moment, but I wasn't carrying around any condoms.

Her smile increased in radiance a smidgen. "No, Sir. That will not be necessary. This sex slave would love to be a receptacle for your cum."

I stopped breathing for a moment. No woman had every been so blatant about wanting me to fuck her and shoot my seed into her! My cock twitched inside my pants. There was a wet spot forming on my clothing, but I didn't care if she noticed.

Standing up, I said, "Very well, slut. Since you want my cock that badly, undress me."

She fairly jumped off the bed to stand beside me. Her nimble fingers undid my shirt buttons in a flash. Before I knew it, I was nude from the waist up. She knelt and undid my shoe laces, and slipped off my shoes and socks. Still kneeling, she slowed down her movements as she unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and carefully unzipped my pants, keeping the zipper clear of my bulge.

Lowering my pants to the floor, she helped me step free of them. All that was left were my briefs, the front of which had a dark wet spot from the precum that had oozed from my cock. As if she was unwrapping some wonderful treasure, Betty Lou grasped the waistband of my briefs and eased them forward and down, allowing my cock to spring free. I stood fully naked now, cock standing at full attention. I hoped – I prayed – that Betty Lou would not find the sight of my body disappointing. I'm not some athletic hunk of a man. Lately, women seem to not even take notice of me when I walk past them.