NOTE: I hope this chapter isn't too kinky for those of you who enjoyed the first two chapters, but if it is, I encourage you to read it anyway even if only for the plot resolution.
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What happened after that Super Bowl weekend taught me a lot. The most amazing thing to me was not just that Damon committed to loving me; it was how smoothly and comfortably he slipped right into living openly in a gay relationship with me. I'd had so many worries and fears about how to live my own life, worrying about how to come out to people, worrying about how others would react to me, about rejection, even possible violence toward me. Damon on the other hand just changed his life overnight and never even raised an eyebrow.
After identifying as a purely straight man all his life, it was even more amazing to me what a non-issue it was for Damon to fall in love with a boy. I think most males would have freaked out, panicked, had a tragic crisis of identity, crying all over themselves in self-absorbed misery, wondering, "Why me?!" But that wasn't Damon. His attitude proved that he's an actual real man, not a collection of imitated behaviors. Clearly it takes great confidence to so graciously accept such an unexpected and stigmatized reality, and Damon didn't hesitate for an instant to show his love for me. For this reason, and a thousand others, Damon is a devastatingly amazing man.
I officially moved in with Damon when my 6-month lease expired, just a few weeks after that first, unforgettable night we spent together. I was amazed at how quickly our bond strengthened. We both just had to spend all our time together, and we did, every single night. I was truly living my fantasy life. I was finally experiencing all the wonderful emotions, the sweet romantic moments, big and small, the companionship, and yes, the sex, that previously I only yearned for. I very quickly became totally attached to Damon, compelled to please him in every way, and he took full advantage of that.
Just as I was bound to him in my own way, Damon's tie to me was equally strong, but had a very different manner of expression. I don't think Damon noticed himself becoming so extremely possessive of me in just the first few days of our romantic relationship. He would constantly have his hands on me when we were together. Even out in public, there was always an arm around my shoulders or sides, holding me next to him, or a hand near my neck, subtly guiding my direction. Like I said, I don't think he noticed how frequent these gestures were. It seemed to be his natural instinct to behave that way with the one he loved. It was that primal part of his mind that needed to let everyone, me included, know, "This is mine. Don't touch."
In private also, he frequently reminds me that I am his. When we're watching something on the television, he holds me on top of him, lying on the couch. Sitting on the love-seat, he holds me tight, squished between him and the armrest. Every night, before we go to sleep, he pulls me over to his side of the bed and holds me however he wants. Maybe he doesn't notice how often he does these things, but I do, every single time. And I cherish each and every one of them. I love being Damon's!
Of course, sex was another story all together. In the bedroom, Damon was totally deliberate in and aware of his dominance. When it's just the two of us in our apartment, let me tell you, that man makes my world turn, day and night! How better for Damon to assert his dominion than to grab me, throw me down right there on the spot, wherever in the apartment we are, get on top of me, and then to get inside of me? To open my hole up and to carve out a cozy, warm home for that huge fuck rod of his in my butt. To ram it in repeatedly, making me feel it, ensuring there can be no question nor doubt about who's the man in the relationship. And ultimately, to breed my ass with his warm, juicy cum.
Damon could not only fuck me into unearthly physical pleasure, but he was also able to fuck me into genuine submission, which gives me the most intense rushes of my life. I'm still rather shy, but when we're in bed, Damon fucks that shyness right out of me. He can turn me into such a cock-addicted slut that you'd think my last fix was months ago, when in actuality it was probably just last night, or maybe only an hour ago.
We just celebrated our first anniversary, partly with something special I'd planned in hopes of making it the perfect night for Damon. I wanted him to be so happy he'd never forget it. I got home early from work and tried to distract myself with the television while I waited near the window so I could see Damon pulling in to his parking spot. When he finally arrived, I started to get ready. I'd had a persisting erection all day long from anticipating the coming moments! At last, I was going to get release. I had an anxious, eager feeling that tonight would be something spectacular.
I hurried to the bedroom and stripped off all my clothes and threw them into the laundry hamper. I went to the drawer in my nightstand and pulled out the special surprise inside of the plastic Victoria's Secret bag I got while shopping last week.
I was thinking to myself, "I can't believe I'm actually doing this," as I put on the hot pink girls' panties. They were thin and satin, and like a bikini they covered my thighs very little. The panties were almost uncomfortable, fitting so snugly against my shaved completely hairless dick, balls and butt that my hard-on was restrained over to my left thigh.
Damon had playfully suggested the idea of me wearing girls' underwear for him a few times in the past, but I wasn't 100% sure he was serious about it at first. Plus I felt a bit awkward about it, so I avoided the subject, and Damon stopped asking. It's not that I didn't want to do it; if he'd asked even just one more time I think I would have agreed. I sincerely enjoyed doing anything that would bring my man pleasure. I'd just never been into cross-dressing or anything, so it was a very new and foreign idea. But his suggestion kept playing in my mind as I wondered if it was something he actually wanted me to do for him.
A big part of how we've learned about each other's sexual desires has been the two of us sitting together, often naked, reading erotic stories on the Internet. Two weeks ago, I was sitting on Damon's lap while we read a fantasy story that had strong elements of emasculation. It was obvious from the movement going on underneath me that Damon was enjoying the humiliation of the guy being dressed up in slutty feminine attire. Damon didn't bring it up again, but he didn't have to. Right then, I knew he'd really enjoy it, and I knew I wanted to do this for him.
After adjusting the panties, I put on the little black leather collar Damon had bought for me. Written on the tag were the words, "DAMON'S BITCH". I smile whenever I look at it, and when it's around my neck, I always feel so good. Damon knows I love it, and it's obvious how much he likes me in it, too. I attached the matching leather leash to the collar and secured the other end to the wooden bedpost at the head of the bed. I got up on the bed on all fours facing the open bedroom door, and waited nervously for Damon to come in to take a shower like he usually does.
I felt really vulnerable in that position, wearing what I was wearing. I think it was just because I was nervous that I was suddenly doubting my interpretation of Damon's desire for me to wear this. I quickly lost my hard-on from the sudden fear that my man wouldn't enjoy this. I can't explain why, because it's simply not logical, but I couldn't help it. I suppose I've always done this. I devise a rational plan, and feel confident in it. When I enact the plan though, 100 alternate possibilities, and impossibilities, no matter how unrealistic, flood my mind. Then I freak out, feeling like I hadn't thought things over enough, certain that the worst case scenario is actually far worse than I'd imagined, and that it's also the most likely one.
I heard the front door open, then close, and Damon called out, "Hey, Eddy! I'm home!" I stayed quiet, partly because I wanted to be a total surprise, and partly because I was almost hoping that I'd luck out due to some unexpected turn of events deterring Damon from coming in, allowing me to scratch the whole plan and reconsider the idea.
No such luck though. When Damon walked in only seconds later, I made eye contact briefly with him, smiling nervously and hopefully, then looked down at my hands, waiting for his reaction. He didn't say anything, and I was too scared to look at him. In the next few agonizingly long seconds, Damon still silent, I figured he must've been disgusted with me or something. I hated myself at that moment. I felt I'd just ruined our anniversary night. Feeling like I was about to cry, I closed my eyes tight as I wondered how I could have been so stupid.
