Daydreams & Distractions ☼ Cat & Mouse

Cat & Mouse
A Daydream & Distraction by Redbud

  • It’s not the little Mermaid, I know, but I’m still working on it.

“How old did you say you were?”
“18”
“Are you lying?” she asks. “Would you?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think I’m a little old for you,” She lightly running her fingertips over his abdomen. “Did you know, just last week, I saw a gray hair?”
“I don’t care.”
“Really? Don’t touch, just the hips, don’t reach for anything else. Yet.”
“I thought–”

“Don’t.” As she moves behind him, shirtless and the fly of his jeans open, she gives his cock a squeeze. They stand together in a back yard, inside a fenced flower garden. “I saw how you were looking at me. I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“I didn’t mean to–.”
“What?” She laughs. “Save your apologies for the conceited little cock-teases too beautiful to appreciate a good looking at.” Her hands move from his hips to his waist, then up to pinch his nipples. She bites his earlobe hard enough to make him flinch. “Tell me, did you really come here just to help me weed my garden?”

“Yes. What? I mean–”
“Tend it? Weed it? Water it?”
“I just–”
“Wanted to make sure the roses didn’t get overblown?”
She gives his cock another squeeze as she moves in front of him. “Kiss me.”
He leans.
“Don’t touch,” she says.
He doesn’t.
“So hard,” she says. “It’s been a while since I’ve held a good, solid, upright cock like yours. It arches right up. That turns me on. I like how young men’s cocks are so – upright. So – ready to be up and inside their girl. All a girl has to do is stand on her toes and lower herself. That’ll change when you get older. Did you know that? By the time your 50 your pecker won’t be quite so – upright. If you’re lucky, if you don’t smoke, if you don’t drink, your cock might just manage horizontal. And you know what else I like about your cock? I don’t have to touch it. A young man’s cock is like an over-ripe plum, ready to split with juices. A older man’s cock gets jaded. A woman has to ‘stroke’ its ego, constantly, or it wilts. Not a boy like you– how old did you say you were?”

“I’m eighteen.”
“Of course you are.”
“I am.”
“Tell me, sweetheart. Have you already masturbated thinking about me?”
“No.”
“If you again, that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he groans when she squeezes.
“So, have you already masturbated thinking about me?”
“Yes.”

“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
She quickly slips her hand down his spine, down the dark crease of his ass under the jeans, and pushes her finger into his ass. He rises to his toes and his eyes widen. “Hold it!” she warns him. “Don’t you dare.” She feels that telltale quick clamp and release as a thick pearlescent release leaps from the end of his cock. “Don’t.” She warns as she feels his anus once more tightly spasm round her finger. He’s gasping. His breath is shallow. This time his come spurts in a burble that drips in long strings and runs down the length of his cock.

“You are overflowing,” she coos. “So ready to burst, soaking your pubes, balls and jeans. So like a young man. How is it that such a middle aged woman can make a strong young man like you lose control? – with just this finger up your ass? I could press the jism right out of you. There’s a secret place I can press. Did you know that? Look at all those muscles: arms, legs, hips. But my finger can make you spurt. Should I make you spurt?”

“No!”
“What?”
“Please–”
“I can make you spurt any time I want to. There’s nothing you can do, right?”
“Yes, Mam.”
“Good. Now tell me how many times you’ve masturbated thinking about me.”
“I don’t know, every day maybe.”
“I hired you about four weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She licks his ear and whispers, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t. It’s what a healthy young man is supposed do to. That’s why we’re here. What are girls for if not to masturbate to? In fact, I am – so flattered. Now tell me – and be truthful or this all ends – what you imagine when you masturbate. Where are you? What are you doing?” She slides her other hand over the tip of his cock, slippery with come. “How many times?”

“Yesterday. In the truck.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“In my driveway?”
“Yes, when I knew you weren’t looking.”
“What was I doing?”
“You were on your hands and knees.”
“You were watching me?”
“Yes.”
“On my hands and knees doing what?”
“Planting gardenias.”

He rises to his toes as she presses into his anus. More of the white, slippery syrup runs from his cock. “You’re so naughty,” she says.
“You’re going to—”
“What were you imagining?”
“Have sex with you.”
“Having– You mean fucking. You wanted to fuck me.”
“Yes,” he groans.
“You’re certainly not a boy anymore.” She squeezes the tip of his cock between her thumb and forefinger. “You want to get busy don’t you.” She licks under his chin. “Don’t ever say ‘have sex’ again. You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you. You wanted to fuck me from behind.”

“Yes.”
“Say it!”
“I wanted to fuck you.”
“How?”
“From behind. I wanted to fucking plant you.”
“Yes, that’s what I want to hear.”
“I imagined holding your hips – fucking holding your hips; hearing you grunt like a girl as I fucking dicked you from behind.”
“Did I come?”
“Yes.”

“Did I submit?”
He hesitates. “Yes.” Then he groans as she fingers his insides, forcing him to flow with something like a slow-motion orgasm.
“Do you always imagine fucking me until I squeal for mercy?”
“Yes. Oh fuck. I’m going to come –”
“No you’re not.”
“I –“
“What was that? Did you just squeal like a girl? Go ahead. Breathe. Good. Keep telling me what I am.”

“I want to fill your cunt every time I see you.”
“Really?”
“I want to bend you over. I want to yank your hair. I want to shove my dick so hard it comes out of your mouth. I want to tear off your shirt. I your tits to drag in the dirt as I fuck you from behind. Then I want you to beg me to fuck you again. I want you to beg on your hands and knees. I want you to arch like a whore. I want to fuck you until there’s more come in your pussy than in my balls. I want come to be dripping out of your mouth and tits.”

“I want you to,” she breathes.
“There’s just something fucking about you.”
“What is it?”
“You’re just –”
“What?”
“You’re just such a bitch.”
“The truth!”
“You’re a bitch.”
“Say it.”
“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“And?” She snarls.
“And it makes you want to punish me. It makes me want to fuck you like a dog. It makes me want to shove my dick up your pussy until your toes curl.”
“To show me my place – ”
“A fucking woman –”
“And you’re the man. My place is to get on my knees and suck your cock when I get mouthy. My place is just to bend over and show my pussy when I get bitchy.”
“I want to teach you how to speak cock.”
“Until I can’t fucking talk.”
“Until you can’t fucking move.”

“Cause that’s a woman’s place.” She slides, tugs the skin of his cock back. He groans. “I’ll tell you little secret about women: we love men. We love how they smell. We love the sound of their voices. We like how they growl. We love their lust. We love how they move, how they watch us, and how they want to fuck us. We love the men who aren’t afraid to be men. They complete us. They make us feel like women. Did you know that?”

“I’m going to come –“

“I know. I’m forcing you. My finger? Feel it? The one up your ass? I can feel the come rising out of your balls and filling your cock. But listen, I’ll tell you another secret and this one is important. The trick to making a woman want you until she waters her thighs; until she turns, lifts her tail and offers her pussy like a bitch who knows her place, is to make her think the choice is hers. Get it? If you want to enslave a woman, set her free. It’s kind of a paradox. Some men never get it. I’m giving you a head start. If you never want a woman to say no, make her think she could.

“I’m coming – “
“And you know what?” She licks his ear. “Find the right woman and she’ll never say no.”
“I’m coming.“
She squeezes his cock, pushes the tip of her finger against his prostate and points his contracting cock at the Garden Ranunculus. He cries out and arches with the first spurt.
“Oh,” she says, “there you go. You’re gushing, so young and spurts so powerful. It pours out of you. That’s it. Yes. There are girls who need to be taught their place now that they’re grown up. It’s time. You’re going to fill up their tight little wombs from behind. You’re made for it.” She groans. His finger rises between her legs, lifts her miniskirt, and slides upward and inside her. He almost triggers her orgasm. His own spurting doesn’t stop until the red flowers drip – leaves, stems and her hand. His eyes open. He gazes at her.

“Turn around,” he says. “And get on your knees.”
“What if I don’t want to.”
“Then I leave and don’t come back.” His lips twitch with a nervous smile. “Bitch.”
“What if I don’t care?”
He turns, facing her, and yanks her hair at the back of the neck. He kisses her hard. “What if I don’t care?”
She pushes his finger out. She meets his gaze as she turns, squats, kneels, knees wide and in the dirt. She looks back at him. He says, “Lift your mini-skirt. Bend forward. Use your hands to spread your pussy.”
She does.
“Don’t look at me until I’m done.”

She turns and grunts. His slick, arched and glistening cock easily slides into her, deeply, filling her.

☼ William Crimson September 2 2011

Categories: Consensual, Dominance & Submission, Erotica, Femdom, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Masturbation, RedBud, ReluctanceTags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

15 Comments

  1. ximenawrites

    That is the most beautiful photo of a rose I’ve ever seen…

    The story was…breathtaking. I don’t quite know how else to describe – I was literally holding my breath throughout their whole exchange.

    It’s a sweet irony for a woman to have to tell a man exactly how to take her ‘by force’. With a cherry boy like you described, what a thrill!

    • The first picture of the woman in your story “Spank” has that effect on me. Wow. Just doesn’t get more feminine than that.

      I’ve always liked the idea of the woman telling the man what to do, educating him, freeing him in a way. Sort of my version of femdom with a twist. She’s teaching him how to dominate her.

  2. Will,
    very nice, a young man’s dream.
    Every boy should be mentored by an experienced woman, it would avoid so much pain.
    I love waking to a tale like this, it reminds me of dreams I once had.
    Paul.

    • I’ve always heard that the French had the tradition of older women squirreling away younger men for an afternoon’s education. Don’t know how much of this is gossip or true. If it’s a myth, I’m sure the French would be pleased to perpetuate it.

  3. vanillamom

    jezuz.

    thank GAWD i can have an O tonight…

    that was….electric. enthralling. more than enticing…i’ve been away from your blog for more than two weeks (missing almost everyones posts coz of real life busyness) …and this was a HELLA post to cum back to…

    phew….

    nilla
    who now has VERRAH important “work” to do…..

  4. vanillamom

    HI Will (said in best sexah voice)

    now i’m all hawt and bothered and it’s all YOUR fault….what a good bad Man you are….

    nilla
    *grinning*

    “He lay smiling, looking up at the stars and wondering again exactly what it was he had said to her,when he had taken her empty glass at the party, as her juices ran from his spent cock to pool in the grass beneath his ass.” My first attempt at one sentence sex…
    n

    • :-) This sex in ‘one sentence’ is harder than it looks. It’s hard deciding what information to keep and what to leave. The temptation is to try to include it all. I usually start with that, pare it down or reorganize if I have to.

      “A smile, an empty glass, and her juices running from his spent cock were all that remained as he lay wondering at what he had said. ” What’ya think?

  5. vanillamom

    Yes, yes, exactly!

    Hard to edit…what to tell, what to leave out…and you nailed it (pun intended)…!!

    A brand new art form to experiment with!

    *smiling*

    nilla
    ps thanks for the education…i love learning new things and it is deeply appreciated!

  6. vanillamom

    huh.

    i was *just* thinking about you, Mr. Redbud….*smiling*…and there you pop onto my email.

    nice.

    Happy evening, my friend…

    nilla

  7. vanillamom

    i squeezed one out, set up the second one, and i’m beat too…time for bed…*grin*

    nilla

    people will start talking if we keep going to bed together. At the same time. guffaw.. sheesh.

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