An old high school friend of mine had been flirting with me back and forth on a social networking site for about a month. He was a charming little devil I must admit. Bobby was dark haired, smoldering brown eyes, a sexy slip of facial hair, just enough to tickle a woman.
Bobby called me up one day, and invited me out for his birthday. Being a wise woman, or at least I like to think I am, I knew he wanted a special gift from me.
“Rosie, babe, it’s my birthday, would you like to go do something with an old friend?” Bobby quieried, sounding a little unsure of himself actually.
“Well, Bitch, I do love coffee. Let’s go get some coffee. Oh, and by the way, I like my coffee with loads of cream, Papi, “ I chided him.
“Give me twenty minutes, I have to renew my damn plates, and take care of some other business. See you soon.” Bobby ended the conversation with a wanton anticipation in his voice.
Flirting around with Bobby the past couple of weeks had been good for my ego, his birthday, reminded me that I was going to be forty this year. I was so used to be the young, vibrant woman. These days it seemed as if I was lucky to get out much at all anymore. I filled my days with educating my son, writing, and looking after my baby mama.
I so longed for those early domming days of mine, but alas, life does happen to us all. I always remained aggressive however, domming men, as they came along, just didn’t make it my life. I don’t suppose anyone really does, unless they are professional dommes. I have had the opportunity to domme a few of them actually. Poor things, Pro Dommes are kind o like therapists, they need a good Domme to submit to. You simply can not carry all of that pent up anger, humiliation, stress, torture and burden that you take on during a power exchange. You need an outlet to let it flow to. It is the natural order of things. Dare I say in every relationship, the healthy ones, anyway, there is an equal amount of domination and submission between the partners.
Bobby showed up in his shiny indigo pick up. I took note of the way is eyes followed my ample bottom as I sauntered to his truck.
I made myself comfortable in his oversized cab, and just looked into his eyes. My mother always called eyes like his bedroom eyes, the kind of eyes that just seem to make you want to follow him straight to the bedroom and do what comes naturally, or in my case, unnaturally.
“ Light me a cigarette. Bitch, “ I said, breaking the silence.
“ Why, do I have to be a bitch? “ he asked, handing me the cigarette.
“ All men are my bitches, Bobby. It’s just a fact of life.” I said smugly.
“ So, where do you want to go, My Queen of Corona?” he asked, smiling oh so sexy and inviting.
“ Drive, Bitch,” I ordered, trying to be as serious as I could possibly be at the moment.
Bobby drove for a while , stopping at a gas station and getting us a cup of coffee. We talked of many things. He was doing good for himself, owned his own business, was a hairdresser actually. He was getting ready to go to North Carolina to visit his Mother. I respect men who honor their mommas. To me there is nothing sexier. Some women call Momma’s boys vulgar names , never considering the facts. A “ Mommy” is responsible for molding your life. “ Mommy” is a beautiful term of endearment. “Mommy” comforts you, and makes the pain go away. For most men their mother I their first love, and their best girl. This is nothing to be ashamed of , if people would open their minds it could actually be embraced.
Bobby drove onto a side road, it was one of those shanty type roads. Almost as if it were a road straight from the hills of Kentucky. I leaned over and unbuckled his pants. Unzipping his jeans, I used my mouth to pull his cock out of his underwear. I stroked it a bit with my hand. He was a nice sized man, fairly thick. I could tell that he had freshly bathed, he smelled wonderful. I was going to tae his orgasm. I needed to feel that power once again. He was so submissive to me right now. He didn’t want to be, but he couldn’t help it , Bobby was my Bitch. As he drove, I cupped his testicles, digging my nails in, placing my mouth on the head of his cock, I began to suck, deep, forcefully. To my amazement, in thirty seconds Bobby had an orgasm. It was massive, I swallowed it all, thick, hot and creamy, shooting straight down my throat.
He looked at me in childlike wonder,
“ What did you do to me? I have never had that before.”
“ I took your orgasm, Bobby.’ I answered.
Driving me back home he explained to me why men love women like me. He said it was my self confidence, that men need that from a woman, and that nothing turns a man on more than a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.
Dropping me off at home I wished him a proper Happy Birthday, and thanked him for putting the cream in my coffee.