“I’d make you fuck someone for a hot pair of shoes or a slutty dress,” he said.
My stomach clenched, I felt heat between my legs, the heady scent of my own arousal wafted up to me as I sat at my computer, miles away from him. I had just got done telling him that while I certainly enjoyed the thought of the gifts & travel a certain new lover had promised me, I was not sure it was worth the lousy vanilla lay that the gentleman in question was.
I’ve done that before, or tried. Tried to stay with a man totally unsuited to my personal sexual preferences because a) it made him happy, and b) he gave me things. A beautiful bracelet, encrusted with opals after two dates. A trip to a lingerie store where he dropped $300 on pretty things, and not just to wear for him, but to take home and surprise my SO. A plane ticket to Miami where he was attending a conference. The promise of a trip to Spain in the spring. Those last two (the two that would have made it [maybe] worthwhile) never came to pass. I couldn’t whore myself out that thoroughly, and he ended up wanting more than I could give.
I’d whore myself out for W. I did it last night. Though it started out to be about me, about me wanting an occasional vanilla lover, in the end I fucked him for W. I sat across from this intellectually stimulating man and realized I could easily finish the night without having sex with him. Oh, the vibe was there, the tease and the chemistry on one level…but I wanted W, with his hand on my throat, his fingers digging into my cunt, his chains around my wrists and ankles, and I knew this man wouldn’t do those things to me. Knew that I didn’t want this man to do those things to me. I liked him for other things, and, in another world, those things would have been fine; he would have been an interesting dinner date or maybe occasional sex partner, but certainly that evening would have ended with me promising another date but not having sex.
But I don’t live in that world anymore, I live in W’s world, and in W’s world I sat across from that man and thought about what W wanted: that man’s cock in my hole. So I followed him back to his hotel and I fucked him.
“I can keep your vanilla dates completely separate and devoid of any influence on my part,” he said. Yeah, maybe he can. But I can’t. And I don’t want to. I want to live in W’s world. And in W’s world I will fuck a man simply because he says to.