Browsinghere241 - Easygirl

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Perfect

the first time

Where we live in the country, there are coffee stands on nearly every corner. In some counties, there are even coffee stands that offer a little something extra with your coffee. Im not sure why they’re called bikini baristas. Ive never seen a girl in a bikini. In fact, I’ve only ever seen them wear lingerie, electrical tape with a thong, or stripper outfits to be honest.

Keeping this in mind, I suggested to my husband during a particularly fun conversation that perhaps he should go down there, order a coffee, flirt a bit, and see how things go. Maybe after regular visits, he’d find a girl he hit it off with.

It was playful conversation one night during foreplay. Afterwards, I wanted to take a bit of the pressure off of him. After all, this was my fantasy, not his… I told him it wouldn’t matter if it actually happened. Making up a story to tell me about picking up one of the baristas and bringing her home to our bed to fuck her, would do just as well.

…

A few days passed and then I got a text, “Can’t wait to tell you all about the barista tonight while I fuck you.” My knees weakened a bit as I reread the message over and over. Unconsciously, I bit my lip and reached down to touch the wetness that was forming between my legs.

I kinda hoped that he would wait awhile before making up the barista story, cause I wanted it to feel believable. Regardless, this was the first step in our cuckquean adventure and I was just excited he was playing along.

When he appeared at the front door that night, he was already wearing a sly smile. He opened the door and found me standing in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. Brushing the hair off my shoulders, he leaned in and kissed my neck. “When you finish up here, meet me in the room.”

…

“Come here, I want to show you something,” he demanded. I crawled across the bed to where he was seated. He motioned for me to sit in front of him and lay back against the heat of his chest. Whatever it was we were about to look at, he wanted me front row, but with access to my body.

I leaned back against him as he scrolled through an Instagram page full of what I could now tell was bikini baristas. “Ooooh, which one did you pick to tell me about?” I asked.

The squares on the screen each featured a different girl in sexy clothes. Most were playing to the camera with their puckered lips and perky tits. “Which one would you want me to fuck?” he growled in my ear.

“Mmmm,” his breath against my neck made me weak. I scrolled through and looked at all of our options. Each one was pretty in her own rite. They were all around 10-15 years younger than me, and none looked like they’d had children. Everything about them was perfect and perky.

I found a petite brunette with a round ass and big natural tits. She also was dressed in the prettiest black lace lingerie, with a garter belt and thigh highs to match. I knew he’d like her. “I want you to bring her home, baby,” I said as I clicked the square, enlarging the original picture.

She was prettier than me, not by much, but by enough that I felt a pang of insecurity as he grazed his thumb over the picture. “I was hoping you’d like that one,” he whispered against my neck. “I took your advice, baby girl. I stopped by that coffee stand on my way to work yesterday.” His fingers skimmed along my thighs. I uncrossed my legs to allow him more access.

“I ordered a drink, but they were out of what I wanted, so I asked the barista to recommend a drink for me.” He went on to tell me about their flirtacious banter. “When I signed the receipt, I wrote my number on the bottom.” His fingers now lightly grazed my parted lips through the fabric. I was already a dripping mess. I leaned into him as he swirled his finger around my clit, barely touching me.

“She texted me yesterday. Nothing risque… at first, but we got to talking and I told her about your dirty little fantasy. I casually mentioned I was having a hard time meeting girls in the area who would be down with the situation and she didn’t believe me. She said I shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding girls to fuck.”

I whimpered as he pulled my thong to the side, exposing me. “We’ll look at that,” he cooed, “I haven’t even gotten to the good part and you’re already a mess.” His fingers circled over my clit while, with his other hand, he reached up under my shirt for a handful of my tits.

Teasing me with his fingers, he tells me how casual conversation turned into flirting last night. He says she sent him pictures and exits the instagram app. He opens his messages and suddenly I’m confused.

Wait, did this actually happen or is this fantasy?

He scrolls quickly through conversation so I can’t read it. My brain tries playing catch up. So, wait, this actually happened? He went down there to pick up a girl? My stomach is in knots. I feel light-headed and try to come to terms with what is happening. I wanted this… Right? He opens one of the pictures she sent, its a sexy shot of her in lingerie. Fuck, I think. She’s gorgeous… I’m feeling wildly insecure. Maybe I can’t do this.

He flips through a few more photos of her in lingerie before he stops and pulls his fingers away from my clit. His fingers are slick. My pussy is wet with envy. “There’s no denying it now, baby… I knew this turned you on, but I’ve never seen you soak through the bedsheet like that, ” he says pointing to the puddle in our bed.

I’m embarrassed. So many thoughts are going through my head, everything is chaos, the room starts to spin. He swipes to show me the last picture.

I audibly gasp when it comes into focus. “Look at that,” he says, zooming in on the center of the photo. She’s seated on a bed with her legs splayed open. Her right hand is holding the phone while her left hand spreads her pussy open. It’s fucking beautiful and pink and perfect. “That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers into my ear. I whimper again and he slides his fingers inside me.

I lean back into him and close my eyes.

“I could hardly keep up at work last night. Between texting her all night and two trips I had to make to the bathroom, I was behind the whole time. I got so hard looking at her pictures and talking about her being apart of your fucked up little fantasy, I had to jerk off. But the conversation kept going beyond that and before I knew it, I had to jerk off again. That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know that I’ve ever been that turned on.” His words sting, but the ache between my legs intensifies. My hips buck upward, my body betraying me and begging him to continue as the pressure builds.

“You like that, huh, baby?”

I nod my head.

“No, I want to hear you say it.”

My voice cracks. I’m so close now. “You should go back tomorrow. I want you to fuck her. You deserve to fuck her, baby.” I’m right on the edge.

“Remember when I picked up coffee for us this morning?” he asks, “…I fucked her first.”

An intense orgasm washes through my body. His fingers slow to a steady pace as we ride through my clenching muscle spasms. My breath slows to a normal pace before either of us speaks.

“That was everything I hoped it would be, babe,” I said as I rested against him, “Thank you.”

Holding my chin, he turns my face up towards his, “Show me your thankful,” he says, “get on your knees.” I do as I’m told and slide off the bed and get down. He turns to grab something from the bed. I wait patiently at his feet.

It’s his phone. He opens a video and starts to watch. There’s a lot of heavy breathing and smacking sounds. Then I hear his voice coming from the video, “Oh my God. Your pussy is so tight. Fuck.”

“Open your mouth,” he demands, looking down at me. I do as I’m told and I’m immediately rewarded. I can taste her on his dick. I’m overcome with envy and lust. My tongue explores the length of him as I lick her pussy off of my husband.

Do you see her?

The mature woman you think is attractive, has her life together, is accomplished, and comes with the added bonus of purchase: she’s submissive. Jackpot, right? Well, yeah. But let’s unpack that a little.

Look at her.

She is, perhaps, married, or was. She may have children and no help at home, or survived the child rearing and is now looking to new stages in her life. She may have an ex whose sole purpose in life is to score points off her, she may have aging family to care for. Daily, she keeps several plates spinning at the top of tall reeds, and you better believe keeping those things spinning isn’t really an act of choice for her.  If she lets them fall, they shatter spectacularly, people look and gawk and judge her harshly for her failures.

Look at her.

She is in control at all times, because there are no choices. No alternatives for her, not until those delicious few hours when someone places a collar around her neck and leads her to sanctuary. Until someone ensures that it’s okay to leave the reeds, the plates will spin on, awaiting her return. She revels in the mindlessness of no expectation other than acquiescence, the quietude of simply existing.  That is her respite, her renewal. And if, during renewal, she might feel pleasure, so much the better. So much sweeter those achievements, those moments, those peaks.  She knows to value each one.

Look at her.

She is, perhaps, a professional of some sort. She might manage people, or create things. Could be she is a force to be reckoned with, meeting deadlines and keeping the ship in its lane.  Without question, she has been fighting her entire life for the same recognition you take for granted.  She manages her life quite handily, and largely prefers it that way, save for the moments that she would like to put all of it down, to step away.  She revels in not being the steward of lives and lifestyles, if only for a short time, entrusted only to the one person she can surrender herself and her stewardship.  She looked long and hard for that person, and if that one is you, take note.  

Look at her.

Careful, careful thought has gone into the placing down of those burdens.  She has weighed the imperatives that others place upon her against her instinct to succumb to the siren call of tranquility.  She has calculated, and considered, and decided.  There is a deliberateness to the action of transferring power.  The reward meets the risk, and she is equal to the task.  You are her partner in the exchange, and she has faith in your strength and trusteeship.

Look at her.

She has bent for you.  Knelt, bent, allowed herself to be arranged, raised pink and tender places for your inspection and attention and your tools and implements.  She has chosen the fluid exchange of energy, gathering strength from her suffering for you, taking your darkness into her, committing her flesh to the healing of both cell and spirit.  She allows, she chooses, she commits.  Her will unleashes your own and in turn your will keeps hers secure.

Look at her.

Struggle with the deviation from societal norms has left her vulnerable.  She has sought out a place to give away, if only for a short while, her body, her conscious mind, perhaps even a portion of her soul.  With the shedding of her clothing, that nakedness runs deeper than the flesh.  When she is wrapped in blankets and forehead kisses or later slipping into street clothing, she is quietly donning the protective garments of her every day.

Look at her.  Isn’t she fine?

When doms say:

Come here princess. *opens arms for a hug*

Let me carry that for you baby.

You’re Daddy’s baby and don’t forget it.

*lifts you up so you can reach something or takes it down for you*

Orders for you or cooks for you. (insists on not letting you do either)

Don’t move from this spot okay babygirl.

*has his arm around you or holding your hand in public so you’re close to him*

Are you going to be good for Daddy? *coos at you*

Bottom line is- doms can be hella cute for the right person and it’s not just in a dd/lg dynamic. Also! Some doms (that are not into dd/lg) like to be called Daddy too. A title doesn’t just fit one dynamic.❤️✨

I think that about sums it up lol no need to explain anything

This is an hypnosis file I picked up on a while back. Be aware, this is NOT for the mild person wanting to learn hypnosis.