Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... can't say no. She kisses me so tenderly, and it's all I can do not to cry.

I've been afraid that 'this is it' for about a month. I've been with my new tribe for about three. That's crucial backstory, because, well, this is the breakdown.

"Is this it?" I ask for the first time.

She looks at me with those piercing eyes -- some bright metal, on the whiter side of gray -- and there's so much in them that I can't pull it apart and name each piece.

"Never," she says, and I suppose, if I believe that, that I'll never know if"yes" would've been better or worse. "It is time though -- to talk, for real."

"Jack, I have to--"

"You have been," she says, interrupting me, because she already knows what whiny, wheedling bullshit I was about to peddle. "It's time to try something different. Now, we can sit down and have a conversation over coffee or tea, like mature adults, or we can do it when my dick is in your ass. Your choice."

Her embrace is loose and casual, but it might as well be the iron bars of a cage. There was some poet who said something like that. I don't think she was talking about love, but she could've been.

"I love you," I tell her.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I love you, too."

"Will you be gentle? Loving? Please?"

Her silvery brow furrows in confusion. It's the only victory I could win. It'll have to do. I grasp the hem of my shirt and start to pull it up over my otherwise naked chest. When it's off, she understands. We kiss ...

... again, and it's her answer to my questions: yes. We go to my bedroom. I take off the rest of my clothes. She gets the Good Girl, not the Power Girl, from my sex drawer.

I'm the little fork, and she's the big one. Her ten-inch cock slides into me like it's coming home. Ironically, I feel like a virgin. Her hands stroke my whole body; I go a little bit fetal. She kisses my neck and ear. She's too gentle and too loving. I can't handle it. I start to cry.

"You're making love to me," I blubber.

"I always was," she answers. "I love you, Corin."

It's the "love" beyond "like." When you know, you know. I didn't want to know.

What Jack knows is that I don't want her to stop. I want her to make love to me while I cry, and cry, and wordlessly apologize to my best friend in the world for what a mess I've made of everything. Eventually, her love -- the unstoppable force and immovable object, both -- overwhelms all of my remorse and self-pity. She massages my titties just the way I like it, and makes me cum from my ass. My seed dribbles out submissively onto the bed, at least compared to the usual fireworks. My cock didn't even get fully hard.

Jack doesn't cum. She's asserting a special kind of dominance -- the kind that's about self-control as much as it is about controlling one's bitch. She said we were going to talk, and she's going to prove to me that there's no avoiding it. Even with my submissive little asshole massaging her throbbing girth, she won't be distracted or ...