RoseAnn Discovers Dominance

Wgaius

Chapter 6

I realized that Craig might ask me to stay the night, but I thought that might be a little much. Whatever we'd just done, it was still a first date. Staying over would probably mean morning sex, and perhaps more puzzling behavior from him. And I was far from ready for any of that.

But he asked, almost as a formality, and when I declined, he didn't argue. We watched the TV news, including clips from the Cubs game, while we ate the cold remains of our supper. Afterwards, he drove me back to my apartment. I kissed him before I got out. He still smelled faintly of my juices.

"Can we see each other again?" he asked hopefully.

I suspected from his tone that he was expecting an ambiguous reply, like 'I'll call you', or 'maybe sometime', that would mean 'never'. I wasn't certain that I wanted to date him again, but the poor man had gone so long without sex, and he'd tried so hard to please me, I couldn't disappoint him now. I had to leave him some hope. And that had been a spectacular orgasm, no doubt about it.

I said the boldest thing that came to mind, "If I don't hear from you soon, you'll force me to kidnap you." I gave him my biggest smile. At least he deserved to hold hope in his heart for a little while, whatever I decided.

I watched him drive away and climbed the steps to the little apartment. Candy was watching TV. She clicked it off when I came in.

"Okay, Rosie, I want a full report, right now."

I went to the refrigerator and took out an Old Milwaukee before flopping down on the couch. "I went on a date," I said. "We went to a game and watched the Cubs lose. Then we had dinner." I felt the blush in my cheeks and sipped my beer to disguise it.

"You slut! You gave it up, didn't you? Surely you're not going to try to fool your oldest friend?"

I smiled, which gave her the answer she wanted.

"Well?" she prompted. "Did he fuck you? Is his thingy as big as Mike's?"

"He went down on me," I mumbled into the beer can.

"What? Speak up!"

I lowered my beer and looked her in the eye. "He went down on me and gave me the best come I've had since before I dated Mike."

"Now that sounds interesting. You always said you wished you'd married Donald what's-his-name instead. He went down on you, didn't he? But I guess you reciprocated afterward, right?"

I shook my head. "He didn't want me to."

"Really? Too bad for him. When Mike got drunk, he'd brag that you were his favorite cocksucker. He used to make my Dad furious, the way he talked about you. Dad would stomp out of the bar and come home threatening to shoot Mike someday. He could have killed Mike and cheerfully gone to prison for it."

I knew all this. It was old and worn history, and it no longer upset me. I continued, "I gave him a slow hand job, and I had to threaten him before he'd let me do that. I said I'd never date him again if he didn't let me make him come."

"That's weird. You don't suppose he's...?"

"Queer? No, no, no. He's definitely not queer. I could tell he was into me from the first day in his office. And this afternoon, he got very excited once we got going. We didn't even finish supper. But he treated me like I was a goddess and he was my worshiper. He behaved like I did him a great favor by letting him go down on me."

My misgivings about Craig seemed to evaporate with every word I spoke.

"What next?"

"I'll definitely date him again. I don't think I'll have to wait long."

"Well, for what my advice is worth, if he wants to go down on you again, let him. Forget Donald. Forget Mike. Craig is a new guy, and you shouldn't compare him with either of them. But if you decide to drop him, let me be the first to know. I want to find a man who'll lick my pussy and not make a federal case out of it."

When I woke next morning, Candy had already left for her breakfast shift. Instead of leaping from bed and making coffee, I lazed under the covers, reliving yesterday's experience. I was sure that Craig would ask me out again, and I was equally sure he'd want to go down on me again. What should I do about it?

Admittedly, it was thrilling when he did it, but there was that nagging sense that there was something not right, that there was something about Craig that was perverse and somehow not manly.

Unnatural. That was the word. I'd spent four years on my knees for Mike, and now a new man wanted to be on his knees for me. The whole order of Nature was reversed. And what was the attraction, anyway?

I got out of bed and found my hand mirror on the dresser. Lying back on the sheets, I held it above my crotch. With the fingers of my other hand, I drew the thick lips apart. Folds of flesh peeked out between them. My clitoris poked boldly from its hood like a little fingertip. The vagina was a bottomless hole with slippery sides, like a trap designed to attract and catch insects or small animals. The whole thing was surrounded by a black jungle of wiry hair, where all manner of creatures might lurk. And yet Craig had gazed on this sight as though it were an appearance of the Virgin Mary.

I pushed a finger into my vagina and brought it to my nose. It was a familiar and strange smell, hardly pleasant, but not foul either. But I couldn't imagine why a man would want to put his mouth there. What possible satisfaction could he get?

Touching my pussy had ignited something I hadn't intended. I reached again and touched my clitoris. Into my mind, unbidden, came the brush of Craig's sideburns against my thighs and his hot breath in my pubic hair. His tongue explored, feeling far more pleasant than my finger. I threw my thighs apart and stroked wildly, imagining his hoarse breathing and wild excitement. Abruptly, pulsations welled up from the pit of my belly. I moaned aloud and arched my back. My hips lifted from the mattress and writhed in the air until the contractions had expended themselves.

Whew! I hadn't expected that. I must have gone off within twenty or thirty seconds, a speed record for me.

The doorbell startled me with its overly loud chime. Who the hell, at this time of day? I got up on shaky legs and fumbled for my bathrobe. "Wait a minute, I'll be right there."

It was a young man with a large package wrapped in paper embossed with, 'Grafton Florist'. I found a dollar tip and gave it to him.

It was a vase filled with fresh flowers. A tiny envelope was stuck among them. The note inside read, 'To RoseAnn, who made me feel like a man again. Love, Craig.' I set the flowers in the middle of the dining table.

I made him feel like a man again? What did he mean by that?

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