Friday Night: Her Blowjob Confession

The black dress clings to my curves, stockings hugging my legs, and heels clicking against the tile. I’m perched on the edge of this wooden chair, the door just inches away. The vase with its wilting flowers sits to the side, a silent witness. My mind races, thoughts of his cock filling my mouth, the taste, the power. I wonder, will he be upset? Will he understand the thrill of my submission, the rush of being a slut for someone else? The question hangs in the air, a challenge, a plea. I’m ready, but am I allowed?

What If He Says No?

The doorknob is cold under my fingers, a stark contrast to the heat pooling between my legs. I imagine the scene, his cock in my mouth, his eyes on me, judging, wanting. The thought of his disapproval sends a shiver down my spine. But isn’t that the point? The risk, the danger, the thrill of the unknown. I’m his little wife, his property, his to command. But tonight, I’m the one in control, the one asking the question. Will he let me? Will he watch as I suck another man’s dick, as I become his whore, his slut, his everything? The room is quiet, the only sound my ragged breathing. I can almost hear his voice, deep and commanding, telling me what to do. But tonight, I’m the one with the power. I’m the one who decides, who dares, who asks. And the question lingers, a promise, a threat. If I suck his dick, will you be upset? Will you watch, or will you turn away? The choice is yours, my love. The choice is always yours. I stand, the chair scraping against the tile, a harsh sound in the silence. I smooth my dress, adjust my stockings, and turn to the door. The doorknob is within reach, the world beyond a mystery. But I know what I want, what I need. And I’m ready to take it, ready to ask, ready to be his little wife, his slut, his everything. The question is out there, hanging in the air, a challenge, a dare. And I’m ready for the answer, whatever it may be.