When my boyfriend and I started dating, he knew exactly what he was getting into. I was completely honest with him about my past and my tendency to give in to desire, which sometimes led to spontaneous hookups. He said he was fine with it—as long as it stayed in a “don’t ask, don’t tell” zone. It worked out well, especially since we weren’t living together, which gave me the freedom to have my fun without him being directly involved. Every now and then, though, I’d purposely let a small detail slip, just enough to hint that I’d been up to something. Sometimes I would do it on purpose only because it led to much harder and better sex the next time. I figured that it was a combination of anger and the need to show me that he is better.

Since we moved in together, sneaking in some side dick without it affecting him has gotten trickier. Even when I meet someone for some action at their place, I still end up coming home late, or carrying some kind of “evidence” with me. Naturally, that’s led him to start asking questions now and then, and I don’t like lying to him, so I tell the truth. I actually enjoy seeing his jealousy surface, especially when he channels it into how he handles me afterward. That tension has even found its way into our sex life. Now, I talk about my experiences while he’s touching me, and he’s clearly started to get off on it too.

On Monday, I went out for drinks with some coworkers and ended up back at one of their places for a little after-hours fun. I lost track of time and didn’t get home until nearly 11 P.M. When I walked in, my boyfriend was in his office playing video games, so I leaned in to give him a quick kiss and told him I was going to hop in the shower. By now, I’m pretty sure he’s picked up on the pattern. When I shower the moment I get home, it usually means I’ve been up to something.

As I started to walk away, he grabbed my hand and asked, “Why do you need to shower?”

I turned to him and asked, “Do you want me not to?”

He rose, pulled me close, and kissed me deeply as his hand slid slowly up beneath my dress. Pulling my panties to the side, his fingers slid into my pussy. There was no hiding it now. I definitely still had cum leaking out of me. And while he started to finger me, I felt his cock get rock hard.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, eyes locked on mine.

I smiled and teased, “Why don’t you taste and see for yourself?”

He paused, locking eyes with me, and I held my gaze without hesitation. I circled around him and settled into his chair. Spreading my legs, I looked at him and said, “Come here. Just taste.”

He stepped closer and dropped to his knees in front of me. He stared at my obviously used pussy. I reached for his head and gently guided him down to it until I felt his tongue licking up what was left. He was still a little hesitant, but I kept encouraging him, letting him know it was okay to enjoy it. And seeing that mess all over his lips and chin drove me crazy. I needed him to fuck me. His pants came off and he took me, in his chair. It left quite a mess.

We haven’t talked about it since Monday night, but the incredible, intense sex we’ve shared the past couple of days tells me it’s definitely still on his mind too.

I’m really excited at the thought of him gradually embracing the idea of serving me, as a cuck.