A fantasy

One of the things about having a D/s relationship with someone who's fairly normal and well-adjusted in most ways is that sense of a secret, that there's something about the Dom and his slut that others just don't know.

I feel that often with Andre when I'm hanging out with him and his friends, the men genially flirting as they sip a drink, the women tossing their hair as they lean back against the bar, settling into their high-heeled shoes.

" If Fred only knew about us," I often think, knowing the whole crowd thinks Andre is the hot-blooded bachelor extraordinaire, the older guy who manages to turn up with a string of lively women, all younger than him, each more vibrant than the next (Yes, I am crowning myself at the top of that list.)

I know they've seen us grope one another, sensed the passion in our kisses, and are very certain we're having a great time getting it on--but I think only a few suspect there could be anything more than the heavy breathing of middle-aged passion--and those few would never utter a word.

And yet, as much as I rely on his straight friends not knowing, do not want them to know, one recurrent fantasy of my nights alone with my imagination and my hand is to see myself with Andre, naked, collared and cuffed, and ordered to service his friends.

Night after night, alone in my empty bed, I pleasure myself with the fantasy of Andre directing me to touch and suck Al's cock as his friend touches my breasts.

--And it's not any one guy--it's the general fantasy of servicing someone else--just about anyone--at my lover's direction, as an expression of how I enjoy pleasuring him, and by extension, would pleasure someone else at his direction.

This same fantasy goes into high gear as I imagine two on two scenes with couples he's been chatting with, Andre directing me as I kiss and fondle the husband while he touches the wife, the four of us in some slutty post-high school scene as enticing as it is silly.

Yes, the big kick here is the fantasy of what hould happen on Andre's order, and with Andre watching, as though everything I do with someone else is an expression of the passion and the sensuality I feel when I am with him.

Like a hungry slut, eager to be fucked, I imagined myself taken out, touched and used at his direction, all of it somehow humiliating and yet stimulating to him in a way that makes me more desirable than ever.

Reality check:
Would I ever want any of this in real life?
The swinging part--um, probably yes.
The servicing his friends--a pretty firm no.
But it is great masturbation fodder.