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But throughout the whole of the dinner I couldn't stop thinking forward to what it was I knew would be coming once we got back home, all of which meant that I could feel the wetness of my pussy dripping down my thighs as I stood up to walk out of the fancy French restaurant we had dined in. We got in the house and he immediately guided me into the front room of our humble dwelling.

We drove home in silence that helped set a mightily erotic mood. We were in the living quarters of our property- the scene of whatever was about to happen next.

When nearing his end, he'd either beckon me over so that he could drain his balls in my greedy mouth, or he'd walk to me and stroke his cock inside the knickers that he'd ask me to open for him. Few outside of our bedroom would possibly know how he dominated inside of it, save for a handful of ex lovers, and fewer still would ever realise how much I loved it. I swear that the only thing he loved more than me was great food, and therefore there was no, at least so far, fucking me. When I finished by the mirror, I went to put on my dress and this was his cue to get clothed also- and it never ceased to amaze me how he still finished getting dressed at the same time as I had, some half an hour or so after I started.

Again, the black lace of them keeping me turned on through their stickiness when in the presence of ignorant others. I walked towards the bedroom door before being forced to stop to turn around and face him, wondering why he was still standing there, and still so silent.'Ready'? My mind raced through the events of the day in an attempt to answer my growing questions.

On other occasions, I'd catch him in the mirror stroking his cock as he studied me- with such an absence of embarrassment that it would actually make me blush. He just sat, silently, observing me- like a hunter studying it's prey.

Like a way he had often nailed me to the wall before.

He took his left hand from my neck and I felt it move roughly down my body, between my legs, back up my thighs and grab at the front of my recently placed underwear. He often had whims of dominance that was both surprising and not surprising, different yet the same.

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I dressed in front of him just like I had so often before, and definitely more so since he told me how much he had loved watching my performance.

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