Saturdays with the Bodybuilder
Getting to know each other
Each Saturday visit from the Bodybuilder felt like opening a new
chapter of a book that was being written in real-time. There was comfort in someone
familiar, the way each encounter built on the last, the trust deepening, the
curiosity growing.
Visit one: CNC debt collector
The first time was rough around the edges: trying out some CNC role play we agreed. After our chat
downstairs, we headed to the bedroom and the Bodybuilder came in fully committed to the
role: a debt collector looking for my husband, and I was the collateral he’d
take in payment.
I had wanted to play along, to speak, to tease but as soon
as the scene began, my words disappeared.
But the Bodybuilder didn’t miss a beat. He read the moment, adjusted
effortlessly, and took the lead without needing me to say a single thing. He
pushed me against the wall, strong and sure, his voice filling the space while
mine stayed silent. I was grateful and relieved that he carried the
scene. There was no pressure, no shame. Just enjoyment.
He grabbed my throat and guided me down to my knees. When he
pulled out his cock and pressed it to my lips, the scene dissolved. The
roleplay fell away as there was no pretending – I wanted his cock.
I licked, sucked, deepthroated all messy and eager, driven
entirely by instinct. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.
I passed him my phone, and he recorded a short video of me slowly
enjoying every part of his cock. Something for Mr. A reminder that even when
I’m unsure, I show up. I try.
We also explored more of the Bodybuilder's love of anal play. Not on
me, but on himself. I kissed his arse, touched him, licked him, rimmed him. As
my tongue worked him from behind and I reached around to stroke his thick, hard
cock, something new ignited inside me.
A fantasy bloomed, vivid and unexpected: another man on his
knees, sucking the Bodybuilder's cock while I licked and rimmed him from behind. The
image was filthy and perfect. The Bodybuilder, ever the kink king, loved hearing about
it even if he made it clear it wasn’t one he’d entertain. Still, it’s tucked
away living on my list, waiting, wanting.
Visit Two: stepmum/son kink
The second time we met, we talked more. Real talk. I
confessed how deeply insecure I was about oral sex - not giving, but receiving.
I had somehow convinced myself that the Bodybuilder didn’t like going down on women.
Something about a comment he’d made, plus his picky eating habits. The voices
in my head turned it into gospel: he won’t enjoy it, he’ll judge me, he’ll
leave.
The thought alone sent me into panic. I asked to shelve the
topic. He didn’t push, just nodded. And in that one moment, he earned even more
of my trust.
The Bodybuilder has his own kinks, too. A love for taboo
roleplay, especially the stepmum/son dynamic. And me? I get off on giving
someone what they want. He whimpered when I told him what a good boy he was,
that he was pleasing mummy. Those little sounds from him all soft and needy
turned me on more than anything.
That day, he started to kiss his way down my body. I froze.
Legs clamped tight. Hands shielding my pussy. He didn’t force anything, just
kissed and nudged with his nose. His strong hands deciding what would happen.
When his tongue finally made contact with my clit, I nearly shattered. Panic
and pleasure collided violently in my chest. I didn’t cum - I couldn’t - but I’d
let him in.
I let him see me, taste me, feel me.
And when it was my turn to ride him, I came so deeply I lost track of
everything but the sensation. The way he held me after, praised me, made me
feel... enough. It mattered.
Visit Three: pushing his face into my pussy
Third time around, we were emboldened. The Bodybuilder told me about
a new fantasy - him sitting in front of me, one hand over his mouth, the other wanking
him. I didn’t wait long to make it real. Reaching around him even with my long arms
wasn’t easy, but he loved it!
And when it was my turn to be pleasured again, I was braver. I held his head, I grinded on his face. I pushed him deeper into me and he moaned like he needed it. I didn’t cum - the voices still too loud - but I almost did.
The sex after was out of this world. I told him to cum on my
boobs and he didn’t hesitate ripping the condom off and jumping up above me
with the agility of a man half his size to paint my chest in warm, sticky cum.
We talked a bit but he had to leave. This time I really didn’t
want him to.
Aftercare
Time with the Bodybuilder is more than sex. It's therapy. I’m not just learning his
body and likes I’m uncovering my boundaries and challenges. We’re not dom/sub. We play. We explore.
But that intensity needs care.
Aftercare. We haven’t formalised it, but I know he sees the
shifts in me. He notices. He responds. And I’m sure we’ll talk about that more
next time. His departure was tough on the 3rd visit because I needed to close off what we had
just done and I didn’t have the words or tools to do that, but I know we’ll
figure that out.
He’s not just a kink partner. He's a safe space.
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