Captainstrangecollector - Strange Collections

A hall pass

I can’t remember now when I admitted to my then-girlfriend that I was interested in her cuckolding me.  The desire preceded the relationship, and it has stayed with me in the years since that relationship ended.

She knew, though, before she left for a college reunion the last fall we were together.  As I remember it now, I feel like she must have noticed a spark when she mentioned looking forward to seeing all of her old friends.  The college was a plane trip away from where we lived, and this reunion was her five-year, so most of her friends were still unattached and living interesting lives in the big city she had left.  She missed them; she would find a way to go up for the weekend and see everyone she could, staying in her friend’s empty apartment.

One of those friends, Luke (for our story, but his real name will never leave my mind), had not attended the school, but came to know that my girlfriend would be traveling to the city for the weekend.  I’m sure I had heard about Luke beforehand, but always in the context of some other guy friends of hers.  Maybe they were buddies from her post-college job or the bar they all went to.

One night, a couple of weeks before the trip, my girlfriend called over from the other room and told me to “make an angry face” while she pointed her phone in my direction.  The picture was for Luke, she said, who had teasingly suggested she bring along some lingerie for the reunion weekend.  As I recall, I didn’t have the faintest idea that their text conversation might have taken that turn, and I’m sure the blood ran from my face and just as sure where it went.

My girlfriend thought it was funny, and I convinced myself that it was just an improbable joke, almost certainly not having to do with my fantasy.  But I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass to explore it either.

That night I asked her in bed whether she might break away from the college group and get to see Luke and her buddies.  She touched me while she asked if that was something I wanted.  I touched her as I asked her to describe Luke to me.  He is extremely well-built, funny, just never single at the right time, one of the ones who got away.

Before I came, I was desperate to outline the breadth of my fantasy again, reminding her that she had every right to see whomever—and do whatever—she liked, at home or while on a trip, far away from everyone we knew.

---

She left for the reunion.  Luke had been called away on business for the weekend she was going, so our bedroom talk had softened.  The realization, though, that she would consider an affair, engaging me in the fantasy with a particular name—a particular person—had electrified our relationship and dominated my thoughts.

She went to the cocktail parties and the football game, sending back social media pictures of her group of friends in their team’s colors at each of the different events.  Sunday morning, she went out with her girlfriends to brunch.  Between pitchers of mimosas, she called me and put me on the phone with her old friends, who interviewed me.  Even after a couple of years of dating, I had never met them, so I got questions about my intentions with my girlfriend and plans for when we might fly to see this friend or that friend.

Eventually my girlfriend took the phone back and walked away from their table.  She asked me almost immediately, “Were you serious about the hall pass?  Luke is coming back a day early.”

I was stunned.  I managed to say yes and offer her encouragement without, I think, making myself sound desperate that she go through with it.  I also don’t remember ever using the phrase “hall pass.”  She had spent time with the thought, rationalizing it.

She called later that afternoon to say that she had made plans to see Luke and her other buddies, and that she had made Luke aware of the fact that she was staying at her friend’s empty apartment, all alone.

The next time I heard from her was the following morning.  She texted to let me know she made it to the airport, that she had had fun the night before and that she had a story for me when she got home.

---

I still don’t know if Luke was aware of my fantasy or not.  My girlfriend always found ways of skirting the point, keeping private some element of her interactions with him.

I do know that by the time he arrived at the apartment, after he had been out with her and their buddies to the bar, meeting her at the door where she greeted him in a sweatshirt and sheer panties, he had explained that he had a girlfriend.  As they kissed and she began to remove his clothes, pulling him to the couch, he explained that he would have to draw a line—somewhere—short of sex.

When my girlfriend told me my story, that Monday night, I am convinced that she told it in episodes.  Each one slightly more damning than the previous, in case I lost my permissive resolve.  I held up, so the details continued to grow more vivid.

She always denied having sex with him, but what began as making out on the couch eventually moved to the bedroom.  First with clothes, and then without them.  She touched me as she asked, “Are you happy that I touched him like this?  He was very happy.”  My girlfriend described Luke’s toned body, naked beside her, and the sweetness of his kisses.

They played with each other all night, not falling asleep until five in the morning.  Before he went to work, they shared a lingering kiss at the door.  He left his wallet and had to come back a half hour later.  She told me, “the last kiss was my favorite part of the whole trip.”

---

She seemed to feel different to my touch that night, although I’m sure in my mind I wanted her to.  I am guilty of looking at her email once to search for Luke’s name, finding a conversation they had about a “shower party” (her quotes) a few days after she came home.  She did love to make love in the shower.

My girlfriend would ask me occasionally what I wanted to do about the experience.  I imagined with her, for her, a weekend where my apartment would be empty so that Luke might come to our town, perhaps on business.  I could be gone whenever she liked, I said.

She wondered if I might want to participate, suspecting that I would want to enjoy Luke alongside her.  She never articulated that specifically, but I could tell she always wondered what else could possibly motivate such a fantasy.

Really, though, her night with Luke helped me to see it more clearly than ever.  I wanted only for her to feel in control, untethered from me and not especially concerned either.  I wanted her to have sex or not have it, with a man or with a woman, to tell her friends or Luke or not to tell them.  It didn’t matter to me what came of her decisions, only that she was making them.

I was happy to wait at home to find out my fate; to learn from the person in control just what had happened to her and to us and to me.  I begged to know.

Halloween House Party

Whew… What an eventful couple of weeks it has been! I am back from my vacation, and, as promised, I will update you all…

Ok, where to start…

I went to Hawaii with my family. Some of you even guessed the right island, and one person even guessed the right beach… Honestly, I was a little freaked out by that. I’m not ready to meet anybody off of Tumblr, particularly in front of my family, while we are on vacation. So, I didn’t answer anybody specifically as to my exact whereabouts. I’m sure you will understand. The island was great, the vacation was great, I had a glorious time. And for anybody wondering, no, I didn’t hook up with any random strangers… Sorry to disappoint you all there.

I also decided to make a change to my blog. Maybe not one you will notice immediately, but I decided to eliminate the “anonymous” option on my asks. I was getting a lot of disparaging anonymous comments, and some of them were pretty mean. Nothing kills the mood while you are on vacation than seeing somebody who obviously hasn’t read my whole blog fire off some mindless drivel about what a horrible person I am. So, the way I see it… Hate on me all you want, just don’t be a coward about it anonymously. If you want to insult me, then do it with your name behind it so I can respond. If you don’t have the courage to do that, you aren’t worth being in my inbox in the first place. Now, two things need to be said about this. First, I promise to respond to a person directly and privately before I post anything with names on it. I’m not here to embarrass anybody. And second… This may or may not be permanent. I am going to see how it goes for a couple weeks and see how I feel. If I don’t get anything interesting, I might turn on the anonymous ask feature again.

Ok… I’ll get off my little soapbox here, and get to the fun stuff that you all came for…

So, for those of you that remember, right before I left for vacation, I found myself in a bit of a pickle… I didn’t have a Halloween costume or anything planned, but my friend was having a Halloween party last night. Well, I got home yesterday at noon… So I had like 4 hours to put a costume together, and of course, my awesome Tumblr followers came through and sent me ideas the whole time I was in Hawaii. I got a lot of suggestions, some cute, some sexy, some funny, some gross…

I just thought I’d share a few:

Wear my lingerie and heels and be a Victoria’s Secret Model (of course). Put on a low cut dress with lots of T&A and be a celebrity, while giving my bf a bunch of cameras and making him be paparazzi. (Could be fun) Dress up in a toga and sandals, and have my bf wear a green shirt and stick fake croutons, tomatoes, celery and carrots to him and go as a couple. (Caesar-salad… Get it?) Go dressed as Batman, and make my boyfriend go as Robin. (To show who was the boss, of course)

I liked those. But the one I ended up doing was both super easy, and super sexy to pull off, and still had the added hint of the power play that goes on behind the scenes with my boyfriend and me. It was actually suggested by one of my favorite people on Tumblr… @toricooperauthor. If you haven’t checked out her blog, do it now. Seriously, this post will be here when you get back. Go follow her, she is amazing. Every time we talk, she has some awesome idea for me to try…

Back yet? Ok, cool…

So, while I was in Hawaii, two days before I left to come back, I texted my boyfriend, and told him I knew what I wanted to do for the Halloween party costumes, but that I needed him to go get a couple of things for both of us, because I wouldn’t really have time. I gave him a list: a visor for me, a pair of workout wristbands, a workout headband, and as plain or boring sweater vest for him that he could find. He asked me what he heck kind of costume I wanted to make, and I told him it would be a surprise…

Oh my goodness, that flight is long. It was something like 10 hours of travel time, including layovers, and I have a really hard time sleeping on planes, so I got next to no sleep, and by the time I got home, I had been up for almost 36 hours straight. Suck. So I was exhausted, but my bf is sweet, and picked me up at the airport and took me home. He told me that he got everything that I had asked for, but he still didn’t know what I was planning. I told him to trust me, and took a nap for 2 hours, just so I wasn’t completely exhausted for the party.

Quick side note here… Thank God that Halloween was on a Friday night this year. If it was a mid-week holiday, there was no way I was going to go out after that trip.

So, about 4pm, my bf wakes me up and says “Court, do you want to go to Karissa’s party or just sleep? Either is fine with me”. (By he way… same Karissa from my birthday story a while back). I assured him that I was good to go, and popped up, and told him to wait 15 min while I got dressed, and then we would go over to his place for his costume. I put a pair of tennis shoes, white socks, a pleated white skirt, a white tank top and a black sports bra, put my hair in a ponytail and put on the visor and wrist bands. Then I went down to my closet where I keep all my random crap (snowboard too) and got out a tennis racket and a couple of tennis balls. And wa-la! Tennis Pro Courtney! It was super easy, a little flirty, and still totally socially acceptable. When my bf saw it, he was like “oh, ok, I get it. I’m cool with that… I had a little surprise for him though…

When we got to his place, I told him I wanted him to wear something along the same lines, but a bit more ridiculous. I told him I wanted him to wear knee high socks with his costume, and the shortest shorts he could find. Then I made him put on a white polo shirt, and this blue and tan sweater vest over the top of it. I had him put on the sweatband on his head too, and that was pretty much it, he was done… He asked me if I forgot a tennis racket for him, but I said no, he didn’t need one… He was my ball boy - and I dropped a tennis ball in front of him while looking right at him. He looked at me a little funny, but then I did the little “Ahem!” thing, and pointed to the ball, and he got the picture. He grinned and sheepishly picked it up and handed it back to me. I just said “all night long, understand? Every time that happens, you better come running” And he smiled. He knew the deal…

Karissa’s party was awesome. She and a couple other girls share a big house, and it is a good party house because it is open, and has a big outdoor space with an awning over it so you can be outside, but still be covered if it is rainy or whatever. It’s pretty cool. Anyway, by the time we got there, there were like 20 other friends/acquaintances of ours there already. Some cool costumes, some stupid ones, some that didn’t even try. I couldn’t criticize anybody though, because mine was pretty simple too. I told people that I took the easy way out because I had just gotten back from Hawaii, and that usually sufficed to change the conversation away from my relatively uninspired costume effort. However, I would randomly “drop” a tennis ball during every other conversation or so, and my boyfriend would rush in, pick it up, hand it back to me and rush out whenever it happened. It made most of my friends laugh a few times… Here was Courtney and her boyfriend, being all cutesy in couples costumes… Right? I felt a little sneaky… A little devious. All those people just thought he was my ball boy, but he and I both knew what was really going on… After I had a few drinks, I stopped calling him “my ball boy”. And started calling him “my ball bitch” in front of my friends. They still laughed. He blushed a little… I wonder why?

At about 8 or 8:30, I decided I was feeling frisky enough, so I sorta cornered my boyfriend alone for a minute, and asked him how he liked being my little ball bitch? He told me he liked it, and I asked him if he wanted me to take it further. He asked what I had in mind, and I told him I could text Brandon and invite him over… After all, I hadn’t seen him in over a week, and I was getting a little… antsy again. After a little bit of whispering in his ear for convincing, and a little bit of light petting… He finally agreed. I said “thanks babe”, and pulled out my phone to text Brandon.

I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was just drinking beer and watching basketball on TV. I told him that I was home from Hawaii, and that I was at a Halloween party with my bf, but that it was really boring, and my bf was probably drunk already, and I may have mentioned how I hadn’t seen him in a long time… Hint, hint… His first reaction was to say that he didn’t have a Halloween costume, but when I assured him that a fair number of people at the party didn’t have one either, he agreed. I texted him the address, and he said he would be over in about a half hour. I immediately went back to the back hard and found my boyfriend to tell him what was up. I told him “remember, you are already pretty drunk -but I might be a little tipsy too, and you know how I get a little handsy when I get tipsy”. And he said that he would do his best, he was just nervous about seeing Brandon again… I could understand that. I’m sure it’s a pretty awkward position to be in… But… Too late now!

Brandon showed up about 20 min later. He did go through some effort… He put on some kind of Tshirt with a skull on it. Better than nothing I guess. He knows Karissa, but hadn’t ever been to her house, so it wasn’t like he was crashing the party or anything. He said his hellos, played it cool, and walked around the party a few times. I was talking to a couple friends, and he was right over one of my friends left shoulder, in another group of guys talking, but I knew he was looking at me… I could feel it. I wasn’t even really listening to the girls I was standing with, because I was concentrating on Brandon… I dropped a tennis ball “Oops! Ball Bitch?!?” He came running, the girls laughed… Haha, funny little Courtney and her cute ball boy boyfriend… How innocent…

In the garage, Karissa and her roommates had set up a beer pong table. If you don’t know what beer pong is, google it. It is called different things in different places, but essentially you have two teams and you try to throw a ping pong bottle into cups of beer to make the other team drink… Simple enough, right? Well, I saw this, and decided that I wanted to play. The way we play, you need a partner, who stands next to you, and he competition is on the other side… So I had an idea… I went up to my bf, and told him to go get a beer, and go the the garage, but be really drunk, and to tell me no when I asked him to be my partner.

I went back to the garage, and here were probably 10 or 15 people there watching, and 4 people playing. Just like I has suspected, Brandon followed me out there soon after. The game continued until here was just one cup left for one team, at which point, I called e next game… No arguments from the crowd… I just needed a partner. I asked my drunk boyfriend who was leaning up against the garage door with half open eyes and a beer in each hand (nice touch!). But he told me no! (The nerve!). I needed to find a partner quick, so I went up and asked Brandon… “What do you think? Want to play?” He said “won’t he be pissed?” And nodded at my boyfriend. I said “he doesn’t even know where he is right now”. And after he looked at my bf another time or two, he agreed to be my partner. Perfect.

In beer pong, you take turns, one team shoots, then the other… The more you drink, the worse you get, for obvious reasons. Brandon and I did alright our first game. We actually beat the team that had won the game before that. So we stayed at the table, and two guys were up next for the following game. That’s when I “really started to feel it”. Or so I told Brandon. My shots “accidentally” got farther and farther away from the cups, until one time… Oops! I missed the table all together! My ping pong ball went rolling around the garage floor. “Ball Bitch?!?” (His role want just for tennis balls, right?). He got up, and stumbled around remarkably well (maybe he was actually drunk by now?). And as he chased the ball, everybody in he garage laughed… What a cute little innocent couples costume…

I took the opportunity with everybody distracted by my gentleman of a boyfriend to arch my back, and grind my ass right into The front of Brandon’s pants. I wasn’t subtle. He got the hint. A few turns later… “Ball bitch?!?” More laughter, and this time his hand went up my skirt and grabbed my ass… Yup, this was happening…

We lost the beer pong game. I didn’t care. I told Brandon I would be back in a minute, and I took my boyfriend by he arm and led him into the house, and into a corner again… I’m sure everybody at the party saw how drunk he was, and was assuming that I was telling him to stop drinking or something… Little did they know. I told him about Brandon feeling my ass while everybody was distracted. I told him I missed on purpose the first time so I could make sure he knew I wanted it… It turned him on immediately. I asked him what he wanted me to do next, and he said “more”. And I said “no, that’s not going to cut it ball bitch, I want to hear you say it”. And after a moment or two of resistance, he said “fuck him”. And I said “say it, all of it, I want to hear you say what you want your girlfriend to do”. There was a bit of a muffled moan, and he said “Courtney, please fuck him tonight”. I said, “are you sure? You haven’t seen me in a week either… Is that really what you want?” And he nodded, without saying anything. I said “good, get a ride home, I’ll see you in the morning”. And turned around and left him in the corner and went back to the garage.

Brandon was still there. We made eye contact. As soon as he saw me he came over to me again. I told him that [bf] was drunk out of his mind! and had no idea what was happening. We waited around for a bit… Talked to a few people… I tried to hide the fact that I was so turned on from all my friends who were there… We lasted about 15 minutes. When we went inside, my bf was gone. Brandon followed me out front. I didn’t say anything, but my bf’s car was gone. He probably just drove home. “Your house or mine?” I asked him, and we both got in his car. He drove to his house. On the way he mentioned that my boyfriend had to be a complete fucking idiot to get that drunk when his girlfriend looked like I did on Halloween night. (That’s a compliment, right?). I told him I knew, and that I was super pissed about that, and that was why I was going home with him… He liked that.

His roommate was home. The same one that let me in when I went for the evening jog. He saw us when we walked in the door. I didn’t care. We went straight to Brandon’s room and I was on all fours on his bed in about 4 seconds. He didn’t even bother with the tank top, sports bra or skirt, just yanked off my underwear and dropped his pants. It was fucking hot. I told him I wanted it bad. I told him I wanted it to be hard. I told him that a 9 day trip to Hawaii was too long to go without ass. I moaned a little when he called me a little slut and pulled my hair. I came. Lots.

In all the times I’ve been with Brandon, it has been a matter of an hour or two. Except for the quickie for 15 min on the night of the jog, and the long marathon that was my birthday. It was always sex. Just sex, and then leaving. I didn’t do that last night. We fucked 3 times last night. Then I was so exhausted, both from the sex and the travel before, that in couldn’t stand it. I slept there, naked, with him. Then we went at it twice more in the morning for good measure before I walked home. Yup. Did the walk of shame… So sue me. I liked it. So did my ball bitch when I told him about it this afternoon. It made him cum without me even touching him…

Happy Halloween everybody! Hope you had fun. I know I sure did.

Click here to read the story that goes with this naughty caption.

I’ll spoil the end for you, ladies: He’s always going to want you to wake him up. He’s always going to want to feast on your freshly-fucked pussy, whether you’re having bareback sex with your lover or not.

Waking your cuckold up and letting him taste you after you’ve been with another man is a wonderful treat for him. It’s the thing that can wash away any jealousy, angst, or anxiety he might have felt while you were gone. It’s a kindness, in a way.

It’s a way of letting your cuckold reclaim you. You can fuck him if you want, but chances are good you’ll just have been with someone far better and you won’t want to sully the memory of that encounter by having sex with your cuckold. Instead, sit on his face and let him taste you or get on your back and let him lick your pussy to your heart’s content.

If you want another orgasm, have him work your clit with his tongue. If your cuckold seems extra vulnerable, letting him be the last man to make you cum that night can be a way to heal any damage that might have been done to his ego. You don’t have to, of course. You’re welcome to savor the deeply pleasurable orgasm your lover gave you.

If you’re in the mood there’s nothing but upside to letting your cuckold taste you after you’ve been with someone else. Let him feast on your pussy. Let him enjoy how delicious it is.

Become a Patreon supporter for more cuckold captions just like this one along with hundreds of stories, audio files, and more.

…without even knowing his name…{blushing}…<3 emmie @ le cocu quotidien.

My girlfriend and I are at a friend’s apartments for a party.

The laughter and loud conversation are interrupted by the delicate sound of a pie fork being tapped lightly against a wine glass. Our friend strides into our midst and announces that she has a surprise for us all.

A magician.

We exchange a look. Were this anyone else’s party such news would have had us heading discreetly toward the door but this friend is wealthy and brilliant, with exquisite taste, so our curiosity is piqued.

She makes a theatrical gesture toward the parlor door, where a handsome, dark-eyed man looms in a well-cut gray suit. He smiles kindly, angling his head briefly to acknowledge the smattering of polite applause, and we as a group all gather closer.

He wanders among us, his hands warm in our own, as coins turn into cards then into feathers and wrist watches somehow switch wrists before vanishing completely.

At one point in his performance he asks for a volunteer. There are murmurs and whispers for an impossible moment, then my girlfriend gives my hand a squeeze and steps forward.

So brave, he says, taking her hand with a flourish and bowing slightly, and so lovely. She blushes, to cheers and whistles.

Hands in front of you, palms up, he says and she compiles. And so obedient, he says, gestures toward her and motioning for a round of applause. She laughs and flushes crimson again.

From the inside of his jacket he withdraws a length of rope and a bracelet-size silver ring. He places the ring flat on her outstretched palm of her left hand, then loops the rope through it and lightly around her wrist, draping the remainder up her arm, over her shoulders, then down around her waist.

He steadies himself, takes a deep breath, then whips the rope away. A gasp goes around the room: The silver bracelet now dangles from her opposite wrist.

Applause and open mouths. He smiles broadly, then raises his eyebrows and holds up a finger. He takes my girlfriend’s left hand and places it over the bracelet on her right hand, then withdraws another, identical ring from within his jacket, and places it onto the back of her hand. He loops the rope through the ring, then lays over her hands three times, back and forth and back again. He steadies himself and, with surprising vigor, he whips the rope away again. 

More gasps, louder this time: The bracelet is around her left wrist but both bracelets are now looped, one through the other.

My girlfriend struggles to separate her hands but the rings are too narrow to slip off. Help, she wails comedically to robust laughter.

He holds up a finger again. Oh what now, she moans, to more laughter. From inside his jacket he withdraws another ring, larger this time, and he places it, with great ceremony, on top of her head.

I’m never coming to one of your parties again, my girlfriend says loudly and the hostess’s laughter is loudest of all. 

Carefully he threads the rope through the ring, then winds it around the back of my girlfriend’s head, over her shoulder, and down between her manacled hands. He takes a moment to stretch his fingers, then, gripping the rope tightly, he sets his feet, breathes in and out deeply, and pulls.

Gasps again: The rings on her wrists clatter to the floor and the one on top of her head now rests snugly around her neck.

The applause is loud and sustained. My girlfriend looks stunned, her hands going instinctively to the collar around her throat. We surround her and run our fingers along its curved shape but the chrome is unbroken and unyielding.

The magician takes a deep bow and blows a kiss with both hands to the hostess, who leads us all in fervent applause. 

Excuse me, my girlfriend says at an exaggerated volume. A little help please?

More laughter, then the music fades back in. 

I’m in the kitchen, refilling our drinks, watching her recount the story over and again animatedly, the collar shining brightly against her skin, when the magician reappears, hat on his head, overcoat draped over his arm, case in his hand. 

Thank you again everyone, he says, giving a wide wave and turning to leave. My girlfriend heads after him, catching him by the arm in the narrow hallway entrance.

So seriously, she says to him. How do I get this thing off?

He smiles broadly. I’m so sorry, he says. It doesn’t come off. 

She laughs then tugs on it helplessly. Seriously though, she says. I can’t just walk around with this thing on for the rest of my life.

I’ll make you a deal, he says. Have a drink with me and I’ll see what I can do.

Deal, she says, taking his hand and turning back toward the party. What’ll you have?

No no, he says. Not here, not now. Next week. You pick the place; I’ll buy the drinks.

 She laughs again, her finger hooked around the metal loop as she shakes her head slowly. Fine, she says finally, looking up at him

He extends his hand and out of thin air a business card appears between his fingers. My number, he says.

You know I have a boyfriend, right? she says, tilting her head, her smile side.

I know, he says. But he can’t come.

For the rest of the party I watch her from across the room. She glows and beams and poses with people for photos. 

Better keep an eye on that, someone says to me as I empty and refill my glass, touching up the smile fixed on my lips.

That night I lie awake, staring at the silver glinting in the streetlight as she sleeps beside me.

I hope you’re not jealous, she says. It’s Tuesday afternoon of the following week and she’s getting ready to meet him. It’s just a drink or two, which I think you have to admit he earned with that show.

She kisses me, then again, opening her mouth to me and for a moment all I think about is crawling into bed with her. But when I put my hands on her face to pull her closer I feel the smooth steel warmed by her skin.

She disappears into the bedroom to change. I hear the sound of leather sliding and I feel the bottom of my stomach drop out. She’s going to wear those pants, the ones she knows I like, the ones she bought herself for my birthday, that she wears whenever she wants to get everything she wants.

Another moment more and out she walks. Sure enough, she’s wearing them, her special occasion pants, pairing them with a clingy sweater and a pair of whisper-thin stiletto heels. She wants to look good for him. And she does.

Another kiss, just a peck this time, brief but long enough for me to catch a whiff of a perfume I don’t recognize. 

Have a relaxing evening, she says, breezy but measured, as if she’s eager to leave but doesn’t want to show it. And don’t forget, as soon as I get this collar off I’m all yours again.

It’s midnight when I finally give up waiting and turn off the light. 

Her boss is tall and handsome and older than her.

She thinks of him when she sees it, when she tries it on in the dressing room, when she buys it for herself and secrets it into her closet at home.

How could she know you would find it?

How could she know what you'd think?

After hours in the office, unavoidable in her glistening rubber sheath, he appears in her office doorway and asks if she's free to grab a drink.

He's met you before.

He's aware that you exist.

He just doesn't care.

How could you know how it would sound, the gentle drops of his pleasure, falling from her lips and landing on taunt rubber stretched across bended knees, how distant she's be when finally she returned home to you?

She never would have imagined it.

But the mind is a mystery, capable of many impossible things.