Gwendolyn
Copyright© 2026 by yfnsp
Chapter 4
I arrived right on time.
After a night of restlessly wrestling with my fears and desires, I resolved to meet Gwendolyn’s demands whatever they might be. She had made it clear that I would never be allowed to fuck her, and yet, she enjoyed making me cum. And then there was the promise - she had said so - of pussy licking. That was almost as good as fucking wasn’t it?
In the end, I had no choice; no way was I going to pass up eating her out. I was already becoming addicted to the taste of her pussy and I knew I would be able to make her cum that way. And, I rationalized, it wouldn’t be forever; sooner or later she was bound to relent and “go all the way” with me.
Once I had yielded to the inevitable, my anticipation began to grow. I mulled over the words she had used. “Training.” “Worship.” I tried to imagine what they might portend. And, despite my night-long hard-on, I refrained from masturbating. I was amazed and encouraged by the feedback loop created by my constant arousal and the obedience I practiced, causing my desire for Gwendolyn to only increase through the night.
I was in the car at six-thirty, dressed for running, with my gym bag containing a clean pair of socks, underwear, jeans, and tee-shirt. I had brushed my teeth and, considering Gwendolyn’s promise of pussy worship, I shaved my face closely. I drove to her street and parked a block away, and waited until it was time. I parked in her driveway at exactly seven o’clock.
Gwendolyn, looking fresh and radiant as the bright September morning, skipped lightly down the porch steps. She was wearing a pair of black running shorts with white trim and a white tank top, like the day before. And like that first encounter, the simplicity of her dress only accentuated her startling beauty.
She greeted me with a sweet little kiss on the lips, standing on tiptoe beside the car. “Let’s go!” she said, and started off down the driveway with a light, springy gait. I was beside her on the sidewalk in an instant, uplifted by her contagious spirit.
“Hey, good morning!” I said cheerfully, jogging beside her. All my fears and trepidations had vanished now that I was with her again.
“Hey,” she responded, smiling. “How was your night? Did you think of me?”
“Only all night,” I said honestly. I wanted her to have no doubt about my obsession with her.
“I like that,” she stated. “And did you behave?” Her tone sounded playful, but I thought it had an admonitory edge.
“Yes, Gwendolyn,” I responded, decidedly formally. I wanted it on record.
She was silent for half a block. We were running away from the main street, in a purely residential neighborhood of older houses of mixed vintage. The terrain was flat and we were running at a comfortable pace for me, about six miles per hour.
“Good boy,” she said. It sounded like a pronouncement. It sounded consequential, important to her, as I realized it was to me too. It dawned on me at that moment just how important. Earning her approval was life and breath. My heart swelled with pride. And my cock did too.
Running with a boner is a great sensation. You should try it. It wasn’t my first time. Your cock bounces to your steps and rubs against your shorts, making every stride a tingling reward. But this time was different. Running with Gwendolyn meant that the source and object of my arousal was present, beside me, in the flesh. I fervently wished that she were aware of my state, that I could somehow transmit my desire telepathically. I needed her to know how much I needed her.
I slowed and let her get ahead of me just so I could look at her. Beauty incarnate, she was exquisitely shaped and toned to perfection. Her pony tail swung from side to side just above her shoulders, but I could ignore that distraction. I focused on her ass, perfectly formed, perfectly firm, art in motion.
She suddenly darted sideways like a basketball feint, and looped back behind me.
SMACK
She delivered a sharp little slap on my butt. “No lollygagging,” she said, “and stop staring at my ass!” she teased.
“Why not? You have the prettiest ass in the world.”
She smacked mine again. “Yours is pretty cute too, you know.”
“Runners do have the nicest butts,” I said.
“Well, just keep up. You’ll get plenty of my ass later, don’t worry.”
We were back in step, side by side.
“Hey, what’s this?” she exclaimed, grasping my boner, visibly tenting my shorts.
“Do you need an anatomy lesson?” I retorted in an attempt at witty repartee.
“So you do like me?” she teased.
“No, this is just my normal state,” I laughed, and then added, “Whenever you’re around.” I paused and then admitted, “Or anytime I happen to think about you.” Pause. “Which is pretty much whenever you’re not around.” I didn’t know if she could tell that I was blushing.
“The new normal?” she laughed. “I like that. You’re such a good boy!”
When we arrived back at the house, she sprinted ahead up the porch steps and led me around to a side door. It opened to a long stairway up to her attic apartment. I enjoyed following her up, keeping her ass at eye level as we climbed at a leisurely pace, cooling down from the run.
She stopped and turned on the landing at the top of the stairs. “Wait here,” she said, with her back to the door. “Where are your clothes?”
I had left my bag in the car. She waited while I retrieved it. She held out her hand and I handed it to her.
“Undress,” she said. Her tone, suddenly authoritative, implied that we were now on a different footing. Gwendolyn was taking control.
I complied silently. It was quick. I stood before her, my cock at attention, as if in acknowledgement of her authority.
“Give me your clothes,” she said. I gathered them up and put them in her arms.
“Wait here,” she said. She turned, entered her room, and closed the door behind her.
I waited, naked. My arousal made the wait feel like a test of my devotion. I didn’t have to wait long.
She opened the door. She was wearing a thin cotton bathrobe. It covered her from her throat to her knees, but it didn’t hide her exquisite form. She stood before me in all her radiance, and looked me over, her eyes inscrutable.
“Kneel,” she intoned firmly. I knelt.
“Kiss my feet.”
There was something inevitable in this, a next step in Gwendolyn’s ascendency. Kneeling before her, I now bowed my head low, near the floor, like a serf to a queen. I pressed my lips to her feet, first one, then the other, an acknowledgement of my lowly state, but as I tasted and breathed in her foot-sweat, it was also a boon. I was awash in gratitude as well as humility.
“Good boy,” she pronounced from high above me. She moved her foot slightly, so that her toes were under my lips.
I extended my tongue to lick as I kissed them. The musky salt flavor drove me to ply my tongue between her toes. I licked and sucked, laving and loving her toes. When the flavor waned, I repeated the act on her other foot.
“Do you want to come in with me?” she asked, placing a hand on my bowed head.
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