Gwendolyn
Copyright© 2026 by yfnsp
Chapter 5: A Relationship
It was with deep reverence that I listened to the voice of my Goddess.
I had been thoroughly proselytized. Now, the simplest everyday activities were magical, imbued with wonder. We were simply eating breakfast in her kitchenette.
“There’s granola in the cupboard and milk and orange juice in the fridge,” Gwendolyn had said. “Would you mind? And turn on the coffeemaker - it’s all set to go.”
The only thing that a casual observer might have thought odd while I puttered about was my nakedness. Gwendolyn put on her clothes while I put our simple meal on the table. I poured her coffee before taking my seat beside her at her tiny table in the alcove under the dormer. It was a pleasure to wait on her; it felt inadequate, though. She spoke to me casually, a far cry from our recent communion. And it put me a little off balance, despite my rapturous happiness.
“I’m so glad you’re a runner too,” she was saying. “I’ve never had a running partner before. It’s so much more fun to run with a buddy. We’ll do it every day.” She beamed at me with affection.
I was smitten. Once again. A few minutes earlier she had been wielding a fiercely possessive power over me. But I was beginning to understand her. I was to be her friend and her subject. Her lover and her slave. Her boyfriend and her toy. The duality didn’t daunt me; for me, it was simply to love and obey. I could do that. I had been doing it since we first spoke.
But we had crossed a threshold. Literally. Beginning with the conditions she imposed for entry to her home when she led me through her door. And then she had given her body to worship. And then she had rewarded me. Even though worshiping her had been a reward in itself, she had praised me for it and then offered me the prize.
She had allowed me to kiss and lick her pussy. Standing over me, as I knelt in the shower stall, she placed her hand gently on my head as if to calm me, and had let me explore her sex with my lips and tongue at my own pace. I was transported. It was more than sex. It was a spiritual experience.
I knew not to touch my cock. She had claimed it as her possession the day before. So the deep reverence and gratitude with which I immersed myself in pleasuring her, tasting every part of her glorious pussy, every fold and crevice, was illuminated by my own heightened arousal. I had been rock hard almost continuously for hours. And yet, my pleasure, my need, was overshadowed by her flavors and scents, and by the textures and the heat of her swollen, syrupy flesh.
And I made her cum! Twice! Her first orgasm came on slowly as I leisurely explored her with my tongue, drinking her juices while my head swam in her heated fragrance. She rocked and spasmed and gushed, stifling her moans as if to deny her release so that I would continue. I gulped down all I could of her fragrant flood and then I lapped gently at her orifice as it continued to seep until she recovered.
Then she took control. She mashed my face into her slippery, spreading folds and fucked me breathless to an even harder, screaming finish. That was the greatest reward of all.
Gwendolyn slid down the wall and sat, legs splayed on the shower floor, smiling and sweaty. She beckoned me closer. I crawled, kneeling between her thighs. She took my erection in her hand.
“Now I get to play with you,” she said, fondly fondling my cock, feeling its contours, testing its stiffness, its resilience, and smearing its precum all over it.
“Do you want to cum?” she asked, her voice all innocence. She stroked it purposefully.
“Yes, please, Gwendolyn,” I replied huskily. She stroked it ever so slowly, keeping me on edge.
“You know, you’re not allowed to cum without my permission,” she said. She had been adding rules all morning.
I simply nodded. It had been implied by other rules. It was her cock, not mine.
She stroked faster, her grip tighter, her strokes longer. “I want you to cum, Mike. Cum on my tits!” she said “Cum now!”
I spurted forcefully, copiously, streaking her chest with ribbons and stripes and blobs of cum, on, between, and dripping off the long pink nipples of, her perfect breasts.
What came next, I didn’t need to be told. I leaned in and began licking my cum from her skin, saving her nipples for last. I swallowed all the cum. I was used to that already on this, my second day with Gwendolyn.
I nursed gently on her nipples, each in turn, with the taste of my cum and of her skin in my mouth, until she told me to stop. Then she turned on the water and we washed each other using bare hands and body wash. When we had rinsed the suds away, she lathered up the hair around my cock and balls and shaved it all off with her little pink lady’s razor.
“Now it looks more like it’s mine,” she said. “Isn’t it pretty?”
After we dried ourselves, she suggested breakfast. It was more than my empty stomach that made the meal so memorable. This was our second meal together, and like dinner the night before, conversation came easily. It was odd to think that we had only met the afternoon before.
I agreed with her that we should make morning runs together a daily habit. And then she asked me about my studies and my plans for the future. It was crazy: I had literally bared myself to Gwendolyn and I was completely enthralled to her, and yet she didn’t really know anything about my life yet.
“I’m majoring in history, but I’m planning to apply to law school,” I told her.
“Oh, I like that!” she said. “Law is kind of like applied anthropology. Making rules for society, you know? Deciding how people live together.”
“You do like that!” I laughed. “Making rules, I mean.”
“Don’t you like my rules?” she countered. “I could make a new one right now...”
I dropped to my knees and said, “Your wish is my command.” It was a touching moment, actually, because we both knew it was the truth.
I dressed on the stairway landing outside her door and she rode with me back to campus. My thoughts raced over the tumultuous events of the past eighteen hours, by my calculation. Again, I was intrigued by the juxtaposition of the ordinary and the extraordinary as we chatted.
“I didn’t see your cat,” I commented at one point, remembering our first conversation.
“That’s because he hasn’t moved in yet. He’s still back home. Toby. He’s an orange short-haired tabby.”
“Nice! I like those. They say orange cats are the friendliest.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Toby’s a little snooty though. And a mischief maker. But, I think he’ll like you fine.” She laughed at that witticism. “My dad was going to bring him up this week, but he had a schedule change. Why don’t you drive us down to get him?”
“This weekend?”
“Yes.”
“I have to work on Saturday afternoon. I work at the Union, but only on game days. There’s a home game on Saturday, so the Tavern will be packed.”
“Oh!” she said with a twinge of disappointment. “You didn’t say you had a job.”
“Only on game days, and not always when they’re away. I can get off some of those Saturdays.” I hated to disappoint my queen. “We could go Sunday. It’s only two and a half hours each way. I’ve done the round trip in a day lots of times.” Well, a couple of times, anyway.
“Okay. It’ll be fun,” she said.
I parked the car and we went up to my dorm room. I had to swap my gym bag for my bookbag. Gwendolyn came up with me out of curiosity.