Fiction: Journey Down, Part 2

The First Week -- Sunday

Dave had driven her home, saying she'd hear from him "very soon." Terri didn't really believe it . . . it wasn't exactly an original thing to say, and for whatever reason guys seemed to often come down with buyer's remorse after fucking Terri's brains out.

Terri lazed on the couch, absently flipping channels . . . neither "Bridezillas" or "Property Virgins" holding her interest. She was grateful it was Sunday -- she felt tired, but not body tired . . . emotionally tired was the best way she could think of to describe it. She needed the day . . . well, she had the nagging feeling she needed a lot more than "the day," but she needed the day to at least be able to face the week. The (presumed) Debacle of Dave would hurt less with time . . .

Terri was seriously considering bundling herself up in her bed and passing out when her cell phone went off. She didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Dave." Terri had one of those multi-faceted moments. She was shocked and excited and happy that to hear his voice, but at the same time she immediately began frantically trying to recall giving Dave her cell phone number. She gave up trying after a few seconds, her mind suddenly blank.

"Uhh. . . hi, Dave. It's . . . good to hear your voice." She blanched -- jeez, Terri, could you sound any more like an idiot?

Dave's manner was smooth without being slick. He exuded self-control, and Terri realized that was a big part of her attraction to him . . . she could feel submissive around him because he had himself under control -- he could be trusted.

He glossed right over Terri's nervousness. "Great to hear your voice, too, Terri. I called to say I had a wonderful time."

Terri didn't need any prompting. She hadn't been letting herself really enjoy how great last night had been because she'd been assuming she'd never hear from him again.

"Dave, I had a fantastic time . . . "

She felt she could hear his smile through the phone. "Well, I had a feeling . . . "

Dave that hang in the silence long enough, then switched gears.

I wanted to talk about this week and next weekend. "Dinner, Friday night. And -- keep the rest of the weekend clear . . . if things go well there's other things I want to explore."

Terri bit her lip . . . he hadn't asked if she wanted to go out . . . he just knew that she did. And, while some might have thought it presumptuous of him to expect her to be free for him all weekend, Terri jut nodded, entranced, until she realized that she needed to actually speak, since they were on the phone.

"Yes . . . of course . . . sounds great."

"Good. Now . . . since you like when I tell you what to do, Terri . . . I'm going to tell you to do something." He paused, but clearly Terri was supposed to listen at this point, not speak. She squirmed on the couch as he continued.

"I want you to not masturbate this week. You can manage that for me, I know."

Terri instinctively pushed her legs together as her cunt tingled under her robe. She swallowed hard. The voice that came out of her . . . she wasn't sure where it came from, or to whom it actually belonged . . . she answered without thinking.

"Unnh . . . yes, Dave. I . . . can do that for you."

"Mmm. Good girl"

Her cunt throbbed again.

"OK, I have to run. You'll hear from me . . . Wednesday, about details for Friday. Bye . . . and remember . . . you promised. And I'll know if you cheat."

He hung up before she could answer . . . which was fortunate, since the sound that came out of her was hardly conversational.

She went back to flipping channels but soon gave up . . . suddenly and acutely aware how pretty much everything on TV, programs and advertising, was about sex, in some way or other. She put down the remote and pulled here robe open . . . spreading her legs, she let her hand slide down her tummy . . . . she could feel the needy heat emanating from her sex . . .

Fuuuuck . . . I have to touch myself . . . I think I'm going to explode. He'll never know . . . and I can't take it.

She let out a frustrated little yelp and closed her robe up. She was overcome . . . not with a sudden onslaught of terrible goodness, but with the unmistakable certainty that somehow he would know if she touched herself.

She picked up the remote and went back to flipping channels.