The Secret Life 002: Tee

This diary was never meant to be read by anyone else, so I must surely trust you with my most intimate details. Unfiltered passions, loves, desires. Each entry can be read with no prior knowledge. If we indeed have a personal, a private, and a secret life, you will find here the latter, the life no one else has had access to before. Treat it well, won't you?

002 - FFO: Female domination, smothering, gentle femdom

Remember Tee? That evening changed everything for the remainder of our relationship. She took her newfound confidence out of the bedroom, she stopped hiding up the back at gigs, dressed more like herself out and about. Whenever she needed a boost, she'd text me, something half-sweet, half-flirtatious. Usually a question: tell me again how I looked before I left the house this morning? I wonder if our underwear matches colour today? Say more about how much you love kissing me?

Just little seeds, planting ideas in our minds, about giving her all my attention, about being in a state of undress, about the way we kiss.

You know how the last time went, so let me tell you about the next time.

It was date night. Our sixth month anniversary had been spent a certain way, if you remember, so a few days later we celebrated more traditionally. Until later in the night, anyway, but I'll get to that.

I met her at our favourite Italian place across town, closer to where she lived. We had gone there on our fourth or fifth date, and returned whenever we had something to celebrate. Often we'd celebrate things like getting to the end of the working week or when one of us finished reading a book. Sometimes we'd purposefully pick 100-page novellas just so we could go to dinner again soon.

She wore a twilight blue dress, falling to just above her ankles. It was the kind of dress that told me I was exactly where I was meant to be. The sleeves had fine lace detailing, and a ribbon cinched around her waist. Her hair was full and flowing, and a pair of handmade earrings, tiny Converse shoes, peeked out from beneath. She had picked them out at a Christmas market, a little part of her pop punk personality among the elegance. The dress was low cut in a way that said: remember these?

I had never seen her so feminine. She favoured band merch, baggy jeans, and Chuck Taylors. I never knew she owned heels. How could she have kept them from me?

I came as she liked me. A buttoned up plaid shirt, smart trousers, hair shaggy as always. A little facial scruff along with her favourite fragrance. We looked pretty proper together, for once. Our previous dates here were smart-casual. She was sheer elegance on this night.

In the few days since I'd seen her, she'd had a tough time at work. Absences, department politics. I'd been at home, writing a paper. My apartment was a mess with notes and half-full mugs of tea, and I hadn't slept much. We started our meal off with sympathetic nods and commiserations. We'd been going through it this week. We had something in common though: we'd both been thinking about our sixth month anniversary a lot.

You're coming back to mine after this, right? she said.

I'd love to, I said.

Good.

I wondered if she had another idea. I loved her last one.

The mood lightened once we'd gotten the last few days off our chests. She told me about an upcoming tour she was going to six dates of. I told her I'd already decided on the next novella I would read, so we might end up back here soon. The pasta and gelato were perfect. We were full. Ready for more.

She told me about a friend she'd spoken to on the phone last night. Her friend was also a girl who fretted over her size. Tee told her she knows, it's hard, it bothers her every day, but the right man won't mind. In fact, for the right man, it's the right thing.

Did you tell her what you did to me? I said.

Maybe. She smiled.

And what did she think of that?

It perked her up. She didn't believe me at first, obviously. But I promised her. She told me she was blushing, and that it was the kind of blush that said, maybe one day I'll do that too.

We were aware of everyone around us, so we spoke in code. We referred to the other night and that thing you did. We later laughed that it sounded like she'd killed someone.

A few seconds more and I might have done, she said.

I hardened, remembering.

We paid, tipped, and walked the ten minutes back to hers. It was a pleasant spring evening; people sat in the square for the first time this year, chatting, drinking, catching up. Tee later told me she looked at them all, thinking, they don't know what I'm taking this boy home to do to him. I didn't either.

Her flat was surprisingly organised for someone with such a stressful job. The walls were covered in posters of bands and signed gig tickets, and a guitar hung in the corner of her living room. She used to play in school, but she hadn't touched it seriously in at least ten years. She says she will, again, someday. She never played for me. In her bedroom, overlapping rugs covered the exposed wooden floors, and fairy lights were draped across every wall. On a chest of drawers were some photos of friends and family.

She pointed to a girl in one of the photos.

This girl right here knows I smothered you with my boobs a few days ago.

I laughed and said wasn't she lucky to know such things.

But you smothered a t-shirt, technically, and the t-shirt smothered me.

You've got a point, she said.

She sat on her bed in front of me, lifted one leg over the over to unfasten a heel. Did she lean forward a little? She swapped legs to unfasten the other shoe. And she definitely leaned forward. She stayed leaning forward, then looked up at me to make sure I was looking at her. She'd previously worried her boobs were too much, but now, right now, she wanted me to think of little else.

She lit some candles in silence, letting the tension settle in the air, then sprayed a fragrance round the room, on the rugs and pillows. It was a romantic scene, but there was an edge. We hadn't had sex, I hadn't seen her naked, but clearly something changed a few nights prior. Where were we now?

I think what we did a few nights ago was romantic, she said, reading my mind. It was sweet. Intimate. Sensual.

I agreed.

I know what you like. You know what I like, now. Sharing that together makes me happy. She was still arranging the room, calming it.

I agreed, again.

Then she looked at me.

And it also makes me really, really wet.

My face flooded with warmth. My underwear filled, pushing against my trousers.

I think it's romantic when you do what I say.

I nodded.

She came to me, stood in front of me, looked up to meet my eyes.

I think it's time I saw you naked. No t-shirt, on your body or over your head.

I nodded again. She stood with an expectant smile, as I unbuttoned my shirt, placed it softly to the side. Removed my shoes, unbuckled my trousers, placed them on top. Socks off. A pause.

I was aware of her, in her dress still, her elegance, her power. Clothed, entirely clothed. Me, almost the opposite. We looked at each other for a moment, then another, and I reached for my underwear, and I--

Stop, she said. Maybe I should do the honours.

So she kneeled, right there in front of me, and looked up with a grin. A grin that said you're mine. And when she hooked her fingers over the bands of my boxers and pulled them down, I appeared to her, hard, wet, already ready. And completely naked.

She stood and took a step back, taking me in. She bit her lip. That was all I needed to breathe out. She nodded, smiled, slipping back into romantic Tee for a second with this innocent gesture of excitement. We were just a boy and a girl with crushes, then, for a moment.

But it passed, and her eyes fixed back on mine, and from then, the night was all hers.

She spoke lightly, casually, when she said get comfy on the bed. Put a pillow under your back, a couple under your head. Sink into it. It's a good bed.

She watched me move, naked, completely, for the first time. I felt her checking me out. I felt her excitement grow.

She had what felt like tens of pillows, so I took the softest ones and gently lay back on them. Their fluffy fabrics felt like safety against my skin. I was propped up in a way that felt like a therapist's couch, except I felt far more vulnerable. I told her, okay.

At that, she removed her earrings, and cleared the bed of all the other pillows and a few cuddly animals. She gathered her hair in her hands and swept it behind her. That dress, I was obsessed with that dress. Rather than hide her curves, the way she always had, it accentuated them. She'd never looked more confident. Standing in front of me, she looked taller, her legs longer, her ass wider, her boobs bigger than at the fantasy ball. The dress was made for her specifically, I am sure of it.

With that she crawled on her hands and knees from the foot of the bed towards me. Her hips swaying from side to side with each movement, her boobs framed perfectly by her dress in my eyeline. Her bed wasn't long, but it felt like it took a lifetime. I needed her on me, now.

She crawled past my legs, my waist, my chest, until her face met mine. I realised then: we'd always laid beside each other. I'd never been on top of her and she'd never been on top of me. Now, the insides of her thighs were warmly against the outside of mine. She lowered her body on to me, wrapping her arms round my neck. Her soft, gentle mouth met mine. My hands traced her body, savouring the dress, savouring the girl in the dress. They moved to her face, her hair, they kept our mouths from separating.

We kissed like we were about to fuck. My hands tried to touch all of her body at once. To pull her so close there was no space between us. She held my jaw with one of her hands and kissed me deep.

Then she stopped. Pulled back. Looked at me the moment the hardness between my legs matched the wetness between hers.

What if we reenacted the other night? Except this time you're naked. And there's no t-shirt keeping these - she looked down at her boobs - from this - she grazed the tips of her fingers over my face.

I didn't need to say anything. She felt my answer between her legs, a tensing that told her everything.

Okay, she said with real sweetness. As if what she had in mind was as pure as asking me to go to prom. Just give me a moment. She slipped off the side of the bed, adjusting her dress back to how it was when we had met tonight as she went.

She moved the candles to either side of the bed and bent down to turn off the fairy lights. I couldn't help noticing how the dress stretched as she bent, her ass filling it. She caught me staring, needy. My ass? I'll remember that, she said. My face flushed.

She looked round the room as if to say, is everything in the right place? Are the conditions perfect? She seemed to decide they were.

So she went to the dresser across from the foot of her bed. She looked over her fragrances, lifting them to her nose for inspection. I could hear the clinking of little bottles touching each other. She picked one out, came to the side of the bed, held it in front of my face and asked, what do you think of this?

I leaned forward and inhaled. It smelled how she did on our first date. Already our time together was full of memories and nostalgia. The fragrance was familiar and it was her. It smelled of her. I still remember it even now. I looked up at her, nodded, said it was my favourite.

Mine too, she said.

She went back to the dresser and stood in front of a little mirror. Paused for a second, before turning to look at me over her shoulder with a romantic smile, and she lowered the sleeves of her dress down her shoulders, down her arms, over her boobs, to hang at her waist.

I wanted to run to her and pull her to me, to feel her against me, on top of me. All I could see was her back and the way her hair cascaded down it, and the way the dress now bunched just above her hips.

It was then she sprayed the fragrance, just lightly, on her chest and between her boobs.

It was then she turned her body.

It was then I saw her for the first time. But what I saw first was her smile, of sexiness, of pride, of certainty. She told me later she hadn't been worried anymore. She knew I'd like them. She smiled as if to say, these are yours. Aren't you lucky? Then I saw them. And how I'd spent six months imagining. I'd had them lightly against my body as we lay together in bed. I'd seen them in a corset and in tonight's dress. I'd had them smother me, without knowing what they looked like. Without really feeling them.

Now I knew, and I could never have imagined how perfect they were. They were womanly. Soft. Unforgettable. Oh so big. She stood with her back straight and proud. They were now my everything. I saw they glistened as her perfume settled across the top of their curves.

She didn't crawl this time. Instead she stepped on to the bed, and my eyes traced her, from her toes to where the dress began, to where it widened round her ass, to where it bunched, to her naked boobs looking down at me, to her eyes looking down at me, beneath her.

Her feet either side of my waist, she lowered, and lowered, until her smooth dress met my nakedness. She sat upright, astride me, inviting me to savour her. We looked at each other, electricity between us, unblinking.

Do you like them? she said.

I love them. I need them.

Well since you're a good boy, you're going to get them.

Six months ago, on our first date, I'd hoped we'd be here, together, half a year later. I just hadn't imagined it'd be like this.

Last time, she said, I said I'd stop smothering you when you came. Don't cum, baby. Let me smother you as long as I like. I'll tell you when to cum.

Deal, I said. She laughed. Deal.

The flickering candles made our bodies look like they were on fire. The rest of the room disappeared. It was just me, lying here, with Tee, on top of me, shadows dancing over her body, her curvaceous body. The flames reflected the perfume as it settled on the curve of her boobs.

She shuffled her legs forward a little, up my body. Placed her hands on my chest to help. Pressed down harder than she needed to as a reminder who's in charge. Her face was above me, smiling down at me.

Ready?

Ready.

Deep breath.

With that, she slowly leaned forward, and the room went dark as her boobs came down on my face. She hovered, letting the fullness of them slowly settle on my cheeks and my mouth for a second - she later told me she hesitated whether to bring her full weight down on me, for a moment - before deciding I deserved all of her.

Her body lay on mine, and her boobs enveloped my face.

I pictured us, like I always do. Her legs either side of me, straddling. Her dress bunched just above her hips, her hips I'm sure she wanted me to notice tonight, and the curve of her ass as she bent over on top of me. Her deep smile of satisfaction with me under her.

My face trapped beneath her and the boobs I had never stopped thinking about.

My cheeks warmed against them, stuck to them. My nose pinched between them. My mouth, helplessly, tried to kiss them. All the while, my arms held her to me, me to her. We had never been closer.

My breath! My breath! I began to wriggle free, and--

No, she said with a giggle, using her weight. Not yet.

So I surrendered and felt every part of what was happening to me. Felt her soft skin pressed so firmly against my nose, eyes, mouth, felt her boobs curve round the shape of my face. Felt her wrap her arms under my pillow to keep me in place. I felt myself drop and drop.

She lifted, slowly. My cheeks stuck to her boobs for a second as we separated. I'd gone red. I breathed, gasped deep. My lungs filled with that romantic fragrance. My face was covered in it.

Not a second or two later, she smiled, said that's all you get, before lowering again. And I was back in, back where I belonged. Complete darkness. She reached a hand down between my legs and gasped at how hard I was.

You filthy boy. You better not cum.

But, as she smothered me with everything she had, it was hard. Her boobs pressed firmly down on my face, unmoving. My head, stuck between them, was helpless. She squeezed her boobs together with her hands, blanketing me. I was pathetic beneath her. She moaned as she let her weight relax on top of me, as if forgetting I was there, as if my face existed only for her boobs to come down upon.

I hardened with panic when I needed breath again. Tee felt it. So she stayed a little longer. I felt her brace for my struggle. My legs kicked. She found it hilarious. A moment or two later, she gave me air. The fragrance returned. She looked at me, took me in. I was completely hers and she knew it. So she said nothing, and forced her boobs back on my face, and they became my world again.

Don't cum, she said, feeling my hardness, my wetness. I wanted to. I wanted her to finish me off.

But I also wanted her to stay on me forever. I never wanted her boobs to free my face, I never wanted their softness to separate from my cheeks and my nose and my mouth and my eyes. They were everything. Please let me stay here.

Then she gripped me between my legs. Tight like she had last time, as if she had always known how to. And she moved slowly, slowly, slowly. Up and down. I needed air and I needed her to give it to me, to not give it to me.

I needed her to smother me forever.

Her hand, wet with my wetness, glided up the length of me, down the length of me, as I tensed, and tensed--

As she pressed her boobs into my face, as she pressed--

Don't cum, she said.

As I tensed, and squirmed, and tightened, and tried to find air. As she pushed her body on to me fully.

Don't cum, she said.

And when I had to, needed to breathe, she let me go. But I needed her back on my face. My submissive eyes called for her. Pleaded.

Through gasps, I said, please.

She later told me I'd never been so adorable, so she couldn't help but oblige.

This time, as she smothered me with everything she had, she said cum for me baby, and I did, immediately. I moaned deep into her boobs. She refused to move as my body writhed in euphoria beneath her. She stayed until my point of desperation.

When she lifted herself off of my face, my irrational first thought was of the dress, which I had surely ruined. She looked at it. I think it's only fair I get you back for this next time, right?

I'll tell you about it sometime. But for the rest of that night, we lay beside each other. I never got dressed, she never took the dress off or pulled it back up. She rested my head on her boobs, stroked my hair, and the whole evening had been deeply romantic to us both. The candles flickered over our faces as we fell in and out of sleep. We'd awaken and adjust ourselves, stay tangled and close. We stayed that way until the sun came up. I still remember the fragrance.