Short Story: Desired or Treasured?

Female's Point of View - Hypnosis

​Hearing him get out of his morning shower and coming down the stairs didn’t always prompt me to tie up my hair, but now it does. It does because I know his morning routine includes a hearty breakfast, a hot cup of coffee and my lips wrapped around his cock.

And I certainly don’t want my wild main in the way as I tenderly worship his godly shaft.

As I kneel under the table and free his instrument, I find myself musing about the past and how this very scene would have sent me running to the hills. I almost giggle as I remember how silly I was. How could I have been so wrong?

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Before, I used my body to seduce. To entice... To control... I had never met a man that made me think otherwise. To me, giving my man oral pleasure wasn’t meant to be foreplay or exciting. It was a reward.

Sex? HA!

I knew how much the men around me wanted my body and it was so easy to manipulate them into doing all sorts of things for me. Just for a chance... A glimpse... A hope... 

My body was my temple and my lovers definitely needed to earn the right to it. Until I met HIM.

I was attracted to his confidence and his stature. Unlike my other conquest, he never begged or drooled over my curves. Instead, he praised it in a way that made my own blood boil. He wasn’t so obvious about it, but I could always tell. A lingering eye here... A slow caress there... His low voice when he talked me to sleep in his bed...

It was refreshing in a way. I didn’t feel desired, I felt treasured...

Every night I spent over at his place made me feel incredible. Our sex life grew slowly in time with my appreciation of him. Every morning I awoke in his arms, I felt more and more at peace. I went home with new desires and thoughts on how I viewed our relationship.

His confidence and silent authority became a beacon I couldn’t ignore. My desire to reward my man slowly changed into a feeling of pleasure. Before I knew it, I found myself wanting to please him.

Worship him...

Not because I thought it was what I needed to do to keep him in my thrall. No... I wanted to please him because I wanted him to feel just how incredible he was making me feel.

Oh the evenings his tongue hungrily explored my folds... The nights his manly tool pumped pure ecstasy into my veins... The slumber his voice guided me towards...

Every time I left his home, I felt at peace, yet sad. I grew to cherish his mere presence. His touch... His voice...
Every time I felt his desire for me, I couldn’t help but feel my own ignite to match. As if his sexual fire could always make mine erupt into a delicious inferno. Before long... All it took was a look...

And I would be as wet as my horny college days, surrounded by eager football players. Not a real man among them...

I live with him now, which doesn’t help my libido, but it did give me a sense of security I had never knew I needed. His authority and confidence makes it clear, every day, that I’m HIS. His eyes claim me... Every day... His hands grab my ass in a way that makes me understand he owns it. Every day... His lips kiss me so softly that I melt into their tender guidance.

Every day...

His voice holds so many truths that I’m barely able to listen and understand everything he tells me when we slowly slip into an exhausted slumber... Cuddled in his bed...

The only thing I understand is that I’ve found myself a man. A REAL man that proved himself worthy in ways I can’t explain. With him, I feel small in ways that make me drip. Yet... I also feel elevated... 

Treasured...

I don’t feel like some sex object he wants to own and fuck. Even if I’ll admit that we both act like I am. No... I feel like I’m his most precious possession. Something he cherishes above all else as his low voice whispers his deepest desires into my sleepy mind...

Which only makes me want to worship him even more.