THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER-1: I BECOME A SLAVE

Most of my stories are like couples porn, but not this one. It involves many of the darkest sexual acts as a submissive older man and dominant younger woman find their way to love.


“Confusing, isn’t it?” I had just entered the market and turned into the produce area. I saw a twenty-something woman checking out the pineapples. She seemed to be fairly tall, but it could have just been that she was slender. Her jeans were tight around her hips and her ass was firm from where I was standing–all in all, a very pleasing sight. She placed one pineapple after another into her cart before returning it to the shelf. I walked up next to her so she could see me—I didn’t want to startle her when I spoke.

She turned, looked at me, and smiled. “Oh, damn!” I exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, when a beautiful young woman like you smiles like that I know you’re thinking I’m old and harmless.”

She checked me out, looking up and down my body before speaking. “Oh, I don’t think you’re so old,” she said kindly.

“Yeah, right, I’m probably old enough to be your grandfather.”

“Maybe,” she said pensively, “but…you’re not. Isn’t that what really counts? And from what I can see of you I doubt you’re even close to harmless. But I do see your wedding ring.”

“Yeah, I just haven’t been able to take it off since….”

“Divorce? I hope it wasn’t too messy.”

“No…lung cancer.”

She quickly brought her hands to her face. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

“No…really…it’s OK. It happened almost nine months ago and she smoked almost a pack a day right until the end. I must have told her 5,000 times….not that it did a bit of good.”

“Still, I’m really sorry. Uh, do you know anything about pineapples? I can’t make up my mind.”

“Actually,” I said immodestly, “you’re talking to the pineapple expert,” as I puffed out my chest. “Let’s see what they have here.” I handled several, discarding them as I explained that green was BAD. When I found a brown one I held it for her to examine.”

“Oh, that one looks good.” I shook my head “NO.”

“Just feel this one…see how soft it is. Unless you eat it in one sitting it’ll be rotten before you know it. It’s much too ripe.” I checked a few others before we chose one I thought would be just right. She put it into the cart. “Now that you have one, do you know what to do with it?” She stood there looking really cute and vulnerable before admitting she had no idea. “OK, do you have a cutting board?”

“Yeah, a wooden one,” She shrunk a bit when I cringed.

“How about a knife? You’ll need a long slicing knife that’s pretty stiff. Have anything like that?” She picked up the pineapple and put it back on the shelf. I returned it to the cart. “Tell you what, if you’ll allow me to treat you to dinner I’ll show you what to do with it and I’ll bring a cutting board and a knife with me. I used to cook a lot and I have plenty, so consider them a gift, OK?”

She said nothing for almost a minute then dug into her purse for a pen and paper. She gave me her address and phone number. “By the way, I’m Sam.”

Taking the paper I asked her, “Seven, OK? By the way, I’m Sam.” It took her a moment to realize I wasn’t teasing her. She began laughing as she pointed to me saying “Sam” and back to herself repeating her name. I soon joined in the laughter as nearby shoppers gave us some really funny looks. We parted after I told her I’d see her tonight.

Chapter 2

I recognized her address as a nearby apartment complex—one of the better ones in town. I ought to know—I designed and built it and I still own it. I climbed out of my BMW M5 convertible just before seven, retrieved a bag from the trunk and walked to her door. I rang her bell at 7:02. When she opened it I couldn’t believe how really striking she was. I thought she was extremely attractive in the market when we met, but she was gorgeous now. Her short light-brown hair framed her face perfectly. He blouse was cut low enough to show some cleavage; she looked like a B or C-cup, not huge but just right for her slender frame. She had excellent posture, something I had always found appealing in a woman.

She invited me in, asking what I had brought in the bag. I walked straight into her kitchen; it was small—a galley (of course I already knew that) that was clean and neat. I pulled out a pack of acrylic cutting boards. They were brand new, still vacuum wrapped in plastic. I also brought out a set of knives. She looked at them with amazement. “Are those…metal?”

“No,” I replied, “they’re ceramic. But, promise me you’ll be very careful with them—they’re extremely sharp.” To demonstrate I pulled a paper towel from the roll as I picked up a slicer. “This is too thin to work well on a pineapple, but this is just a demonstration.” I held the paper up and dropped it. By the time it had fallen a foot I had cut it into four pieces.

“Wow!” Sam exclaimed.

We talked briefly about where to eat and settled on a small Italian restaurant a few miles out of town. Once we were seated we made small talk. I learned she was a physician’s assistant specializing in orthopedics; she was shocked to learn that I had designed, built, and owned her apartment complex. Too soon dinner was over and I drove her back to her home. I walked into her kitchen, washed my hands and placed the pineapple on its side on the cutting board. I selected a chef’s knife and showed her how to cut the top and bottom—roughly an inch off of each end. Next I stood the pineapple up and sliced off the remaining skin, or rind. The rest was easy, discarding the hard inedible core, I cut dozens of small chunks. I picked one up intending to place it into her hand, but she had a different idea. She took my hand gently as she led it to her mouth. She put my fingers into her mouth as she licked and sucked them clean, locking her eyes on mine the entire time. I was amazed; it was the most sensual thing I had ever experienced. At least, that’s what I thought until she brought a small chunk to my mouth. I couldn’t help myself—I sucked those fingers and would have kept it up had she not pulled me out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

We stood at the edge staring into each other’s eyes. I broke the silence, “Uh, you know, I haven’t done anything like this for more than forty years.”

“That’s OK, I have, so why don’t you let me lead?” She reached up to hold my head as she pulled me down for our first kiss. I ran my hands up her back as I held her so very close. Her lips were soft and delicious. They parted to let my tongue intrude. Our tongues danced together as our passion built. It became intense, so intense that it seemed we were trying to pull the two of us into a single being. In time she broke the kiss, “Wow, you are definitely not harmless.”

I laughed and soon she joined me before getting back to business. She pulled my shirt over my head before working on my belt. My pants fell to my ankles and when they did she hooked her thumbs inside my boxers, pulling them also to the floor. I never thought my cock was especially long, but it is thick—disproportionately thick. It’s about seven inches long but more than two inches in diameter. Sam took one look at it, returned her eyes to mine and commented, “I can see you’re definitely not harmless. You could do a lot of damage with that thing, but what fun it would be.” She came back for another long hot kiss as she tightly gripped my cock, slowly stroking it. When she broke it, she whispered, “Your turn; start with my skirt.”

I’ve always been good at following directions. I unbuttoned and unzipped the skirt, helping her to step out of it before carefully laying it on a chair. Turning back to her I placed my hands on the hem of her blouse and slowly lifted it over her head. That, too, I placed on the chair. Reaching behind her I unfastened her bra, exposing her lovely breasts. I cupped them in my hands, savoring their smooth firmness.