One night, Alison asked me, “What would you say if I brought home a boyfriend again?” The question came out of nowhere, just as we were finishing up dinner on our balcony. I’d grilled the steaks to a turn, and they went perfectly with the bottle of wine we’d picked up on our last trip to the local vineyard. At the moment, I didn’t feel much like moving, let alone asking questions. But I replied, “What do you mean by ‘boyfriend?’”

“You know. A guy. For me to fuck.”

I swirled the wine in my glass and couldn’t suppress my smile as I said, “For me to watch fucking you, you mean.”

Alison shrugged and replied, “Whatever.”

She’s 24 but looks younger with jet black hair that hangs down to her butt and a fondness for silvery goth jewelry. She calls herself a lifestyle submissive, and I guess she is. She’s gone to bed often enough with her ass aching, I’ll tell you that much.

Alison has a thing for young, muscular guys with hard dicks that fit nicely inside her. She likes living with me partly because my place is nicer than anything she could afford herself. She also likes having a place to entertain her boytoys — and an audience for said entertainment. She told me once just knowing I’m watching makes her come.

I like it myself, for that matter. There’s something about watching my sweet Alison getting spread out like butter on the mattress and crying out as her pussy is pounded. We’ve done it twice so far, and both times I liked it just fine.

“So bring him.”

“You can’t watch this time.” She lifted a bare foot up onto her knee and sat idly picking at her toenails. She sounded sullen and serious, all at the same time.

I began gathering up the dinner dishes as I said, “Oh, I’ll be watching. But he won’t see me. Don’t worry.”

“No, I mean… it’s different this time. I’ll be topping him. I’ll be fucking him.”

“Sure you will,” I scoffed.

She gave me a funny look — half scornful, half amused — as she told me, “You’ll see. I’ll be giving it to him good. It might make you… uncomfortable.”

I laughed but told her, “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Her date was set for the following week. I went through the living room carefully, making sure there were no signs that anyone besides Alison lived in the house. It probably wasn’t necessary, but some people get nosy when they go home with a lady. They see a couple of butts in the ashtray when they know the girl doesn’t smoke, and suddenly the mood is broken. I didn’t want that. I wanted Alison to seal the deal and get down to business as quickly as possible.

There was a door in the living room that connected to my den. Very convenient for this kind of thing. I sat down at my desk with a glass of scotch and worked on my laptop until I heard a car drive up and park in front of the house. Then I logged off and moved quietly to the adjoining door, which I’d left slightly ajar. I sipped my scotch and waited.

A moment later, Alison and her gentleman friend entered the room, like two actors in a play. My attention fixed immediately on the guy. He was about Alison’s age, nice-looking, with tattered jeans and bulging muscles under a snug flannel shirt. Just the type Alison liked. He didn’t look like he came from money, not to put too fine a point on it. She didn’t like sophisticated playmates; they tended to be harder to manipulate.

I watched Country Boy looking around the room. He seemed impressed by the luxe surroundings. Alison went to my liquor cabinet and poured a couple of drinks, and she glanced over to where I stood hiding, catching my eye. I knew she could see me, and I nodded to her, gesturing with my glass.

Get on with it, I was telling her.

Pretty soon they were both seated on the big leather sofa, sipping their drinks. Country Boy reached up and touched her hair — shyly, like he would have run away bawling at the first sign she was displeased. She grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles, murmuring softly to him.

Shy he might have been, but Country Boy was definitely up for a roll in the hay with my lady. He took her clumsily in his arms, and the two of them started going at it hot and heavy. I could hear their lips smacking from where I stood.

No question, it got me riled. In my mind, I easily slipped into Country Boy’s place, feeling Alison’s silky black hair slipping through my fingers, smelling her perfume, feeling those plump boobs of hers pressing against me as we went at it. My dick got harder and harder, and when Alison slipped a hand between Country Boy’s legs, it was like I could feel her squeezing my own bulging crotch.

“Go on, go on,” I whispered softly, rubbing my erection through my clothes as they continued to kiss and grope one another. I wanted Alison to yield, recline on the couch so Country Boy could fumble open her shorts. The intoxicating scent of her wet pussy would fill the air and I — that is, he — would impatiently tear his jeans open to let his rigid cock pop out.

And she did yield… sort of. Her back relaxed against the couch cushions and Country Boy climbed carefully atop her. So far, so good. Then Alison’s sleekly muscled legs raised up and locked around his waist, pulling him down onto her. Suddenly, she seemed a lot less passive. She was a wildcat, ready to dish out as much as she took. Certainly, she was in control of the situation.

Watching the scene didn’t exactly make me uncomfortable, but I have to admit it did make me oddly… antsy, I guess you could say. My hand kept working away at my bulge, and after a while, I went ahead and unzipped myself, so I guess I wasn’t all that uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Alison squirmed her way around on the couch. She had been keeping her legs up the whole time, but then began working to maneuver Country Boy beneath her. He was taken aback, but I could tell he was excited as well. He liked this kind of action, no question about it.

By now, Alison was on top of him for real, holding one shoulder pinned with her hand, while she stroked his cheek with the other. Every minute or so, she looked over in my direction and gave me a subtle wink or a slight smile.

“Take off your pants,” Alison said. She was looking at me, so at first I actually thought she was speaking to me. I didn’t take my pants down, but I started stroking my exposed erection, nice and slow.

“W-what?” Country Boy asked. The situation was moving fast for him, I could tell.

“Take ’em off. Show me your dick.”

When he hesitated, Alison squeezed his chin, hard enough to make him say, “Ow!”

“Do it, go on,” she said, licking her lips.

All this was so out of character that I thought about bursting through the door and demanding Alison tell me what she was doing. But I stayed put. I didn’t want to freak out Country Boy, and I didn’t need a stranger knowing I let my girl entertain fucktoys while I watch.

Country Boy kicked off his shoes. He reached down and unbuckled himself, then he unzipped and wriggled his butt until his jeans and boxers came off. He was panting while he did it, getting visibly sweaty and increasingly excited. His cock was sticking straight up. Alison touched his staff with featherlight fingers, her lips bowing up in a Kewpie-doll smile.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” she whispered. The way she said it made the words sound like as much a threat as a promise.

My hand started speeding up on my meat. Seeing Alison make her metamorphosis into a domme was unnerving, but it was also as hot as hell. But the best was yet to come. I watched as she leaned down and reached under the couch, coming up a second later with something that had been hidden underneath. It was long and thick and black. I think I knew what it was immediately, but I couldn’t quite admit it to myself.

“Wait. What?” Country Boy said when he saw what she was holding. His voice was trembling, but you could hear delight in it, too. He liked the look of the thing, and the thought of what Alison was going to use it for.

She reached for something on the table I hadn’t even thought to notice yet — a tube of lube. A minute later she had squeezed the contents of the tube out onto her hand and was fisting the black thing like it was a big cock.

And really, what is a big ole dildo if not a big ole cock — of a sort, anyway.

A moment later, she was working the toy into her date’s ass with slow, sure movements of her hand. It seemed as if she’d done that before with some other guy. I got the impression she was thinking of me with every solid thrust. I swear I could feel those thrusts in my own rear, a sweet itch I couldn’t reach. I swiped my hand back and forth on my dick till it felt raw, but I just couldn’t get enough.

Out in the living room, Country Boy was gasping and cursing and slapping at the couch with both hands. I knew the air over there must have that strange, earthy smell of someone getting ass-fucked. I could hear Alison laughing, too, the giggles of a devious succubus.

I think the whole thing might have been easier for me if Country Boy and I hadn’t shot our loads at almost exactly the same time. His jetted up in the air, so Alison just missed getting hit in the face. My cream squirted onto the floor with a splat, the last of it drooling from my dickhead. I came close to giving myself away. If I hadn’t bit my lip and steadied myself on the doorjamb, Country Boy would have heard me for sure.

There isn’t much to tell after that. Country Boy got himself cleaned up and left, a little sheepishly. Alison just watched him with her arms folded and a wicked smile on her face. When the sound of his car had faded to nothing, she turned to face the door.

“How’d you like that?” she asked. She laughed at my softening cock and the puddle of come I’d left on the floor. I didn’t answer. I was too busy zipping up and hurrying to the bathroom to get myself cleaned up.

But I had a feeling something had changed somewhere. After that day, I knew things were going to be different between me and Mistress Alison.