My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 04

"Adrianne, can you recommend a therapist for me?"

"Finally going to try a little anger management?"

"No, I still prefer my anger unmanaged. I mean for her."

"For her?"

"Yeah. I know there's been issues throughout her adolescence, so it might just be good for her. But I mainly want someone she can go to if I'm trampling on her. She's so shy that she can't even keep eye contact with me, let alone quarrel. I don't think she has any close friends and she's still not ready to even meet all you guys yet."

"Alright. There's hundreds of therapists in Seattle. It'd probably be good to choose one who specializes in couple's counseling, and maybe social anxiety if she's as deeply shy as you think. Do you know if she has any demographic preferences? Male, female, age...?"

"This may sound weird, but do you know any who are into RPGs or like SciFi...stuff?"

"I can ask. You know hobby compatibility's not usually considered important when choosing a therapist?"

"I know. She's so enthralled with them though. It's the only topic where she'll talk on without stuttering her words or hesitating for my opinion. And you should see how elaborately organized her books and DVDs are. I think she might have an easier time opening up if she can talk nerd for awhile first."

Adrianne frowned ever so slightly and a subtle change came over her, like the difference between talking about a law and giving legal advice.

"Does she have anything else organized to a great extent?"

"Her clothes. By color and then darkness. But I don't think she's OCD or anything. Her silverware is just all thrown in a drawer and I don't think she makes her bed at all."

"Is she physically awkward at all? Difficulty manipulating objects or a tendency to trip, knock things over, or spill? Or demonstrate any odd, repetitive physical movements?"

"She rocks back and forth sometimes when she's nervous and she has trouble with chopsticks. I've seen her spill. She's just klutzy though. That doesn't make her mentally incompetent."

"No. Is Jenny very literal or does she have trouble using or understanding metaphor?"

"Maybe, but she's very well spoken in any case. Aside from stuttering sometimes. So she doesn't always understand exactly what's meant? Big fucking deal."

"Does she ever seem fixated on what most people would evaluate as a minor problem?"

"Yes," I answered cautiously, no longer glib.

"Kay, I think maybe you should sit." She motioned me to an armchair.

I wanted to tell her to fuck off. That psychiatry was a bullshit way to leech money out of sad people who didn't like themselves. That she's fucking scum with less credibility and bearing than the greeting card industry. And I wanted to beg her to please, please not tell me what I didn't want to know.

But I sat frozen in my Corinthian leather armchair, helpless. My hands clenched and unclenched into fists impotently. Rage, fear, and grief are all useless reactionary emotions in the face of Adrianne's professional ethos. I shook my head unknowingly, involuntarily predisposed to deny whatever truth she gave me.

Tim McGraw's "Don't Take the Girl" strained through from the balcony.

"Kay," Adrianne's hand rested lightly on my shoulder, "this is not a diagnosis. Just looking at circumstantial evidence observed over a few days, it sounds like Jenny might have Asperger Syndrome. It's a pervasive development disorder associated with the autism-"

"She's fucking not," Adrianne's one of my dearest friends and a credit to her field. Despite the discipline I'd developed to combat sentimentalism, I responded to her in unintelligent anger. I felt it, I knew it, and I allowed it. "That's bullshit! Whatever the PC term for retarded is right now, she's fucking not. She's smart damnit. She's better at statistics than I am! She's smart, Adrianne, *sob* she's smart."

Adrianne wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pacified me as my childish behavior warranted. She's an excellent shrink with a very high interpersonal intelligence, and so she understood why I was so upset before I did.

"You haven't exploited her, Kay." Adrianne reassured me gently, "It's possible that she felt a greater level of appreciativeness and attraction because you showed kindness, but she's not incapacitated. If she gave consent, that's the same as any other capable 20 year old adult giving consent. You don't need to feel guilty."

Adrianne waited until I found my pride and quit my sobbing.

"If anything, people with Asperger's tend to have higher than average test scores in math and hard sciences, just difficulty engaging in standard communication and behavior. It's like being color blind or having hearing damage, they just have difficulty perceiving and assimilating things that most people take for granted. It frequently goes undiagnosed, especially if not considered until the adulthood of a 'quirky' - but fully functional - member of society. The bigger concerns are comorbidities like depression or anxiety."

It was a lot to take in at once. Adrianne answered the only important question, but raised several more. There would need to be research, expected value calculations, and optional courses of action. For that moment though...

"How do I help her, Adrianne?"

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I regretted asking my girlfriend if I was a submissive before the words left my mouth. What she calls the "imp of the perverse" made me ask. Her immediate embrace heartened me. Her hesitation to answer didn't. She isn't hesitant.

"I'm very drunk and I may not phrase this the way I want... I love you, Kitten... You are certainly the adjective. That you are submissive is self-evident. I love you for that whole gentleness about every aspect of you... You may be the noun. I don't know if I like admitting that. What rubric?... I think that we should talk about with Dr. Caldwell on tomorrow, maybe?"

She's reeeeeally drunk and just came twice. It's not fair for me to ask for a better answer. I couldn't get a more supportive one.

"Okay, Baby. I love you, too." She falls asleep. I watch her regularly breathe until I fall asleep too.

She's gone for work when I wake at around 10am. I shower, etc. My girlfriend calls at around 11:30. Then I wait for Nic's knock.

She dresses like the prettiest boy in the world. Not manly, just wearing boy clothes. It's sexy, but weird.

"Hi Hon, I brought buffalo chicken and potato wedges." We sit to eat, "So what did you and Kay get up to last night?"

I tell her everything. Nic has become a close friend and Kay says that she's our "relationship sponsor" so I can tell her anything. She laughed at "Fuck-a-Bunny" with me for about ten minutes. The submissive thing didn't make her laugh.

"Hey, no. I blasted Teeg because she talked like you were a seeing-eye dog that Kay'd gotten to perform a service and also happened to appreciate for its companionship. There's nothing wrong with being submissive or being a submissive. That's Melody's soapbox, but she deals with domestic violence every day so she's hypersensitive to potential victimization. But put that out of your head for right now. What's this fantasy you need help with?"

I stuttered some telling Nic all about what had happened. I dork-out completely when I try to tell her what I want to happen.

"I, I saw Teeg's video, and I, I...I want to, to try, to try being tied. For my girlfriend."

"You'd like me to tie you to the bed as a surprise for Kay? Something like that?"

I shook my head yes.

"Have you ever done bondage before?"

I shook my head no.

"Okay, Sweetie, you're real cute, but I am starting to feel like I'm talking to Lassie. Do you watch 'Big Band Theory' at all?"

"I love 'Big Bang Theory'!" I really do.

"Hon, we're going to text just like Raj and that girl from Garfunkel and Oates, okay?"

"Yes!" Nic is so nice.

"Do u know how u want 2 b tied up?"

"To the bed?"

"Position?"

"On my back, spread-eagle?"

"Where did u learn spread-eagle?"

"Originally in 'The Lost World' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but from her more."

"Lol" (Gratuitous. I can observe her laughing out loud.) "Kay talked bondage 2 u? Guidelines?"

"No clamps, hoods, gags, or hot liquids, but 'blindfolded and tied up with scarves...[is] okay.'"

"K. Basic safety, scarves can tighten n cut circulation if tied wrong. I know more safety than knots, cuz I never the 1 tying ;)"

She puts her phone down.

"I'll put cuffs on your wrists and ankles, then tie them to the bed with scarves and blindfold you with a scarf. That will be really safe and I'll leave enough give so you can untie yourself over time if you get scared. Okay?"

"Uh, yes. But I don't know if we have that many of...those things?"

"Sweetie, look around. Do you see how every chair back, sofa arm, and horizontal surface is six or so inches lower than Kay's waist? How ridiculously reinforced the ceiling fixtures are? The soft, thick, washable rug about the size of a twin bed that lies on the kitchen floor for no apparent reason? Kay designed this house. Kay likes sex and preparedness. She'll have enough cuffs in her toybox. C'mon."

She leads me to the bed and tells me to get undressed and lie under the covers. She goes into the closet for four sets of lined cuffs with keys and five scarves. She uses them to tie me as we agreed, then blindfolds me with the last one.

"Hon, it's still only 3pm. Kay won't be back for hours, so we'll do a test run and make sure you hold up okay for an hour in that position. I'll be back to check on you in 15 minutes, but I'm just in the next room if you need anything."

After about two minutes (I guess), I realize that I haven't leveled up our characters for the D&D session tonight. I do it in my head in the next minute or so. Only 57 minutes to go...huh.

I'll tell you about the first time she took me to D&D.

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My girlfriend brought me a stuffed Kyo cat when she picked me up from work, which was super sweet. I gave her a giant hug and she whispered to me.

"It seemed appropriate. Every time you hug me, I turn into a great big ginger pussycat." I didn't correct her that Sohmas only take their zodiac form when sick, tired, or hugged by a member of the opposite sex. (It was just too sweet.)

I put Kyo in my backpack with the D&D gear and she drove us to a Red Mill Burgers for dinner before we went on to the D&D session. She ordered us bleu cheese and bacon burgers, fries, and Mandarin chocolate malts. I hadn't bothered with breakfast or lunch, so I inhaled mine.

Something bothered me though. She wasn't touching me. She hadn't kissed me all day. My girlfriend spoke as we ate.

"We are moving very fast." My heart stopped for a second until her next sentence. "I like that, but it can be scary. You may need someone unbiased and knowledgeable to talk to, especially if we keep this pace. My friend recommended Dr. Caldwell, who's also a gamer. You two can spend 45 minutes a week talking about RPGs. Or any concerns you may have. Or I can come with you when you two want. So long as you have an outlet, okay?"

I nodded and chewed. It seemed like a good idea.

"I'd also like you to sleep over at my house a few times, and consider moving in with me if you lik-"

"I'd love to move in with you!" I was in her lap with my arms around her neck before I'd realized I'd moved.

She leaned in close to my ear and meowed. We both cracked up and the rest of the meal passed lightheartedly.

D&D night always animates me, but walking in with her was better. I got to feel like I belonged to someone in front of people I know. Even our characters worked together. I finally had a tank for my swashbuckler to flank with...[Several pages removed for reader benefit – yw, Nic]...with the Oni Mage and all its ogres dead, we split the loot.

We said bye to everyone and she was specifically invited back by our Dungeon Master. I was super elated. I wanted to dance around shouting, "that's my girlfriend!"

At her car, she stopped me.

"Kitten, do you want to start our sleepovers at my house tonight?"

I smiled up at her and nodded.

She kissed me. Not in a sweet way. In an "I want you now" way.

"First thing's first, Hotness. The Tennis Club's only a few miles north of here and closed. Get in." She opened my door and tapped my bottom.

We were blocked in by other cars. She cursed when she realized, but then shrugged and turned to kiss me more. (I hadn't been thinking of sex that night, but it's hard to think of anything else once she's up for it.) Her hand caressed my tummy under my shirt. And moved down.

I broke the kiss and looked around frantically. She swallowed a laugh.

"Beautiful, the windows are tinted, it's dark, and we're parked directly in front of a garage door. It's possible that someone might notice us necking. No one will be able to see where my hands are, Shy Girl."

I started to apologize for being silly, but her kiss interrupted. Her hand drove into my pants and panties. She brushed through my pubes and whispered "soft" into our kiss. The kiss itself became hard and fast. I lost my breath and had to break again.

The cars had cleared, so she dropped the top and backed out. I guessed that she was driving to the club she mentioned. It was starting to sound like an okay idea.

In a few minutes, we pulled up to a security gate. She keyed in a code that took us into a deserted, dark parking lot surrounded by tall evergreens. I could hear the surf nearby. I got peaks of the tennis courts through the trees. She came to a stop in a two-lane corridor of Pacific Silver Fir leading to a rotary at the main clubhouse entrance.

"Sexy, we're covered from above and on all sides. No one can see or hear us. Only about 50 people in the world have the code and none of them have a motive to be here at midnight. Complete privacy."

~~~It felt so sexy and naughty to be outside in her gleaming black-on-black convertible under a canopy of trees with only the light from the moon and stars filtering through. And with her.

I surprised her by lunging over to her side of the car to slide my tongue into her mouth and my hand into her jeans for once. My tongue was welcomed, but I couldn't get my fingers between her and her tight Calvin's. She snickered and popped open her fly for me.

I very seriously reached a finger under her panties, through her bush, and into her snatch. Then withdrew it to see her wetness glisten in the moonlight and cool in the coastal night breeze. I coyly sucked my finger at her.

For someone who likes dishing out teasing, my girlfriend doesn't stomach it well.

"Naked and kneeling in the backseat." (The "now" was implied.)

I climbed into the backseat. She reclined the passenger side all the way back and unlocked the glove box for some things. I thought I'd lost my clothes remarkably quickly, but I felt her strapon behind me the moment I knelt.

She rested her chin on my shoulder. Her knees spread mine. Her breasts, hips, and abs pressed into me. One arm snaked around my shoulders, just below her chin. The other crossed one of my hips to claim my pussy.

"I am going to fuck you." Her fingertips played knick-knack paddywhack on my clit. "Any objections?"

I shook my head. Her fingers curved into a hook and lifted me a couple centimeters from the inside. She dropped me back instantly, but it was...jolting.

"Any objections?" She repeated, quietly.

"Nu-none." I was far from objecting.

"Feel." She brought both my hands behind my back and placed them on her strapon. It wasn't the Flurry. It wasn't the Mr. Johnson either, but it was certainly bigger than the Flurry. She continued in a controlled whisper, "I'm going to stretch my girlfriend to suit me. Understand?"

"Yesss," I hissed, wanting it.

"Bend." She pinned my hands crossed at the small of my back with her left hand. Her right hand replaced her chin at the base of my neck. She pushed me firmly down onto the reclined passenger seat backrest.

My bottom was well above my shoulders. My back was deeply arched. But my head, neck, and shoulders were aligned and supported by the padded black leather backrest of the passenger seat.

Even with my head partially turned, all I could see was black leather upholstery. I smelled the soft leather, earthy trees, salty ocean, and our arousal. The thudding of my heart in my ears overwhelmed my hearing of anything else but her commands.

"Stay put." Her hand left the back of my neck while she mounted me. I groaned as her new strapon invaded me slowly. It stretched me slightly, (as she'd promised) but not painfully. I felt so solidly full.

She remained unmoving in me. Her right hand returned to my upper back with the thumb on the back of my neck and the fingers to my collarbone.

She dominated me in that position. She had made me vulnerable and overpowered. I felt conquered and loved. Then the pummeling started, and I mostly felt her strapon. It felt good.

She hammered into me, sliding through my liquid fire and nailing to my cervix with every blow. An outpouring of sexy, dirty talk came from above me. (It was heavily weighted with first person singular possessive pronouns and adjectives.)

Soon the combination of her provoking words, violent thrusts, and governing posture had me cumming with such sudden intensity that it brought silent tears along with loud moans. My body collapsed, spent.

But she hadn't finished taking her pleasure from me yet.

My girlfriend remained motionless through the throes of my orgasm. Then she released my arms to fall limply at my sides. My spirit was willing and the sensations were breathtaking, but I lacked the energy to move my arms toward my head. I couldn't have supported my own weight with my knees to save my life.

Her hands grasped my hips, fingers dug in, and continued her onslaught with renewed fervor. My exhaustion at her hands excited her. Her pace quickened and stabilized into a marathon of strokes. I lay in bliss, unable to do anything but moan, sigh, and whimper with the pleasure.

After awhile, I heard her say "...my pretty little helpless doll," as her thumb squeezed between my cheeks to tease my rosebud. As she started to press for entrance, I yelped.

"Please don't?!" Her thumb was gone before my next heartbeat, "I, you can still, I'm sorry."

Like a light switch had turned her off, she stopped her thrusts entirely and pulled out of me. Her strapon lay against the length of my thigh and her lips brushed my ear.

"It's okay, Angel. I don't need to take your ass. I love you." She popped the seat up and rolled me onto my back.

She was still kneeling over my body. I gazed up at her. Her fingernails traced the tear trails on my face. She removed the strapon and harness.

My girlfriend covered my naked body with hers. Butterfly kisses covered my face and neck. Sweet whispers of love and charm filled my ears. The back of her hand pushed rhythmically against my mound as she masturbated herself to a mellow orgasm atop me. At her gentle growls of completion, I cried beneath her again. I was fulfilled, loved, and happy.~~~

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My personal phone buzzes while I pour over Excel sheets in my office. Grateful to Nic for the distraction, I open her picture text to see my girlfriend tied to my bed with a scarf covering her eyes and my bedspread covering her body. The caption reads, "U should cum home!"

I save the files, logout, and wave bye to Sherry.

Mr. Henriksen accosts me as he exits the elevator on our floor, returning from lunch.

"O'Brien? You're leaving early again today?"

I hold the picture up in front of him.

"That's the cute blonde from the office party last month?"

"Yes, sir." I'm just beamin'.

"Go!" He hits the down button for me.