Some things are better left unsaid
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Because I Said So free porn video
Because I Said So
A woman finds she enjoys taking control of her boyfriend. How far will
she push him?
"Because I said so." I hated it when my mom would say that to me. When
I was a little girl, I remember many times she would tell me to do
something. Wear that pretty dress, go with your Aunt to the mall, come
with me to the beauty parlor. Whatever, it was, I often didn't want to
do it, and I tried to talk my way out of it. My mom sometimes would
humor me and let me argue for a while, laughing at my creativity and
persistence. But when she wanted to end the debate, she simply said,
"You have to do it. Because I said so." And I knew I was beaten then.
There simply isn't a comeback to "because I said so."
So it came as somewhat of a surprise to me when I came to use the phrase
on my boyfriend. And it's more than ironic that I'm using it in some of
the same situations my mother used to. Honey, wear that pretty dress
today. Go with my sister to the mall. Come with me to the hair salon.
But, boy, do I love it when I get to say, "because I said so" and he
obediently follows.
This is the story of how I got there.
Chapter 1 -- Slutty Lipstick
My boyfriend, like most men, loves it when I wear red lipstick. The
redder the better. He didn't understand that it looked slutty. Or,
influenced by typical porn flicks, he liked it because it looked slutty.
I indulged his fantasy in our lovemaking. All over the apartment, I had
numerous red lipsticks laying around. When we started to get horny, I
would reach for a tube of lipstick, paint my lips and invite him to let
me suck him off. We'd get naked and I would plunge my cock-sucking lips
on his penis. He loved it, especially the red marks it left all over
his member when I was finished.
Red lipstick makes a mess everywhere it goes. I would sometimes do the
classic kiss-on-the-cheek bit, leaving a bright red lip print on his
cheek. Sometimes I would kiss his body, leaving big marks all over his
chest or belly. But it always made me laugh when I would kiss him on
the lips with my red lipstick on. He would retract a little, as if he
was afraid of the slight traces it would leave on his lips. Like a
little lipstick would hurt. He can always wipe it off.
It was one of those traces that changed everything. One day, I had
given my boyfriend the hottest blow job he's ever had. It was intense,
and I applied my lipstick several times. We of course got very
passionate, and I did kiss him on the lips a few times. A little while
after he came, he got an erection again. I climbed on top of him to
bring myself to orgasm by riding his penis. When I did, he lay back on
the bed, ready to enjoy it as much as I was going to. It was then that
I noticed the slight traces of lipstick on his lips. I also saw one of
my trusty tubes of lipstick sitting on the nightstand right beside the
bed.
I reached out and picked up the lipstick. Sitting up on top of him, I
seductively rolled the tube open, exposing the phallic red lipstick
inside. Normally, I would paint my lips and start our lovemaking anew.
But this time was different. As I rolled open the lipstick, the thought
hit me. I don't know why, but it did. I pondered my thought for a
brief second, and now I could visualize it. It was so cute, and so hot
to me. So I acted. Instead of painting my lips with the lipstick, I
leaned forward, took my boyfriend's chin in my hand and said, "pucker
up."
"Why?"
The thought in my head really was making me hot. And I guess I became
enthralled by the power of my situation. "Because I said so."
Just like when I was a little girl, that phrase ended it. My boyfriend
didn't respond. He didn't even resist. He simply pursed his lips to
let me apply the lipstick. I spread it on thickly, coating his lips a
bright red.
I rode him to the greatest orgasm I had experienced in our relationship
to date. The whole time I was sitting up and riding him, I was staring
at his red lips. They turned me on so much. I screamed as I orgasmed,
and I noticed that he had come again himself. I guess he liked it too.
When I finished, I leaned down and we kissed a strong, passionate kiss.
His lipstick of course wore off on my lips. As I tasted the distinctive
taste of lipstick, I couldn't help but think, "so that's what it feels
like for him, to have lipstick wear off on you." Nice.
Chapter 2 -- He Falls Deeper Under My Control
After our lovemaking, neither of us said anything about my impulsive
move. We cleaned up (and I washed the lipstick off his lips) and we
went to bed.
The next day, however, I couldn't stop thinking about how I felt.
"Honey," I said to him after dinner, "about last night ..."
"Yeah, you were pretty intense there."
"I hope I didn't embarrass you when I put the lipstick on you. I
suddenly got curious and I tried something different. I was surprised
at how much I enjoyed it. And I think you did too."
It was then that he admitted he felt surprised himself, that he felt a
rush when I took control of him. He said he didn't enjoy the lipstick
per se but being under my control was strangely exciting. I told him I
was enjoying that part too, and that he better watch out because I just
might do it again. To my surprise, he said he would be OK with that
sometime.
Over the next few weeks, our lovemaking was great. I think he wore the
red lipstick almost as much as I did. When he did, I usually would push
him down and get on top. Or I would sit in a chair, like it was a
throne, and order him to smear his pretty lipstick by licking my vagina.
He sometimes resisted (a little), but a simple "because I said so" ended
his feeble protests.
One day, I took it up a notch. If you're going to wear liipstick like a
girl, I told him, you should also wear some lingerie. Just in the
house, I assured him (for now, but he didn't know that yet). I went out
the next day and bought him a bra and garter set -- in red, of course.
I also purchased the stockings and a pair of 4 inch red pumps. The
classic "F-me" kind.
"Go put these on," I ordered. "And put some lipstick on. Then meet me
in the kitchen." When he returned, I climbed on the countertop and told
him to fuck me. The heels were just the right height. He didn't even
notice that I left the blinds open.
From then on, he wore his pretty underthings whenever I felt like it.
Sometimes, I didn't even engage in lovemaking afterward. I just enjoyed
knowing that I had made him wear the clothes.
Each week seemed to bring a new escalation to my dominion over him. The
bra and garter yielded to a red corset. Next came more cosmetics to
make up the rest of his face. Then a little perfume and finally pierced
ears and dangling earrings that made noise when we were thrashing about.
All of this occurred safely in the confines of our apartment. Until,
that is, I got bored.
Chapter 3 -- His Submission is Complete
The final stage started when I got tired of him borrowing my lipstick.
"Honey, everything else you wear is your own -- your lingerie, your
heels, your earrings. But you haven't purchased your own lipstick. I
think it's time."
"But, I can't do that," he protested. "Why don't you just give me one
of your lipsticks as my own?"
"No, those are mine. You will get your own. Because I said so. Now be
good and come with me now, or as punishment I will do your lips the next
time we're in a restaurant." (Immediately, I thought what a thrill that
would be. After dinner is over, I could reach into my purse, and bring
out a red lipstick. I would open it at the table, coat my lips and then
hand it to him just as the waitress was approaching. "Here, baby," I
would say when she was within earshot, "thanks for letting me borrow
your lipstick. You should touch up your lips, too." The look on his
face would be precious. Oh my, just thinking about that possibility
made me wet.)
He looked at his body and then back at me. "But I'm dressed in women's
clothes."
"That's how women purchase lipstick all the time. But, I'll be nice
this one time. You can take off your heels and your earrings. Keep the
corset on and put some male clothes over it. Hurry up! Let's go."
At the store, and seeing that this was his first outing, I took it easy
on him. I led him into the cosmetics section, and picked up shade after
shade. I acted like the purchase was for me (who would think
otherwise?), even testing a few on the back of my hand. I let him play
the bored boyfriend bit, only occasionally asking, "Which one do you
like better?" leaving off the "for you" part. By the time we selected a
color, I was soaking wet and his bulge was showing through his pants.
In addition to the red, we picked a more muted mauve and at the last
minute I grabbed the matching nail polish. Watching his surprised face
wonder what I planned to do with that was such a thrill. You will see,
my baby, I thought -- just wait.
Next, I would set up situations to make him fear public exposure, but
never actually expose him. Once, when my girlfriends were over, I left
his pumps out in the living room. Of course one of them saw it, and
said, "Dang, girl! Those are some high heels! How do you like them?"
I responded, "Oh, I love them." Then I glanced at my boyfriend with a
slight smile, "and I think he gets as much enjoyment out of them, too.
They definitely are "F-me" pumps." He laughed, but I'm sure inside he
was horrified.
Another time I had just purchased new lipsticks at the drug store. One
was a hot pink and the other was a neutral (one that people could barely
tell you were wearing). We got to the car, and I talked him into
wearing one home. That is, if, by "talking into" you mean that I told
him to wear one and then added "because I said so."
The fun was that I made him randomly pick the color he would wear. I
hid one lipstick in each hand and told him to pick a hand. Then, after
I did his lips (and without him being able to see what color it was), I
told him I forgot to get some chewing gum and sent him back into the
store to purchase it. I secretly had made sure he was wearing the
neutral one, but he didn't know that.
Every time I made him do something beyond his comfort zone, I got such a
thrill. The farther beyond his comfort zone, the more I enjoyed it.
So, the natural next step would be to cross that public exposure line.
When the time came, I just annonced it.
"Babe," I said, "It's time for you to show your pretties to the world.
We get you all dressed up here but then we are trapped in the apartment.
It's like we are in prison or something."
"I can't go outside in women's clothes."
"Why, not? You wear them here all the time. It's time to go out."
"But ... I do that for you. I can't go out in woman's clothes. I'll
look stupid. I'll be humiliated."
"So it's just that you don't think you will look good? That's just like
a woman! I'll tell you what: I can call our neighbor over; she will
tell you how pretty you are right now, dressed in women's clothing."
"Nooo. Don't invite her over. What I mean is that everyone will know
I'm a man, and I will be embarrassed."
"Why would you be embarrassed? You are a man. You're just a man who
wears silky and pretty clothing. I don't see why you should be
embarrassed by it. Besides, you know I like it."
"But men don't wear dresses and heels. They don't wear makup and red
lipstick. It's embarrassing!"
"You're being silly. People probably won't even notice. And if they
do, you control whether you are proud to be dressed that way or
embarrassed. It's not a discussion. You're going to go outside in
women's clothing. Because I said so."
After his little protests, I thought about making him go out in a "man
in dress" state as punishment. But I didn't do that. It's about what I
want. And I don't want to humiliate him. I just want to control him.
For a daytime outing, capri pants and a low heel are enough. He can
save the "F-me" pumps for when we go to a club.
So, I plan his first outing as lunch and a matinee movie. I made him
wear a yellow skirt with a white frilly top, wedge sandals and light
makeup. He let his hair (now past his ears) curl at the ends and wore a
wide yellow headband (a girl has to match, I told him). I wore jeans
and a modest top, so as not to draw attention from my baby. Everything
went great. The teenage waitress at the restaurant didn't think
anything of the two women having a lunch together.
Even the movie went just as I planned. We saw a Julia Roberts romantic
comedy. I made him order the tickets, though I took all his cash so he
had to pay with the credit card. If the ticket taker noticed his male
name on the card, he didn't say anything. Finally, when we walked in, I
saw our next door neighbor right where she was supposed to be. My
boyfriend had a complete look of fear on his face, but I didn't pause
and went right to her row, waving hello. I watched with glee as my
boyfried paused, deciding whether to follow, and then quickly walked
with me. At the row, I said hello and took a seat, leaving an open seat
between me and our neighbor. "Sit here, between us," our neighbor said.
"You look great. Where did you get that skirt?" Just like he was one
of the girls.
I couldn't tell you much about the movie. Our row was empty (as was
most of the theater) and after it got dark, my neighbor and I each took
one of my boyfriend's hands and placed it in our laps. He spent the
movie rubbing both of us to multiple orgasms. I knew this was a great
new stage in our relationship. So did he.
Epilogue
Since then, my boyfriend, now my husband, does whatever I tell him.
Right now, it is 4 pm and I just dropped him off at the salon at our
local casino. He's wearing a form fitting fuschia dress that extends
down only to his mid-thigh, large gold hoop earrings, 5" heels and full
makeup. He has the cutest clutch purse with the essentials every girl
needs. He is letting the salon style his shoulder length hair in an up-
do and getting a mani/pedi in a hot pink that matches his dress. When
he is done, he will sit himself at the slot machine right by the door
and play slots while waiting for me to pick him up. Whenever I get
there, of course. I could wait a few hours, to watch him on display for
all the men entering to gamble. However long it takes, I know he will
dutifully be sitting there, legs crossed and carefully taking care not
to damage his nails.
Why will he do this? Because I said so.
Liesl
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