Becca Bellamy
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Good Boy - Part 1
🕑 Added 2024-03-14 04:55:24 +0000 UTCSummer was barely a month old and already Jonathan was attending his third engagement party. His fridge held invites to two upcoming weddings, neither of which he'd managed to secure a date for.
Love was all around, and yet Jonathan remained single. It was the same relationship status he'd held since his fiancée had broken up with him nearly two years prior. They'd had an engagement party a lot like the one Jonathan was currently attending. It was held in a beautiful botanical garden. Flowers were in bloom. Everyone was dressed in bright summery clothes. Champagne was imbibed. Little sandwiches were passed out by the catering staff. Speeches were given.
Two weeks later, Jonathan's fiancée announced that she wasn't actually ready for marriage, that 24 was too young for such a big life decision. Less than nine months later he'd received an invitation to an engagement party for his former fiancée and the man she'd started dating almost immediately after breaking up with Jonathan. She had been ready for marriage. She just hadn't wanted to marry him.
Jonathan had dated in the two years since his engagement ended. He'd dated constantly. Nothing had lasted more than a month, though. It was his own fault. Every time he developed even a hint of feelings for a woman Jonathan would find some sort of fault in her, focus intently on it, and destroy the relationship in one way or another.
He'd been to enough therapy to know that he was fearful of being hurt again, and the best way to prevent being hurt was to refrain from developing a genuine emotional connection to anyone. It felt especially pathetic to know exactly what he was doing and be unable to stop it, but that's the predicament Jonathan found himself in.
"More champagne?"
The man with two glasses of champagne in his hand was Terry, Jonathan's oldest and best friend.
"Sure, why not?" he replied before quickly downing half the glass of expensive, remarkably delicious champagne the happy couple has sprung for as a way of bragging about their overwhelming happiness.
"Whoa, slow down there. Let's not get so drunk that you turn into sad Jonathan, right? There are lots of beautiful single women at this party, but none of them want to fuck sad Jonathan."
Terry was right. The party was loaded with beautiful women and a great many of them were single. Some of Jonathan's other friends had told him as much. To a stranger it would have looked like his friends were eager to help him find love. The truth was, they were sick of him being sad and mopey and they were absolutely sick of him talking about his former fiancée. He was sick of it, too, and yet Jonathan still found himself wallowing in the break up that felt like it had shattered his life.
"I really think you should try and get laid," Terry said. "You're putting way too much pressure on yourself when you date, Jonathan. That's your problem. You don't need all that pressure. No one does. Pull it back. Find a pretty girl. Talk to her. Flirt a little bit. Kiss her if the moment is right. If this absurd celebration of love has her feeling desperate enough there's a chance she'll let you take her home and fuck her. Doesn't that sound like the absolute best thing in the world?"
Jonathan hadn't gone two years without sex. He'd had a fair amount of sex since his fiancée had broken his heart. He enjoyed the sex he had, but it never fully satisfied him because not once had he developed a genuine emotional connection with any of the women he'd fucked in the past two years.
"I'd really like a girlfriend," he said before the hasty drinking of the champagne produced a rather loud burp.
Terry looked around and laughed. "Well, you can forget about dating any of the women that heard that rather wondrous belch. Don't worry about that, though, there are still dozens of single women roaming around the garden just looking for a suitable man. Honestly, if you want a girlfriend this is a better place to find one than any bar or dating app. I'm pretty sure you won't find one just standing around getting drunk on champagne and burping loudly enough to scare the birds, though."
Jonathan took a dainty sip of the champagne and Terry laughed.
"There you go, buddy. Now go talk to some of the single girls here. Don't put any pressure on yourself. Just talk. That's it. Don't think about dating. Don't think about sex. Don't think about anything other than having a halfway decent conversation. See how that goes for you."
Terry clapped him on the shoulder, smiled, and walked away. Jonathan watched his friend walk right up to a beautiful brunette in a tight purple dress and immediately launch into a flirtatious conversation. The women seemed a little put off at first, but Terry's dogged determination to flirt won her over and Jonathan watched her shoulders drop a little as she relaxed into the rhythms of Terry's conversational style.
Despite knowing that he should be doing a little flirting of his own, Jonathan found himself entranced with Terry's skill. After no more than five minutes the brunette in the purple dress was initiating contact as she reached out to rest her hand on Terry's arm after he'd told a joke that elicited a laugh that couldn't possibly have reflected the actual hilarity of whatever he'd said.
A little later, Terry leaned in to say something to the brunette. She leaned a little closer and their cheeks touched as Terry whispered something into her ear. She then brushed her hair behind that ear, looked at him, and smiled in that knowing manner that made Jonathan feel quite confident his friend could take the brunette home if he was so inclined.
"He's very good."
Jonathan nearly spilled his champagne as he jumped in surprise.
"I snuck up on you, didn't I?"
He turned to see a cute blonde standing next to him. She was at least a foot shorter than Jonathan, meaning she had to crane her neck a little to look up at him. She flashed a slightly off-kilter smile and they stared at each other until he realized that he was supposed to say something.
"Yes, you did. Just a bit. That's not a problem, though. It's nice to get a little jolt every now and then. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a jump scare in a good horror movie, right?"
"Ooh, can you imagine a horror movie set at an engagement party? A crazed ex-boyfriend shows up on a mission to take out the bride-to-be, her fiancée, and anyone else that gets in his way? That would be fun," she said with such delight in her eyes and on her face that Jonathan couldn't help but feel more than a little taken with her.
"I can imagine it," he said. "I nearly lived it."
He winced at the sheer stupidity of the words he'd just uttered.
"Sorry. No. That's not true. What a terrible thing to say. I swear, not for a moment did I consider enacting a slasher movie at my ex-fiancée’s engagement party."
The cute blonde studied his face for a moment, smiled, and then leaned in until her shoulder brushed against his arm and said, "C'mon. Be honest. You considered it for a moment, right?"
Jonathan laughed. "Okay, you got me. I had some brief - very brief - revenge fantasies."
She sipped her champagne and he did the same as a bubbly sense of happiness came over him. It seemed like too much to hope for that a girl worth dating would simply walk up to him and introduce herself, and yet it felt like that very thing might have happened.
"How long were you with her?" she asked.
"A year and a half," he answered without hesitation.
"Wow. That's almost three times as long as my longest relationship." She raised her glass of champagne. "So cheers to that. Though of course I'm very sorry it didn't work out."
Jonathan raised his glass and again they each took a sip.
"So what happened?"
He offered a quizzical look.
"Between you and your ex-fiancée. What happened? Did you fuck it up?"
It was a bold, borderline insulting insinuation, and yet Jonathan didn't feel put off by it. There was something about the cute blonde that made it so a question like that wasn't anywhere near as insulting as it could have been.
"Probably," he answered. "She didn't give details, though. She said she wasn't ready for marriage, gave me the ring back, and that was the end of it. It seemed like a good relationship to me, but obviously I was wrong."
"Do you still have the ring?"
He nodded. "I'm not sure why, though. It's not like I could give it to the next girl I want to marry."
"No kidding. That ring is clearly cursed. I mean, you put that on another woman's finger and she too will leave you. Guaranteed."
He couldn't help but laugh and the smile on her face made it seem like that she intended on luring a laugh out of him.
"I'm Bridget, by the way."
"Jonathan."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jonathan."
He nodded and they each raised their glasses and enjoyed yet another sip of flavorful champagne.
"So, did you go to the engagement party?"
"Sorry, what?" he asked.
"The one your ex-fiancée invited you to. Did you go to the engagement party?"
"Oh, right, that engagement party.” He laughed and shook his head. “I wish I was the kind of guy that could have gone to that party and wished her well. I wasn't. I'm still not that kind of guy, I would imagine. I'm pretty sure I would have been furiously angry or annoyingly self-destructive as I obsessed over what her new fiancée possessed that I did not."
She smiled. "You did a little online stalking of him though, didn't you?"
Jonathan looked away as he felt a touch of embarrassment.
"Oh, no, c'mon, you've been so honest with me so far. Don't clam up now. You stalked him a little, didn't you?" She paused for a moment and added, "Wait, you stalked him a lot, didn't you? You went down the rabbit hole. You went way down the rabbit hole and got a little bit lost, didn't you?"
He looked back at Bridget - whose slightly off-kilter smile struck him as utterly charming - and nodded. "You know what it was? I couldn't see a major difference. It's not like he was way better looking or in better shape or half a foot taller or lots more successful. I'm sure he was different in some way, but from the outside it seemed like he was just...well, just like me."
"What an absolute mind fuck," Bridget observed, drawing a loud chuckle from Jonathan.
"Exactly. A massive mind fuck. Enough about me, though. You said you've never been in a relationship longer than six months. What's the deal with that?"
"I'm very picky," Bridget replied without hesitation. "It's proven very difficult to find a man that meets my rather specific standards."
"I'm intrigued. What are these standards?"
She didn't answer.
"Does he need to be tall? Are you looking for a seven footer? Does he need to make a certain amount of money? Must he be a millionaire? Does he need to own a boat? Does he need to have a four bedroom house? Does he need to have a luxury car? Does he need to have a side hustle as a TikTok influencer? Does he need to have a big..."
Bridget laughed. "A big what, Jonathan?"
"Yeah, sorry, I got a little carried away there."
"You were going to say a big cock, weren't you?"
She said it so casually and with such a bright smile that Jonathan was caught off guard. He nodded, though, because that's precisely what he was going to say.
"Some of those things you mentioned are lovely, but none are a necessity," Bridget said.
Jonathan figured she'd follow up with an actual answer to his question, but she remained silent. "So what's the necessity?"
"I want a man with a certain appreciation for women. One who approaches relationships with a very specific mindset. I've come close to finding that kind of man on a few occasions, but they always reveal some sort of shortcoming that makes it nearly impossible to for the relationship to continue."
She was being vague - purposefully so, Jonathan imagined - but that only deepened his curiosity. "Can you shed some light on this mindset you're looking for in a man?"
Bridget looked up at him, smiled, and sipped her champagne in a manner that struck Jonathan as decidedly flirty. "Why? Do you know anyone that's looking for a relationship?"
"I do, yes."
"Who?"
"Me," Jonathan answered without hesitation.
Bridget bit her lower lip for just a moment and it struck Jonathan as an affirmation of her interest in him, or at the very least it was an indication that he wasn't insane for suggesting that he might be a worthy romantic partner for her.
"I'm not like most women, Jonathan," she said. "I'm not like your ex-fiancée. I'm not like other women you've dated."
Bridget seemed utterly convinced of that fact, though Jonathan wondered how that could be possible. She didn't know anything about him or his past relationships.
"My ex-fiancée wasn't right for me. I thought she was, but she clearly wasn't. Maybe you are. What is it you're looking for?"
"I'm looking for a good boy," Bridget said.
For the most part Jonathan was confused. Bridget was clearly being serious but it wasn't at all clear what she meant. There was something intriguing about the look in her eyes, though, and the way her lips curled into the slightest smile as she said it.
"A good boy?" he asked.
She nodded. "More specifically, a man that wants to be a good boy for me. That finds pleasure in being a good boy for me. That wants to hear those words of praise from me. That finds himself awash in a deep sense of satisfaction when he's acted in a manner that causes me to caress his face, kiss him softly, and tell him that he's been a good boy for me."
There was something almost hypnotic about how she held Jonathan's gaze and the manner in which she delivered the explanation of her desires. Jonathan couldn't claim any sort of understanding of what she meant, and yet he was oddly enraptured by Bridget.
She took his hand and their fingers entwined. A gentle sense of pleasure spread through Jonathan's body as he felt the warmth of her skin against his.
"Does it feel good when I touch you?" she asked softly.
He nodded.
Bridget gently squeezed Jonathan's hand and then stood on her toes, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. Warmth and pleasure spread like wildfire from the spot where her lips had touched his skin and he closed his eyes as the sensation worked its way through his body, leaving happiness in its wake.
"Does it feel good when I kiss you?" she whispered.
"It feels...perfect."
She kissed him again, but this time her lips found his neck. It was a soft, delicate kiss, but it lasted for a few seconds and she moaned so quietly that only Jonathan could hear. It was enough to stir his desire in a considerable fashion, leading to what he worried might be a noticeable bulge in his pants.
"I can be very generous," Bridget said, "which means it can be very rewarding to be my boyfriend...as long as you're a good boy, of course."
The phrase still sounded strange to Jonathan, and yet it was oddly compelling as he felt a strange desire to try and be that good boy for Bridget, perhaps because he wanted to lay claim to whatever rewards she might offer.
"I...I want to be a good for you," he said, though Jonathan had no concept of what that actually meant.
"Come with me."
Bridget turned and led Jonathan away from the throngs of people at the center of the party. They wound their way through the botanical garden, passing a handful of couples enjoying the flowers and the topiaries until their journey ended on a marble bench situated no more than ten feet from a small fountain in a circular area surrounded by thick, lush bushes.
"I didn't know this was here," Jonathan said as he sat next to Bridget.
She smiled. "I know. It's my favorite place in the garden. We have total privacy."
A moment later she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft but urgent and when they parted Jonathan's did the same. Her tongue dashed into his mouth and brushed against his teeth before he opened his mouth a little more. On her tongue's next pass his was there to greet it and Bridget moaned softly, luring Jonathan deeper into a sense of desire.
As they kissed, she took his hand and placed it on her breast. He did what he imagined she wanted and applied gentle pressure, eliciting yet another soft moan as she lured his tongue a little deeper into her mouth.
Jonathan was the one that moaned when Bridget's hand brushed against his cock, stroking him softly through the thin material of his slacks. Her touch sent ripples of pleasure through his body and his hand roamed to her other breast as he deemed that it too deserved the sensual, eager attention of his fingers.
Her hand moved from his crotch and she leaned back as Jonathan withdrew his fingers from her chest. Bridget wiped a bit of errant saliva from her lips, smiled, and said, "You're a good kisser, Jonathan."
"You're better than good," he replied.
She laughed softly and leaned in once more. This time, though, she straddled him while their tongues danced. Jonathan ran his hands down Bridget's back and grabbed her ass through the thin material of her sundress. She dragged her hips forward, generating significant friction in his pants and sending his hands further south until they reached the bare flesh of her thighs.
Jonathan was tempted to run his fingers under her dress to try and grip her ass, to squeeze it, to urge Bridget to grind on his cock and provide more of the intensely pleasurable friction. It felt like too much, though, and he wondered if it was the sort of thing that a good boy would avoid doing.
"I want to cum," Bridget said.
At first, Jonathan couldn't believe his ears.
"Will you be a good boy?"
"Yes," he answered.
She dragged her hips back and forth over his lap, offering that incredible friction. She caressed his face and stared into his eyes while doing so and asked, "Will you make me cum?"
"Yes."
Bridget kissed him deeply and her hips moved with increasing speed as her tongue danced in his mouth. Jonathan grabbed her ass - through the dress - and squeezed it hard, eliciting a moan that filled him with confidence.
"There's one thing I need from you," she said.
"Anything."
Bridget smiled and caressed his face and Jonathan felt like he was utterly enamored with her. "You need to promise that you won't cum until I see you again."
"What?"
She kissed him on the cheek and neck and moaned. "A good boy doesn't cum without his girlfriend's permission. He's allowed to ask, but he won't grant himself the pleasure he seeks unless he gets permission from his girlfriend."
"When...when will I see you again?" he asked.
Her smile was warm and her touch impossibly soft as she caressed his face. "I don't know yet. That's part of being a good boy for me, though. You're not going to know when you get to cum next. You're going to have to wait. You're going to have to show that you can be patient, Jonathan, that you're willing to sacrifice at least a little bit for me. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy?"
Jonathan was surprised at how badly he wanted to be a good boy for her. It was like Bridget had cast some sort of spell over him without Jonathan knowing. "Yes, I can," he said.
Again she slid her hips back and forth over his crotch and again his body lit up with the pleasure of the friction. "Are you sure? Because I don't like being disappointed, Jonathan. I don't want to hear that you've been a bad boy. I only want you to be a good boy."
"What...what happens if I'm a bad boy?"
Her face turned serious. "You get dumped. You lose out on a chance for the kind of happiness you've always dreamed of. And there are no second chances."
Jonathan was struck by the surety with which she delivered her words, leaving no question in his mind that their relationship - if that's even what it was - would be over the instant he disappointed her to a significant degree.
"But there's no reason to be bad, Jonathan," she said with a smile. "I told you, I'm generous. Very generous. I'm not the kind of girl that wants a man to go without the things he enjoys. I just want him to be a good boy, which means that he gets to enjoy those things when I give him permission."
Her self-assuredness was irresistibly sexy. "I'll be a good boy," he said.
Bridget kissed him slowly and deeply and dragged her hips back and forth over his crotch at a similarly slow pace, doing so until Jonathan's loins were boiling with intense desire.
Then she stood, stepped back until she was a few feet from the fountain, and pointed to the grass. "Be a good boy and get on your knees for me."
Jonathan looked down and thought of how his pants would pick up grass stains. He didn't care. He fell to his knees. His boner caused a tent in his pants and seemingly put a smile on Bridget's face.
"Is that for me?"
He nodded.
"I like that very much. Good boys get to use their dicks with great frequency. If you're a very good boy you'll get to fuck me and you'll get to fuck me often, Jonathan. Does that sound like something you'd enjoy?"
It sounded like the most enjoyable thing in the world, so Jonathan nodded.
"You don't get to fuck me yet," she said with a smile. "I know you'd love that. I know you'd love it if I took my panties off and took you inside me for a long, slow ride where I bathe you in the heat and wetness of my pussy."
He nodded again.
"Don't worry. You'll get to enjoy that. As long as you're a good boy for me."
Her voice was soft and sensual. It was damn hear hypnotic and Jonathan felt himself being drawn in, as if every word she spoke made him that much more desperate to be a good boy for her.
"I am going to let you see my pussy, though. I'm going to let you taste it, too."
Bridget lifted the bottom of her pretty sundress and exposed a pair of white lace panties. She reached down and pulled them aside and Jonathan stared at a perfect-looking pussy with a lovely little tuft of blonde hair above it.
"It's so beautiful," he said.
"I know, and it's capable of making you feel things you've never felt. So be a good boy and come kiss it."
Jonathan crawled closer, looked up at her, and then leaned forward and kissed her pussy. His lower lipped spread around her clit and he moved his tongue over it and inside her for a quick taste.
Bridget put a hand on the top of his head and pushed back. "Such a greedy boy. I didn't say you could lick my pussy, did I?"
He shook his head.
"I understand your desire to taste me and I'm not mad, but I need you to listen, Jonathan. Good boys listen when their girlfriend gives them instructions."
"Sorry. I'll listen."
She ran her fingers through his hair, caressed his face, and leaned down to kiss him. "I know you will," she whispered. "Now eat my pussy."
Bridget stood up and Jonathan leaned in and put his tongue to work. He lapped at her plump, slippery pussy lips and pushed inside her. He tasted her juices and massaged her clit. She rewarded him with a soft moan as her fingers entwined in his hair. She took a grip that was firm enough to remind him she was in control, for she could have yanked his head out from between her legs in an instant.
Bridget let him work, though. Jonathan feasted on her pussy in a manner he'd never done before. He wasn't the sort of man that denied his previous girlfriends oral sex, but he'd never been a particularly dedicated performer of cunnilingus. This was different, though. He was possessed by an intense desire to service Bridget's pussy, to be the good boy she wanted him to be.
"That feels so good," she said softly. "You're being such a good boy, Jonathan."
His dick ached at the phrase. Somehow she'd already made it feel essential for him to receive that verbal reward. He reached down and stroked himself a little through his pants.
"No touching your cock while you're eating my pussy," she said. "This is about my pleasure, not yours."
He moved his hand away.
"Just focus on making me feel good, Jonathan. Just focus on giving me an orgasm, on serving me. Put your selfish desires aside and find pleasure in making me cum."
Jonathan ran his hands up the backs of her thighs and gently squeezed her ass.
"There you go," she said with a moan. "That's a very good use of your hands. Use them for my benefit. Use them to satisfy me."
He slipped two fingers into her pussy and penetrated her gently while squeezing her ass with his other hand. He used everything at his disposal to make her feel good, to pleasure her, to serve her pussy.
"Oh…Jonathan…I'm cumming," she said in a strained voice.
He felt her thighs and ass tremble. He felt her pussy get wetter around his fingers. He felt her grip his hair tighter. She kept her moans quiet, but the frequency greatly increased.
When she bent forward Jonathan was deprived of the chance to lick her clit, but he figured that meant it was far too sensitive for stimulation as she experienced the bliss of an orgasm.
Eventually, Bridget dropped to her knees, smiled, and kissed him. It was a long, slow kiss that got increasingly more passionate as it went on. Eventually it transformed into a full-on makeout session with lots of touching, squeezing, and caressing of all the right spots. Bridget's hand found its way to his cock and she stroked him vigorously through his pants, generating a tidal wave of arousal that made its way through his body, thought its effect was strongest squarely between his legs.
"Thank you," Bridget said as she leaned back.
Her chest and cheeks were flushed red from the strength of her orgasm. There was a thin sheen of sweat along her hairline and her eyes looked particularly dewy, as if her climax had proven damn near overwhelming.
"It was my pleasure," he replied.
"I think you're going to be a very good boy for me, Jonathan. How would you feel about me sitting in your lap on that bench so we can make out a little more?"
"There's literally nothing I'd rather do."
He got up and helped her to his feet. He sat on the bench, she sat across his lap, and then resumed making out like they'd done on their knees.
They'd remain on that bench for nearly an hour. They'd spend that time making out, talking, holding hands, caressing each other, and generally growing as close as two people could be after knowing each other for just a few hours.
The party would end with them going their separate ways – with Bridget’s promise they would see each other again soon – and Jonathan promising that he would be a good boy and refrain from masturbating.
The only question was whether he valued a potential relationship with Bridget enough to keep that promise.
