1. Like Pieces of a Jigsaw Puzzle--Part 3


    Date: 10/14/2015, Categories: Fiction, Consensual Sex, Death, Domination/submission, Romance, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 80, Source: sexstories.com

    then.” “Would you excuse me a second, Nancy? I need to get something from the kitchen.” “Oh…go ahead.” I looked across the living room at the bemused expressions on my family’s faces. “What? Aren’t we going to open our presents?” “We will, Nancy…in a minute or so.” I noticed Henry walk back to me from the kitchen. I’m sure the look on my face was one of shock when he knelt in front of me and took my hand. My family was all smiles as Henry began to speak. “Nancy, I couldn’t tell you earlier what your father and I discussed, but I will now. Nancy Marie Rizzo…will you marry me?” As shocked as I was all I could see was Henry shaking. I leaned forward, placed my hands in his hair, and pressed my lips against his, holding them there for several minutes. “That was a yes, Henry. You can stop shaking now and put the ring on my finger. That was Grandma’s, wasn’t it? Now I understand the need for secrecy, Darling and I forgive you. My hand was shaking as Henry slipped it onto my finger. I took a quick look at it and pulled Henry to me, holding him as I would for the rest of our lives. Everyone jumped up and came to us for handshakes, hugs, and kisses. What a Christmas present! I held Henry as I’d never held him before and I would have continued had my sister not asked if we were EVER going to open our gifts. I took the hint and reluctantly released my slave—my husband-to-be. We all went to the tree and found our pile of gifts. One of the advantages of being rich was that was always ...
    received more than our share of presents. The biggest surprise was that Henry’s pile was biggest by far. I guess Mom really did like to shop. We’d been back at Penn State only a few days when she sent the first text asking for Henry’s sizes—shirt, slacks, underwear, and shoes. Mom and Daddy had bought him an entire new wardrobe. I was thrilled, but saw tears in Henry’s eyes as he began to open his gifts. I knew why—he’d never had a Christmas like this growing up. It had taken me a lot of time and effort, but I’d eventually pulled the entire story out of him. His mother blamed her husband’s death on Henry. He was three and had hurt his thumb playing with a hammer. He had been crying and wouldn’t stop when his father left for a jog. That he jogged almost every day seemed to be lost on Henry’s mother. No amount of explanation by Henry’s grandparents could change her mind and, over time, they came to see things her way. What a shame! We returned to the apartment two days later and I continued with Henry’s training, concentrating now on personal services for me. I had him shave my legs and armpits several times until he could do it in the dark. Then I began the manicures. He would shape and polish my nails before applying polish, blowing them dry with his exhalations only to remove the polish and start again. I must have run him through the cycle a dozen times that first day. The following he worked on pedicures and foot massages. I must say that my feet never looked better than they ...