Mick and Molly spent Saturday evening at a dinner party hosted by one of River City’s iconic political dudes and his wife. He’s a former 60’s impresario of rock and roll and publican, who moved onto a broader community portfolio later in life. His career path is similar to the current Mayor of Denver, who’s family came from these parts. His guests last night were an eclectic bunch, including an car company manager who grew up hereabouts and his younger Japanese wife.
As we explored how this couple met in Japan a few years back, we riffed on the differences between husband and wife relationships in the “Floating Kingdom” and The U S of A. The couple told us that in Japan, men dominate the work culture, but t at home, the wives are in charge, from controlling the purse to ruling domestic life generally.
I noted, with a little under the table squeeze of Mistress’s black tighted thigh, that we have adopted Japanese management techniques in our household. Mistress confirmed my observation, but noted that it took me about 18 years to come around to finally acknowledging that it was her destiny to rule.
Of course this generated laughs and nods all around. But if only the assembled guests knew that the older gent at the end of the table had agreed by contract to submit to his younger, devastatingly attractive wife.
They should have been flies on the wall the night before…
We were hunkered down at home as snow began to fall. The locals were in full panic at the thought of 5 inches of snow tumbling onto their hilly streets. The Groceries were reported clogged with shoppers stocking up on water and condiments as if nuclear winter was about to descend.
We settled before our big screen computer to gorge via “Crackle” on some early episodes of “Damages”. We had heard good things about the show but missed it the first time around.
Check it out. Glenn Close plays the scariest lawyer I have ever seen (and I have been exposed to more than my fair share, including my first wife.)
Oddly, this character reprises Close’s “bunny boiling” villainy from “Fatal Attraction”, by having her order the assassination of acute little puppy in season one. I guess pet killing is metaphor for ball busting? But we digress…
We cuddled up, watched a few episodes, drank some wine, ate some day old chili. Cozy fun. But by bed time, Slave was tired. We had quite robust sex twice earlier in the day, once in the morning, and again after work. Quite frankly, I would have been happy to take a pass.
But Mistress has needs.
“You seem tired Slave?”
“Yes, aren’t you?”
“Not too tired…”
“I would be happy to worship, Mistress” (this is Slave code for can I suck your cunt, then go to sleep?)
“I think I want to play with your cock, Slave”.
“Of course you can, it’s yours Mistress”
“Yes, Slave, it is.”
Mistress was wearing one of her seductive little numbers, all lacy and feminine. A texture and look that always helps a Slave focus. She climbed up off the bed, fumbled for something in her closet, and came back with a vivid leather turquoise colored glove on her right hand.
“On your back, Slave.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
The supple leather of her glove found my soft cock.
“Not, too impressive, Slave.”
“No Mistress. I am a little tipsy, tired. Sorry.”
I was concerned that despite her efforts, Mistress would not be able to make things come out the way she likes her cock. This could be …bad.
But resigned to my fate, I lay back, relaxed, prepared to “suffer” the consequences, however embarrassing or pleasurable they might be.
It turned out that surrendering to my fate at Mistress’s clever fingers was the ticket.
Soon I was hard, moaning, ready. But Mistress was not cutting to the chase.
She positioned me to her requirements, then slid her hips over my face, her tongue gently teasing my now firm tool.
“You know what to do, Slave.”
I set about my task, my face buried in her fragrant opening, that was now pressing hard against my open mouth. My tongue probed and explored inside, making her squirm and press even harder against me. My lips captured her oh so responsive clit, and I tugged at it, making her undulations against me all the more frantic.
Meanwhile, Mistress had taken me into her mouth, and the combination of her soft tongue and lips and the crafty, gloved fingers toying with my balls took me from “zero to hero” ( or deadbeat to dynamo) in a few delightful minutes.
Mistress ultimately succumbed to the suction that drew her tenderest parts into my greedy mouth. Squirm as she did, I would just not let go. She gave out her little cry of surrender, and collapsed onto my face that by now was showered with her delicious juices.
Then she rolled over, satisfied, a hand still gripping my hungry cock.
“May I fuck you now, Mistress.”
“But I thought you were tired, Slave. Wouldn’t want to wear you out.”
“You seem to have rejuvenated me, Mistress.”
“If you beg, I may be generous, Slave.”
More begging. Groveling. Me pumping against Mistress’s tight grip. Argh.
But Mistress is kind, and after sufficient begging, I was finally allowed to demonstrate that I had somehow found my second wind.
