It's Christmas Eve here in River City, and the good news is that the rain is threatening to stop for a few hours. Good timing, because I will be taking my little co-ed and an older daughter and her beau to see the Pussycats play what amounts to a play-off game for them. Then we have the big Christmas Eve family gathering - the one we've avoided for the last 11 years or so. But this year, I'm actually looking forward to it.
39 degrees, rain and mudslides is not something that brings Bing Crosby crooning to mind. But it's a pleasant break to be here for what we hope will not be too harried a weekend.
Yesterday was another day we've not experienced in a while: the last work day before the Christmas break, when both of our offices shut down "spontaneously" a few hours early for the holidays, just as everyone suspected they would.
And, of course, Mistress and Slave planned to do just that: escaping at noon for a little R & R.
I must say we were a little surprised to find Francois waiting for us when we got home -- apparently even the French Foreign Legion arranges for a little early liberte' for the Holidays! He bore marzipan treats confiscated from some evil terrorist black marketeer his comrades had brought to justice, to satisfy Mistress's longing. But because the sullen co-ed was lurking about, that was the extent to which Mistress's needs were satisfied by our MIA "chef".
We even invited our daughter to come down and meet our exotic friend, but she demurred.
"I'm in a towel", was all she said.
"Won't bother me", Francois muttered under his breath.
No doubt.
After Francois left for another engagement, Mistress and the cute Co-Ed were off for some nail maintenance, and Slave did a little final Christmas shopping. Packages were wrapped, and there was still time for a brief nap before meeting my older daughter and her boyfriend, in from DC, for some pizza.
Waking from our nap, Mistress asked for the phone.
"I fell a little bad I've not talked to the WC in a while Slave.... let's give him a call."
Well, one thing led to another and before you knew it, Slave was on his knees, Mistress's legs were spread, and I was enjoying her sweet juices as she listed to whatever tale of debauchery he was murmuring in her ear.
The result was two nice little post nap, pre-pizza cums for our CEO. Let's hope our other colleagues put their early dismissal to just as good a use!
We hope all of our readers have a relaxing Christmas Eve with family and friends. Look here tomorrow for a real holiday treat: Our Western and Southern Correspondent have collaborated on a particularly amusing essay on corporal punishment that I know you will not want to miss! In fact, you may want to consider adding a paddle or over-sized shoe horn to your loved one's stocking tonight, just in case he or she is inspired by tomorrow's blog.
Molly and Mick were way over-scheduled for a Sunday.
Yes, we did get in our morning sex here, but there was no time for a proper switch day. I had to go to my office to deal with a client emergency, and Mistress wanted to get in that 9 am spinning class.
For me, it was then onto watch the local pussycats pull a sad 4th quarter fade against the bullies from Texas. Mistress caught up with some of her own work.
But fortunately, there was a UCTMW staff member available to help her through the lonely afternoon.
When I got home from the game at around 5 pm, my head hung a little lower than normal after one of those come from ahead last minute losses, Mistress had a little good news to share.
"I did fit in a little phone sex with the WC, Slave."
At least Mistress had been having some fun.
"How many, Mistress?"
"Just two, Slave...."
"And did you get out your power tool?"
"Yes, Slave...."
"Well at least some of your day was well spent, then, Mistress...."
There was time for a little nap before my cute grandkids came over for dinner, so we took a little nap, cuddled in the UCTMW executive suite.
After dinner, we did take a walk. It was luminaria night here in our charming little town, and everything was a glow. To add to the scene, a full moon shined in the cloudless sky. All we needed was a little snow to hit a holiday home run. Maybe I should have kept Mistress home, tied her to the bed and given her a suitable switch day.
But strolling in the quiet cold, all bundled up, seemed to best way to end a too short weekend.
Slept in too late this morning. So our readers may only get a brief dose of Mick and Molly this morning.
Here is the brief update:
Morning worship, then the chance to fuck. Check.
Drive to work with Mistress’s legs on the dash, giving me a chance to run my fingers along her smooth, well exercised thighs. Check.
Lunch time with Mistress, with the opportunity to worship. Check.
She left me with the seductive scent of her juices on my face and fingers to remind me of her the rest of the afternoon.
We had plans to join friends at a downtown restaurant at a benefit dinner for an AIDS charity. Before hand we stopped for a drink. Mistress ordered an “Old Fashion”, in honor of her hero, Don Draper, the lead character in Mad Men. His suave, stylish demeanor makes his habitual womanizing seem only a minor character flaw.
And as we sipped our drinks, we talked about her conversation earlier in the day with our Western Correspondent.
“M says that it’s probably a good thing that we can’t have real sex, Slave?”
Of course, Mistress has all options available to her. But M is a little reticent, for several very understandable reasons.
“And why is that?”
“He says it might ruin our phone sex….”
I wondered what our friends in the blog-o-verse think about that?
And I suppose it could “ruin” them once (and if) the anticipated spontaneous human combustion occurs: when special occasion cock meets Mistress’s smoldering cunt, the anticipation would be over. Could they turn back? Would the physical distance between them just become a source of frustration?
Of course, what if it just doesn’t fit? Another problem to consider.
As we sat there I pulled out my cell phone to give M a call. I didn’t bring up the subject of the non-compete. We’ll let our lawyers work that out.
“M, just so you know, you and B (his wife) are welcome to join us at our Mountain hide-away the weekend after Thanksgiving.”
M thanked me for the invitation, but was , understandably, non-committal.
I wanted him to know that Slave was extending the invitation, as well as Mistress. But whether it ever happens…. Only ‘Nilla’s goddess knows for sure.
After a long dinner, both Slave and Mistress were pretty tired and very full. We read a bit, then went to sleep.
But Mistress had one final word…. “Slave, we’re driving separately tomorrow …. I want you to wear your cage.”
“Of course, Mistress.”
When I woke this morning, I grabbed the steel ring, to make sure I could slide it on before the colder weather made my balls a little less co-operative.
So this morning, when the blog reading and worship is done, Mistress will get the benefit of a cock made particularly hard and needy by that tight steel ring.
Deadline time…..will report back later. Have a great Wednesday, all.
We were riding past verdant vineyards and cornfields, heading for a rendezvous with the type of high cholesterol breakfast only justified by a brisk early morning bike ride.
“I’m not surprised, Mistress.”
I remembered seeing that glistening smear there, midway down her right thigh, after our equally brisk wake-up sex.
I guess a good slave would have cleaned up the mess he’d left behind.
AS we pumped through the humid morning air, a nice breeze from the lake at our backs, we had time to review the amusing events of the night before.
“It was a little embarrassing, Slave.”
“Well, I am sorry that I …interrupted. But it’s not like I didn’t know what was likely going on inside….”
“It’s just a little strange to be , you know….”
“Caught in the act, Mistress?”
“I suppose…..”
I reviewed for her what led me to open the door of our little rustic apartment before being called to her side.
After our afternoon at the beach, we had a nice little picnic dinner outside on the lawn of this old Victorian guest house where we were spending the football weekend.
Mistress had her “date” with M arranged for around 7 pm. She had generously offered to fuck me first, but I demurred.”
“First, Mistress, you always seem to want my cock after one of those phone sessions with your Dom. Second, maybe it’s a little false bravado, but I don’t care to be the opening act….I like being the headliner….the Closer….”
Mistress laughed, and we riffed off this concept a bit as we finished our smoked salmon, cheese, salami, fresh tomatoes, etc. And some French rose too. Yum.
By the time we finished we were both full, but also a little feisty. And Mistress was watching the clock. The time for her “date’ was approaching and her slutty anticipation was building…
I decided to take advantage, and stretch our legs a bit too.
“How about a short walk on the beach, Mistress?”
“Hmmm….good idea, but do we have time?”
I told you she was anxious. But there was time, and to be safe, she texted M to make sure 7:15 would work.
Down on the beach, the sun was low, casting magnificent, golden light onto the dunes and the last stragglers enjoying the cool water with the summer’s last hurrah.
But I found a short deserted length of the strand to hold Mistress tight, attack her mouth with mine, and slide my fingers up and under her tie-dye dress.
“MMMMm….”
I would brook no protest, and as my tongue gagged her, my fingers did their dirty work, until Mistress was shuddering in my arms with those needy little gasps of pleasure. I wanted to leave her all wet and sticky before her encounter with M and the Hitachi.
As she settled down into my arms, I could tell Mistress’s mind was already focused on getting back….not being late for him. So we turned around and walked back through a tree lined break in the bluffs to our little apartment.
“Make sure the Hitachi is out, Slave….”
Check.
“Can I use your phone….my charge is too low.”
“No problem, Mistress.”
I handed it to her, with one more embrace.
“Where will you be?”
I may have a drink with those folks outside on the lawn. Or out here on the deck with my lap-top.”
“Ok…”
Distractedly, she kissed me adieu. She was well primed for him, and I was gratified that I had helped with the priming.
Our “neighbors” were more than entertaining. Three African American couples from the Windy City, an hour drive across the lake. They come here every Labor Day weekend. Among them, two women still serving as Chicago cops. A guy who is a retired Cop. A registered nurse. We talked gangs, pensions, hard times, the Mayors Daley. And we sipped some fine single malt scotch. They took me in, offered to share their BBQ, and didn’t even ask where my fetching bride might ever be.
Time flew, and as they began packing away their things, I realized I had not heard from Mistress in about 70 minutes or so.
I said good night, they told me to look them up the next time I was in their town, and I went back to our little deck, where I had left my laptop to begin the next morning’s blog as Mistress finished off her little smutty chat with M.
And I would have been more than content to stay out there, enjoying the warm late summer evening but for two things:
First, it began to sprinkle. Little dots of water began popping up on my screen. Oops. I tried to wiggle under to eaves to keep the laptop dry as I let my consciousness stream across the page. (I found that my scotch induced prose needed some serious editing in the am. I guess I’m no Scott Fitzgerald.) But that was a losing battle as the rain began to intensify.
Then some other neighbors – more Chicagoans, but of the white redneck category – began getting under my skin. I hate to hear a grown man curse and threaten a 10 year old. And after a few abusive snarls, and what sounded like some gratuitous spanks that had the poor boy wailing, I knew I was either going to give this “dad” an unsolicited lesson in parenting I would probably regret, or I would have to risk interrupting Mistress.
I opted for the latter.
Our “suite” had two small rooms and a bath. No door to close between them. So as I gently turned the key, and tried to discretely slide inside the door to cower in the “living room” until Mistress was done, I could not help but get a glimpse of Mistress splayed across our bed.
Her lovely tie-dye dress was hiked up around her hips, her legs were scissoring langorously, her head was thrown back, and both hands were gripping the Hitachi pressing it hard against that needy little clit.
Oops. Very bad timing.
I had hoped I would only be barging in on one of their interludes.
Not surprisingly, the commotion at the door caught Mistress’s eye.
“Oh dear, M…we have a problem here….Slave is back…”
I fled to the couch in the other room.
“Don’t mind me Mistress….it’s raining out….just go on”.
The phone was still in her hand.
Mistress was trying to appease us both.
“Are you Ok, Slave… sorry you had to see that…”
“No problem, Mistress…you should feel free to contnue.”
And then to M:
“”I’m sorry M….it was raining out. He’s OK….no problems here.”
Of course, M is wired differently than this Slave. He was thinking how he might react to discovering B under similar compromising circumstances.
“Let’s just go back to where we were….”
Mistress waved to me, went back in the bedroom.
I could hear the Hitachi switch back on. Mistress’s sexy cooing to M…”
“Go on …. Yes….Yes….. What are you doing…..”
And I could sense her tempo increasing, until there was that tempered moan of pleasure from her, the sounds of her legs thrashing about on the bed….she was coming again for him.
SO while I had disrupted things, at least she had been able to finish the job.
And afterwards, Mistress was still crazy for her “work-a-day” cock, riding it with abandon, forcing even more orgasms from her self.
We both slept hard and long.
Now, on our bike ride, Mistress shared a little more of their evening before I so rudel interrupted.”
“Sorry I took so long, Slave.”
“It wasn’t a problem for me….I just felt bad coming in before you were completely satisfied.”
“Well he was teasing me…..it took forever for him to let me use the Hitachi….he was terrible. Beastly.”
“But you loved it….”
“I suppose I did.”
“And did he finally let you use it, after lots of begging and groveling for him?”
“Finally….”
“And I bet I could have heard you outside the door, when you finally had that first orgasm with him?”
“I suspect you could have Slave.”
And speaking of uncomfortable: a hard cock when you are in the 10th mile of a bike ride.
Yesterday I left you hanging about whether Molly would adapt a literal interpretation of M’s Thursday evening’s instruction that she could have “no more orgasms tonight” in anticipation of their Friday morning “date”.
After I finished my morning homework, I came upstairs to find Mistress busy on her computer, lying in bed, stroking her needy little kitty. (No, that is not a clever euphemism. We do have two very well indulged cats).
“I was wondering if you were going to come up to fuck me, Slave.”
I handed her my laptop, so she could be amused by my morning’s efforts.
“Uhhh. What about your instructions, Mistress. Do you really want me to fuck you but not allow you to come.”
She gave me a little scowl.
“Are you two conspiring against me or something. Trying to make me even hornier?”
“Who, me?”
I gave her my little devious shrug, settled next to her to allow her to read the blog: my memo to M.
After giggling through that, she took her “medicine” and made no further efforts to subvert her cyber Master’s command.
(BTW, I really don’t think I am programmed to fuck that way, in any event. My body’s prime directive is now so well engineered to serve Mistress’s pleasure, that the thought of coming before she does can’t compute for me.)
Soon we were off on different paths: Mistress was officially "working from home" today. She was taking an early morning bike ride before her telephonic rendezvous with M.
I was all suited up, and off to a “dispute resolution” event with some recalcitrant clients and their adversaries.
But I made sure before I left that the Hitachi was readily available and that the little white probe was resting on her pillow with a container of lube, as M had required.
That morning, I was focused on managing a client who had trouble articulating her own interests in a complicated case. But as the designated moment for Mistress’s rendezvous approached, I could not help but consider that Mistress would soon be getting some of her own needs taken care of by our Western Correspondent.
“Have fun, Mistress”, I texted to her.
“I will sexy Slave”, she promptly responded.
And over the next 40 minutes or so, I was shifting a little uncomfortably in my seat, as my own pavlovian response kicked in whith the thoughts of Mistress spread across our bed, her Hitachi in play between those lovely thighs of her, responding to M’s smutty directions.
Argh.
About 40 minutes later, I got another text.
“Done, Slave. Now I need your cock.”
It was nice to know that she was still thinking of me after her little adventure.
I was headed back to the house by noon though, for a little family trip to a leafy campus to the north, one of the places on Sullen teen #1’s short list.
Mistress greeted me in our room, in a sexy/preppy black (f course) Izod dress that stopped somewhere at mid thigh. We kissed, but since time was tight, I only had a chance to briefly slide a finger up between her legs, touching what was by now a well satisfied mound through black panties.
“Feeling more….satisfied, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave….thanks for asking.”
She pulled away from my roving fingers, just as my cock was beginning to fill the gap between us.”
“Better get going, Slave.”
What a tease. And because the teens were in the backseat, it was hard for me to get much from her on our car ride except for a few veiled snippets.
“By the way, Our friend said you were right about those instructions. He said I was thinking like a lawyer, not a …..well you know.”
“That’s what I suspected…(I had to stifle the word Mistress in mid Mis….) . Imagine what would have happened if you had gotten those instructions wrong….”
But I had a feeling that Mistress was curious about the consequences.
“He said maybe he should begin imposing a 48 hour embargo….”
I raised my eyebrows.
“But I lobbied for 24 hours.”
“I’ll be curious to see how that comes out….”
“Yes, because it’s going to effect you, you know.”
“That’s what I figured….” (As our reader Aisha had too.)
After arriving on campus and enduring the long presentation about why our little darling would come in a indulged adolescent and emerge as a princess of industry if only she matriculated there, we were off on the 90 minute campus tour.
The first thing that greeted us was a group of bikini clad co-eds, already into their first Friday afternoon beers, sunbathing on the roof of an off-campus hovel, urging our daughters to join them in falls to come. I wondered if this was something a clever admissions co-ordinator had ginned up. If so, it was NOT working for this Dad.The thought of writing those big checks for tuition and fees, and providing extra expense money for a beer bong was not warming my heart.
But the tour did allow us to lag behind, giving me more time for Q and A:
“So, how many times, Mistress?”
“He asked me that too, Slave. I told him “at least 3” but in fact I lost track.”
“Nice, Mistress….”
“Does that make you jealous, Slave?”
I had to think about that. I had in mind thought of Mistress surrendering herself so completely to his voice and direction, and coming so hard, so quickly and so completely for him. I imagined her writhing, moaning, sobbing, begging for more.
And my cock was growing hard as the peppy male tour guide gave us his canned jokes about campus delicacies (the mashed potato bowl at the food court) and the failed Presidency of William Henry Harrison, who at least has a dorm named after him.
Down, boy, down.
“Well, I don’t know that jealous is the word, Mistress. I certainly don’t resent your moments with M. I think they’re good for you, and well, just taking about it is making me hard.”
“”Oh really?” Mistress eye’s lit up. I knew she was tempted to confirm that with her fingers But what would our fellow parents think?
“Doe it make you ….competitive, Slave?”
“Uhhh, yeah, that’s one word for it. A healthy competition. I want to give you some of those orgasms too, Mistress.”
“Well when we get home this evening, you certainly will, Slave.”
My now softening cock pressed between Mistress’s smooth ass cheeks, two fingers toying with her right nipple, my palm nestling her breast. I am zoning out, coming down from a lengthy and explosive bout of lovemaking. The type where your cock says “keep going, dude” and the rest of your body says “Hey old guy, you’re almost 60, can’t this wait until morning. You did this twice already today.”
Mistress is coming down too. Murmuring into the phone with our Western Correspondent. I recall one line:
“I’m not sure how much one cunt can take, M. Three intense encounters with Mick today, two over the phone with you. You guys really have me at your mercy.”
So let me back up 24 hours and give you the “pervy” chronology, as our partner in perv, SFP would put it:
12:15 am – Mistress returns home from seeing “Sex in the City” with surly teen 2 (Surly teen 1 was in the “City” with her boyfriend; my guess is they did not need the movie).
She strips, takes off the makeup. As she climbs in to bed, tired like me, I tell her that I had finished up the morning blog, and that it had made me a little horny. But we resolve to wait until morning.
But as I spoon against her, the damn friction between cock and her smooth, firm ass cheeks get me twitching. Soon my hand is sliding between her legs from behind and the soft caress of a single finger has her going too. That finger soon has her coming in soft little shudders, then rolling over to welcome my firm cock.
7:30 am – I am up only briefly, with just the time to post the blog and brew some coffee, before Mistress pages me from above. The blog, and our talk of her plans for her afternoon “date” with Master M carry us through yet another sexual adventure. Then off for a bike ride in the humid summer air.
11:30 am- Mistress returns from her beauty rituals. I am out in our yard, clipping, mowing and mulching. Guy stuff. My text message goes off:
“Home. Where are U?”
“In the yard. Worship?”
“Sure”
Her wish was my command. I came in, stripped off sweaty T and soon found myself on my knees, enjoying the taste and fragrance of that clean shaven cunt.
2:00 pm – We are lounging on our deck. Mistress working on her tan, reading a book. Me paging through the Times in a shady spot. Mistress has been texting with her new Master, as he reports his exploits on the golf course.
Mistress had told me they planned a phone date, and she was getting a little fidgety. When would it be? She did not want it to interfere with our own Saturday afternoon romp. And the girls were now gone, leaving Mom and Dad with an empty house to play in.
“He says I can call him now, Slave.”
“Then go for it, Mistress.”
She leaned over for a kiss as she passed me, I-phone in hand.
“I will want your cock when I’m done, Slave. I’ll text you.”
I settled in with the Times, admittedly distracted by Mistress hi-jinks upstairs. After about 20 minutes. my text went off:
“Still talking Slave.”
Then, a few minutes later:
“He’s giving instructions.”
Hmmm. Twitch. Torture. I asked myself for the 347th time why this concept turns me on so much.
2:45 pm: After about 45 minutes of elapsed time, my cell phone rang.
“I need you up here now, Slave.”
Mistress says she likes a hard cock after coming by Hitachi or other non- penetrative means. And She did not have to ask me twice to provide one.
As we fucked with a certain crazy desperation, I debriefed her on their talk.
“Where was he, Mistress.”
“driving home from golf, Slave. He was hoping to do it with his wife when he got home.”
“No doubt he will be primed.”
“And did he make you beg, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. I had to ask permission. He made me say “May I come now M?”
“And did you, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. He made me come twice.”
By then my cock had taken command and control, and the answers did not filter back to my memory reserves.
5:30 pm: When we were done, it was time to prepare for one of those obligatory holiday weekend cook outs, at which extended family and my always annoying Mother would be parked on our deck for longer than any norm of hospitality should require.
And Mistress had a special request:
“Slave, M is home alone tonite. And he wants to know if we can do it again sometime this evening.”
Mistress was not giving orders here. She wanted to know if I would be offended if she abandoned the role of smiling hostess for that of slutty love slave for a bit. And it was a gift of consent I was happy to provide. Molly has soldiered on through way too many of these family evenings. She deserved a little vacation.
“Of course, Mistress. It will make the evening more fun for both of us.”
And it did.
7:30 pm: We arranged a plan that went awry a bit. M was to text my cell phone when he was ready for her. I would inform Molly it was time for the “business call” she had to make. Then Molly would excuse herself.
AS the evening progressed, she would discretely ask if I had gotten any text messages. I had nothing to report. She was getting ansty. And maybe a little horny. All that anticipation was building up for the poor Molly. She needed her little break.
“I think I will go check my own phone, Slave.”
“Of course, Mistress.”
She came down moments later as I was feeding plates into the dishwasher and supervising the teens’ cutting watermelon.
“Somehow he forget your number, Slave. He’s ready for me now.”
“I kissed Mistress, and patted her departing ass as she headed back upstairs for her appointment.
Dessert was served, guests lingered a bit then (at last) announced their departures. I helped with the loading of grandsons and my mother.
All asked about Molly’s whereabouts, wanting to bid adieu. I told her there was a work call she had to take, but that I would pass on their thanks.
9:30 pm: As I finished the clean-up, I could here Mistress above me, pacing. Post-coital chat, no doubt. Cute. And Sexy.
When the guests had cleared away, Mistress came downstairs. That “cat ate the canary” smile on her face yet again.
“How long was I gone, Slave?”
“”Oh, an hour or so. Everyone’s gone.”
I pulled her close, kissing her lightly, but a hand possessively gripping her ass. The teens were still lingering, so I had to ease up on the PDA’s for fear of activating their “gross out” meters.
“Let’s go out to a bar, Slave. M and I were talking about tequila shots. Now I have a real thirst for one.”
So Tequila shots replaced the post-phone sex cigarette. Healthier, I think.
We drove a few blocks to a seedy biker bar, where exceedingly large people with flannel shirts and dime store cowboy hats were muttering the video screened lyrics of country tunes into microphones. Classic Americana.
I moseyed up to the bar and got a short lady bar tender in a grimy t shirt to pour her a Cuervo double and me a Jamieson on the rocks.
In our corner booth, I asked Mistress to recount her adventures.
“Sorry it took so long, Slave….he could have talked an hour longer.”
“No problem Mistress…things went fine and I wanted you to have your fun.”
I debriefed her a bit. He “made” her come three times with that oh-so-efficient Hitachi. And he came too.
“How does that feel, Mistress….to know he’s playing with his cock and that your voice, what you are putting in his head, is making him hard?”
Mistress did that little blushy, demure look thing for me.
“It’s…very sexy, Slave.”
Mistress had another double. I nursed mine. Then we headed home, after hearing one too many skinny guys try to channel Elvis.
10:30 pm: Back in our bedroom, I stripped away my shorts and T-shirt. I certainly had no expectation or desire for sex at that point. It had been a long day, and my sperm count must have been running on empty, right?
Was it the tequila that caused Mistress to phone M at that point. We had talked about calling him at some point. But suddenly she was handing the phone to me.
“M wants to say hello”.
We had a brief conversation. He told me how “cool” we are. I thanked him for the bounce he has placed in Mistress’s step. We laughed about some blog comments by SFP on Friday.
I told him I had been thinking about that old Jefferson Airplane song “Triad” in the context of our mutual courtship of Molly.
I turned the phone over to Mistress, who sat lay across the bed next to me, still in her tiedye dress and lacy panties.
I found the song on YouTube, clicked play, and then emailed it to M.
Meanwhile Mistress was chatting on, in her flirtatious way. As if all of this was very natural and comfortable. And, come to think of it, it was.
That’s when I slid my face in between Mistress’s legs, and used a finger to pull away her panties to give my tongue a little access.
“Oh my god, his face is between my legs, M. I guess I should go….”
But she didn’t go. His voice had enough of a command over her that he made her keep up the narrative. What I heard was like a deviant Bob Newhart monlogue, her on the phone to him, then passing on his comments to me. Here are some of the snippets that stuck out:
“Now he’s pulling off my panties. …..His face is buried there, M.”
“M wants me to keep talking ….he wants to hear me come again.”
“Mick’s addicted to this….he can’t get enough of the taste of my cunt, isn’t that true, Slave?
“Ummm-huhhh”.
It is true, and at this moment I could not let go…
“M wants you to suck my clit between your lips ….that’s exactly what he is doing…
By now her free hand had found my cock, and she was squeezing and stroking.
“wow….he’s pretty hard now ….”
“So why isn’t this one of your favorite things….”
“M says he likes fucking better….but Mick’s just hooked on this…he always has been.”
At some point, Mistress lost her focus on the conversation. Her words became moans, her hips bucked against me, but I would not free her from the grip of my lips until she came again.
She had not asked M for permission. For shame.
The conversation continued a bit. But Slave was needy by now, and a little uppity.
“I’d really like to fuck you now, Mistress. But not with you on the phone”.
She agreed it was time to ring off, and they said their endearing good nights. Mistress instructed me to insert my little white probe, as she did her bedtime beauty rituals. My cock kept its interest at a very high level. Which led to the long and crazy love making where this convoluted account began.
As I faded away, I heard Mistress wish her new Master goodnight. Crazy, Huh?
Molly and Mick were up a little later than normal Thursday night, watching a sweet, if sappy, movie about Valentine’s Day in LA. And when we finally went to bed, it was not without some sleepy but gratifying love making that put us out, quickly and deeply.
So Slave woke a little later than normal Friday morning, with barely the time to make coffee and retrieve the papers, before Mistress called for me.
“Mick, I’m up….”
Translation: get up here and serve me, pronto, Slave.
In reality, I like that morning “page”. It usually means that Mistress has mischief in mind.
As I came upstairs, I was still a bit sleepy. The coffee had not yet kicked in. But seeing her there, naked, in bed, full breasts, erect nipples, legs askew to show a bit of her fur-less parts, she was overwhelmingly enticing.
And the scent….wow. Mistress was already aroused.
“Did you start without me, Mistress?”
“No, Slave. Why would I do that with your tongue and cock available I paged you for a reason.”
As I settled into bed next to her, the hi-test pheromones she was tossing off quickly shredded my morning malaise. I was almost instantly hard. I could only imagine what had gotten Mistress into such an early morning state of longing. But whatever or whoever, I was happy to exploit it.
“Are you sure you weren’t using the power tool Mistress?”
She laughed.
“No Slave, why don’t you touch it and see if it’s warm. Better yet, smell it.”
I took her word for it, and went to work on her with my mouth. Once that “work” was done, I certainly needed no special handling before plunging in with her permission.
As I exploited my privilege, we talked about how deeply she has fallen under the spell of her new Master, M, fka, our Western Correspondent.
“Well, you gave him the road map, Slave…all the little clues, my weaknesses, there all there for him to pick up in the blog. Why did you do that?”
All of this said through those endearing little gasps and moans…the question was really rhetorical.
“ He does seem to be doing a good job of training you, Mistress.”
Yes, Slave ….. he’s very good at that.”
“I’ll bet you start getting wet when you hear his voice now.”
“Ummm …. Yes, it’s true.”
“He’s conditioning you, Mistress…. Soon you may not be able to come without his permission.”
“Oh…I don’t think so Slave….He wouldn’t do that.”
But as she came for me then, suddenly, and with surprising force, it seemed like there was a slight and very exciting question in her mind about that possibility.
We drove to work together. And between phone calls and some business matters I took the time to write the brief entry in yesterday’s blog.
Later, around lunch time, I received an email from Master M with his comments about the blog, directed at me and his Slave in training:
“Fun blog post again today, Mick. Thanks for the clues, and inspiration. I am going to get around to the begging for orgasm hotness, when we have time, and a leash also sounds like a very good idea,
a very long leash that could be pulled between your legs, Molly.... and held by me hiking behind you. Interesting possibilities there ... don't U think?
And U r right Mick... the sun screen would have to be liberally applied all over Molly ... wouldn't want any burning,,,, better safe than sorry.
Take care U two, M”
It’s good to get some feedback from our biggest “fan”.
But I could imagine Mistress’s reaction at the thought of that leash as she read over his email.
Later, on our ride home, Mistress confessed that she and M had another one of their in the office phone sex encounters. And of course I pumped her for the details.
“I really didn’t think I was in the mood, Slave. I was so busy ….but…”
“Did he require it, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. One minute we were just talking about our day….and the next minute he’s telling me he is pulling out his cock and that I should go to that little private bathroom where ….I do it for him.”
“I suppose you could have said ‘No’ Mistress…”
“That’s the thing ….I really didn’t feel that I could say no ,,,.”
“And how does it feel to have to do that….to play with yourself that way because he requires it?”
“Degrading, Slave …. Embarrassing ….”
“But your fingers, Mistress. You really couldn’t stop them once he told you it was time?
“No Slave….I really couldn’t.”
I imagined Mistress in this private bathroom, her knickers dangling from an ankle, skirt hiked up, her fingers desperately rubbing her clit, as she pressed her phone to her ear, hearing his smutty story of her submission and his own lustful sounds.
“Maybe we should finish this conversation at home, Mistress.”
And of course, we did, at length, not long thereafter, back in our bed.
It’s Sunday afternoon. Slave returns from Ironman II with a sullen but amused teen (You do need to see Scarlett Johanssen in this one fellow subs: very Domme-ish); Mistress is lying in bed, laptop in hand, looking disturbingly well fucked. Wearing a cotton sundress. Yet it had not been Slave doing the fucking, not since earlier that morning.
“And which ‘friend’ did you have phone sex with, Mistress?”
“Our Western Correspondent, Slave. You weren’t around. I told him it had been 10 hours….”
Why was my cock lurching to life at the thought of this particular M (remember, there are two of them) getting so intimately into Molly’s head and panties, though remotely. Yes, I am a bit twisted, I know.
“Whoa. Back up please, explain what happened, Mistress.”
I lay down on the bed next to Mistress, who had that sparkle of a good adventure in her eye.
“Well, I was at the grocery….”
“He didn’t get you off in the produce section did he?.”
No, Slave….let me tell the story….”
She rolled over on top of me, giggling about the tale she had to tell. Sadly, I had my jeans on, and she had on some panties, or I could have slid into her then and there.
“We had been texting. Back and forth. Silly stuff. At some point I told him I was horny. That you were at the movies and it had been hours and hours since we had fucked.”
“True. But it was a good one. Go on….”
“Yes, it was very good, Slave. But maybe very good just makes me want more…. Anyway, He texted back that maybe I should go home and take care of that problem.”
“And you said?”
“That maybe I would do just that ….that’s when he texted that if I wanted he would be happy to coach me through it….tell me one of his dom stories.”
M has shared some of those stories by emails, about his crazier exploits, before he submitted to his wife B. And recently they have drifted into “B and M make Molly grovel” territory. I thought I knew where this was heading….
“So you came home, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave….and I texted that he could call me. And he did.”
By now our recently entertained daughter was hungry, and made that clear. So we were forced to suspend the story for dinner preparation, despite the fact that my cock was dying to take Mistress then and there.
“Put in your device, Slave. I may need a very hard cock to finish this story.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Mistress.” But of course I complied, lubricating the little while probe before sliding it into me. Instant hard-on.
Back in bed the narrative resumed.
“So first thing he did was tell me to get the Hitachi. I had a little trouble finding where you put it Slave.”
“But you did?”
“Yes, plugged it in and turned it on at his command.”
“And what did he tell you to do next, Mistress?”
“Put it right against my clit.”
“And you said?”
“I said, Ok….but he told me that it was “Yes, Sir.”
“”I bet that turned you on…”
“Oh, yes, it did….”
I had been pressed up against Mistress, sliding my fingers over her oozing cunt, making her shudder and gasp a bit as she re-told and relived her experience. She was getting close.
“And what was in the story, Mistress?”
“Well it’s hard to remember the details, it was all a blurr…he was telling me what to do with the Hitachi, exactly where to put it….he was like the guy who calls the square dance. He definitely knew how to get me there.”
And somehow that made my cock all the harder. I accelerated my massage of her cunt, knowing after that I would be allowed to press inside her.
“But his story, Mistress….what did they do to you?”
“Oh, there was an inspection. I was naked, on all fours. They were pressing and probing and fingering me.”
“Did you like that?”
“I am sure I would. At some point I was sucking his cock, and at some point she was sitting on my face, her juices all over me….”
At this point Mistress took a break in the story and jerked hard and long against my fingers. I will give the story teller an assist on that one.
I let her catch her breath a moment, then begged for permission to fuck her. She generously consented. And I assumed my position. At last.
But the Q and A resumed.
“And did you ultimately come for him and the Hitachi, Mistress?”
“Oh yeah….I really came. I think he was impressed.”
“I am sure….was he playing with himself throughout all this?”
“No…he was driving to the grocery. We were both picking up fish for dinner. “
We laughed. But I continued to work against, Mistress, while toying with her breasts and nipples. Getting closer myself. I imagined Mike wheeling a cart, while telling Molly this nasty little story. Or maybe sitting in his car in the parking lot at COSTCO.
“But I bet it made him hard, Mistress.”
“Yes…I asked him if he was. And he said so.”
Soon I stopped the Q and A and took my own pleasure from Mistress. But her afternoon of taking directions from our Western Correspondent was not done.
“Uhhh ….Slave….there was one other thing he required during that session.”
Mistress seemed surprisingly embarrassed. It takes a lot to make her blush these days.
“Yes?”
“He demanded a picture….he texted the pose he requires.”
“And you agreed?”
“Of course, Slave. I was in no position to say no. You had to be there.”
I wish I had been….
So slave was required to take the picture that mistress forwarded to her new, Cyber Dom. It’s far too explicit for posting here. She’s naked, on her knees and elbows, butt exposed, well manicured nails spreading herself in submission.
A nice thank you gift for an orgasm well orchestrated.
Yesterday I sent an email to M thanking him for the extra titillation delivered to Mick and Molly on Sunday. What makes Molly happy always makes her Slave happy.
