Tease and (Semi)Denial

Mistress and slave woke up yesterday morning under the WC's "orgasm embargo". And when I awoke there was even some additional instructions from Mike via text message:

"Make sure you tease her for a long time this morning."

Always a cooperative soul, I did my best to taunt and tease Mistress with my fingers, lips and tongue as she read the blog, always making sure to ease off if it seems she was getting close to her edge.

"That's mean, slave......"

"Only following orders, Mistress....."

But when I acted as if I was done with the teasing and was moving onto another task she surprised me.

"Aren't you going to fuck me, slave....."

"But what about the embargo, Mistress.....?"

"If you're careful I won't cum, slave.....it just doesn't seem fair that you have to be embargoed to."

True, the WC's embargo edict did not mention me. And who was I to turn down to  generous offer. If anything, some good,  but gentile,  fucking would only enhance my mission of tease and denial.

So it was done.

As the day progressed from breakfast, to bike ride, to a marginal eclipse, to a mission to the grocery for some dinner supplies, the tension built.  Were the WC and B actually coming?  So it seemed.  And Mistress was getting a little nervous.

"How do you think this will go, slave?

"Who knows, Mistress...."

As it turned out, things are going well.  Clearly B was a little nervous too, though the two ladies of the manors seemed to have hit it off immediately as we chatted on our porch over beverages.

Slave cooked up some salmon and other fixings and we enjoyed one another company, sharing stories of past exploits.  Mistress even handicapped her various lovers and their prospects for the future.

As dinner concluded, B excused herself for what she described as a brief lay down after a long work and travel day.

As it turned out she was done for the night.

But Mistress and the WC were hardly done.

We retreated to the living room area, where Mistress sat on a couch next to Mike. His hands had trouble keeping to themselves, and were soon wandering up Mistress's firm and tan thighs. (I think she was glad she wore that black thigh draping short dress.

"So you wore panties for me, Molly?"

He couldn't hep but expose. And Mistress seemed to enjoy the attention.

Not long after that, Slave volunteered to go to bed. But after some negotiation, Mistress and Mike took our bedroom, and slave remained in the living room.  Soon there were sounds of delight, and Mistress's moans emanating through thin walls.

At some point they came up for air, and rejoined me in the living room. Mike checked on B.  Mistress updated me on their progress.

"We were just fooling around slave..... no actual sex yet."

While Mistress had sampled the "special occasion cock", and had enjoyed several cums by way of Mike's clever fingers, they were deferring any actual copulation until it was clear that B gave the green light.

At that point I really did go to bed, leaving the two long lost lovebirds on the couch in the living room. Before Mistress joined me in bed, there was another round of hanky panky.  After some chit chat (that I could hear through the wall) went silent, it was replaced by more rustling and moaning from Mistress out on the couch.

When she finally slipped into bed next to me, I got a brief update.

"Mike says to tell you I came another five times, slave....."

Poor Mistress.

Let's see how things develop today.

Whack-a-Cock

In my role as IT Manager of UCTMW World Enterprises I was recently called into service.

"Slave.... my laptop needs help!"

Mistress has one of those oh so slender Apple laptops. Cute. Comfy to carry. But it's memory capacity is less than robust. Every now and then it rebels under the weight of "too much stuff" (not unlike our attic) and the apps she needs to use refuse to open.  It then falls upon her loyal Slave to find things to "trash",  just like I did recently in the non virtual world when we "downsized".

Except in this case, instead of old Life magazines and high school logo sweat shirts, I had to pry into Mistress's laptop's nooks and crannies and find apps and files that were old, moldy and no longer needed, then consign them to the trash.

That's when I started finding all those photos of the WC's special occasion cock, in various states of "anger" or repose.

"Hmmmm..... I thought we already got rid of these, Mistress....."

"I swear I went through my I-photos and deleted them .... 4 or 5 of each....."

It seems that cock shots replicate like lemmings once they take up residence on a laptop.

Of course, this went back to the days when Mistress and the WC traded more than pithy snark in the comments section. And to be fair to the WC, I also found stuffed into Mistress's hard drive any number of photos of Mistress's clean shaven folds, with or without hitachi attached, which she must have tossed off in the WC's direction as a sort of kinky reciprocity.

I think those even made Mistress blush a bit when I pointed them out before sliding them into the trash file.

So those of you who think you've diligently purged all the smut from your laptop or PDA, before passing it onto a son, daughter or pal, think again.

Old cock shots don't die. They don't even fade away. They lurk forever in some crevice in your hard drive, ready to spring to life when you least expect it. (Cue the theme music from "Jaws").

The only real remedy may be an industrial strength trash compacter.

Or your nearby river.

Maybe my next career should be X-rated computer cleaner.

I bet I could get one heck of an hourly rate.