Dinner Party?

Mistress’s Domme-ish behavior on Saturday afternoon, when she utilized her strap-on to good and potent effect, must have messed with my mind a bit.

I completely forgot to exercise my switch privileges yesterday, despite several choice opportunities. I suppose I was entranced in Sub-space longer than normal.

So when I finished my morning homework, I came upstairs and fell into bed with her, a tad horny from the fresh recollection of our activities the day before. Her warm body and the tight grip of her fingers on my cock erased any thoughts of tying her to the bed, or spanking her until her bottom glowed, that might otherwise have popped up. She even demurred on the “Power Tool” which I offered to deploy. So soon I was simply showing my devotion with head buried between her legs.

Afterwards, we took a long bike ride in the sunshine, the air still cool here in the morning. And then I was off to do some family visitations.

When I returned in early afternoon, Mistress was on our deck, working on her tan and reading the Times. But soon she was suggesting that we go upstairs for some indoor recreation.

As we undressed, Mistress said she was still working on scheduling her next meeting with Sir M. She was hoping to arrange a meet one evening this week when I am off on some work related travel. Something that would likely drive me to distraction while away from River City.

“You know, he asked whether he could visit me at my house sometime.”

Hmmm.

“Well, I guess it would have to be sometime when the girls are gone, or out of town.”

(Yes, that does happen sometime.)

“Of course, I told him that.”

But it also had me wondering where Slave fits in. Do I go bowling? To the movies?

“But where would I go, Mistress?”

“Wouldn’t it be interesting to have him over for dinner sometime?”

She clearly had contemplating my being close at hand. I was imagining myself cooking risotto, while Sir M chatted us up, a hand on Mistress’s ass. Exercising his rights to her. Argh.

This talk was having the exact effect Mistress no doubt desired. My cock was beginning to twitch. Verbal foreplay.

We climbed into bed, clutching one another, my fingers between her legs, fondling those smooth, squishy, cleanly shaven parts he liked her to display for him. My cock hardening against her silky thigh, so recently warming in the spring sunshine.

“So how would that work, Mistress?”

“Not sure, Slave….How do you think you would react?”

Good question.

How would Mistress want her Slave to react? All manly bristling. Defending her honor? Or passively and slavishly allowing events to unfold as her Dom and she desired. Is there some protocol or Miss Manners’ canned response for this type of delicate social situation?

“Well …. Mistress. You would have to give me pretty clear directions on how to behave. It would be an interesting dynamic …. he’s your Dom. He would expect you to follow his directions. Submit to his desires. And I would be your Slave, doing what you told me to do….I think.”

“Of course you would….you would do exactly what I said.”

“Yes, Mistress. Would I wear my cage?”

“Hmmmm …. We would have to think about that.”

“I think you want me to see him fuck you, Mistress.

“Yes, Slave. Wouldn’t that be interesting?

“But Why?”

“It would be so humiliating, wouldn’t it, Slave.”

“Oh, yes.”

It was around about this time that Mistress succumbed to my pumping fingers, gasping in a nicely explosive orgasm. Then she directed me to fuck her. That was an order I had no problem following.

What would they think?

Last night, Mistress and Slave attended a charity event that attracted a good chunk of River City’s gay and lesbian society set . A fun evening with goofy, over the top spring costumes. We stood out as sore thumbs among only a handful of the bland, vanilla couples.

I sipped a vodka and tonic and watched my charming wife commiserate with a very attractive female couple we have come to know. She shared a story with them about my comment when I saw an emailed photo of them with Molly. When it arrived, Mistress and I were lying together in bed over the Holidays (naked of course, a detail Mistress was sure to add).

I said something to the effect that the taller of the two was “stunning” (and she is). Mistress reported the comment, and acknowledged that she took some offense at the time. For me the truth was a defense. It was no different than our conversation about a recent photo spread of Grace Kelly in Vanity Fair. Wow!

But the acknowledgement of a classic beauty takes nothing away from the fact that Mistress is and always will be a knock out. She has been my my primo fetish object since I met her all the way back in 1987.

The two women laughed.

Mistress said, “I think he takes me for granted.”

They shook their heads. They knew better.

“Hardly, I grovel for her….”

They smiled, laughed again, one said, “I’m sure you do.”

Hopefully Mistress was paying attention.

The night evolved into lots of dancing to all those cliché gay anthems, from Cher to Leslie Gore and the rest, played by a cross dressed disk jockey who seemed reluctant to move for fear his poufy wig would hit the floor.

Watching the joyously writhing bodies, it was hard not to imagine how Mistress’s lesbian friends would react to the site of Mistress’s clean shaven cunt, and what they might do to make it perform its slutty tricks.

Would they be surprised to learn that this straight couple, who had not gotten the funny costume memo (or at least not taken it to heart) were over in the corner sharing comments on the latest email from her Dom, or trading observations on how this side relationship Mistress is cultivating makes both of them hot for one another too?

And what would they think if they had seen Mistress sporting her strap-on earlier that afternoon, reminding her Slave of his place?

Our morning had begun with a provocative email from Sir M, which Molly read to me when I returned from dropping a surly teen off for one of those dreaded college admissions exams.

As I recall the message, he noted his pleasure in how Mistress’s clit became engorged with blood as he massaged it on their last date. He asked for her comments on what she likes about his cock and his manner of fucking her with it.

These were notes that I could relate to. Now that the forest has been cut, its interesting to observe the “before” and “after” view of Mistress’s pink clit poking from between her paler lips. But why does the knowledge that he had been massaging my Mistress’s leaky cunt, and pushing her to an orgasm or four with fingers and cock turn me on too?

These words had clearly cranked up Mistress’s arousal in my absence. Fortunately it seemed she had waited for me to help her scratch this itch. So we were soon working our magic on one another, spending our passion before taking to the hills for a long bike ride.

Later that day, after some yard work for me, and a trip by Mistress to find a prom dress for a surly teen, Mistress reminded me it was time for a Saturday ritual that we had missed on our trip out west.

“It’s time for me to fuck you in the ass, Slave.”

I had showered and was lying on the bed, naked, ready for her, the way she likes.

Mistress took her time, assembling her tools and sliding into her harness. This was the sight that I wondered how her lesbian friends would react to….Would they invite her to “bring it on”, or would they like to use one on her? Probably both.

Mistress and I kissed and snuggled a bit. She likes me nice and hard before she takes me this way. And when she was ready….

“Tell me what you want, Slave?

“I think you know Mistress.”

“Remind me.”

With that, her grip tightened on a hardened cock.

‘Fuck, me in the Ass, Mistress.”

“Pardon?”

“Please, Mistress. Please fuck me in the Ass.”

I know, it sounds pathetic. But it’s our way.

She positioned me, a pillow under my hips to give her the right angle.

She needed a little help finding her target. It had been a few weeks.

And my ass seemed a bit tighter than normal. She filled and stretched me real good.

“You need this, don’t you Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Explain….”

She’s thrusting now. Hard to focus on a Q and A, but I try.

“It reminds me that …. I am yours, Mistress. That I …..that …you are in charge. You can take your pleasure from me as it pleases you….”

“Yes I can, Slave.”

She’s thrusting harder now, and then explodes against me. Is it the power, the angle, the leather harness pressing and rubbing against that highly exposed clit? Who knows, but this was a very big one.

As she comes down a bit, her body straightens and her thrusts get even harder, deeper. Ouch.

“Enough, Mistress”.

She responds, slowing then withdrawing. But she threatens punishment later….

“I don’t know that I like you telling me when you’ve had enough Slave.”

Point well taken.

Reflecting on this last night as the music swelled and the bodies bumped, I wondered what our fellow revelers would think about the “real” Mick and Molly.

Adjusting to that New Work Schedule

When your surly teens both have driver’s licenses, two cars are available, and it’s a Friday night, can’t parents at least expect that the house will be abandoned allowing more devious adult activities at the end of the work day?

Unfortunately, that was not the case at our house last night. Instead we seemed to have “helicopter” children last night, hovering around us, and making us use more discretion that would otherwise have been required.

Well of course we made due.

Driving home, I had the pleasure of parking my hand between Mistress’s legs, sliding a finger ever so gently along her slick black “work” panties.

At some point the discussion turned to her “friend”, who, somewhat untypically, had called her that afternoon, to comment on a slutty photo she had sent him via email. (Mistress asked me to help her select the photo the evening before – we settled on one that showed her ample and firm tits).

“What did he have to say, Mistress?”

“Oh….he told me he liked the photo, Slave.”

“No doubt”.

“He said maybe he should take some too….Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Well, I’m not sure you have much to say about it, Mistress.”

Mistress’s hand wandered to my crotch, as I kept my eyes on the slow moving rush hour traffic.

‘Does this talk make you horny, Slave?”

“I guess it does, Mistress”.

She could confirm that with her own fingers, which momentarily gripped my hardening cock. Argh.



Once home, we took a nice Bike ride in the sun shine, though cooler temperatures have prevailed here in River City these last few days.

We had contemplated going to a local wine bar for a “tasting” afterwards, but the tease I had “suffered” on the ride home had made me a bit more interested in tasting Mistress’s juices than some cheeky Oregon Pinots.

So we found ourselves in bed, my face buried between Mistress’s legs, my fingers using the Crystal cock to cause one of those sudden and convulsive orgasms that Mistress sometimes exhibits. And I was rewarded with an opportunity to slide the hard cock that had been pining for her into that needy little cunt. Ahhh.

After recuperating in bed for a while, we made a picnic dinner, and settled into watch “The Blind Side” on PPV. It was painful to watch the opening scene, when the Giants break Joe Thiesman’s leg one more time (I am old enough to have watched him play in college), amusing to see the suburban southern belle cloths they crammed Sandra Bullock’s bottom into, and distressing to see what passes for an Oscar winning performance these days. But at least we had not paid for tickets at the theatre.

Since my interest in the movie was somewhat less than compelling, I would have gladly sat as Mistress’s feet, and suckled her toes and then her cunt while she watched. Butthe teens kept wandering in and out, demanding car keys, or rattling off their needs for Saturday, so we kept it righteous and reserved until the movie’s inspirational ending.

By now it was getting late, and at this time on a Friday night, after “doing it” once already, we might normally settle into bed with a good book and defer our next “activity” until morning….but ….Mistress was feeling frisky, and so was her Slave.


Maybe it was our ongoing dialog about her interest in Sir M’s cock, and her slutty behavior in his presence, but it did not take long for Mistress’s supple fingers to produce one more raging hard on, and for her juices to freely flow. And we were at it again….

I guess we have figured a way to adapt to Mistress’s new work schedule after all.

Slave's Cross-Exam

Mistress’s new downtown job may be cutting into our early morning encounters (still adjusting the body clock here), but it’s made for some more quality time together.

She was able to break away from her Mad(wo)Man activities yesterday around noon for some worship in my office. My cock strained against the cage she had locked on, as I knelt to suck on her clean shaven cunt, her legs wrapping themselves around my neck as I brought her to a nice, writhing climax against my mouth. She commented on how her little bud so clearly swells between her lips when I am done, so obvious and glistening with all that hair gone.

Then we had a pleasant lunch at a nearby café where she regaled me with some more details of her tryst the night before.

“I think he may have been the person who left that comment, Slave?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, about taking my bottom while you watched.”

I remembered the comment. Something to the effect of “have you ever had Molly up the ass, Mick?” and suggesting it might be good for me to watch Molly’s Dom do that, knowing that it was a privilege I have not exercised (or been granted).

It’s not something Molly is into (at least not so far). And her cunt is amply tight for my needs.  But let’s go on with the dialog:

“What makes you think it was him, Mistress?”

“Well …. When he bent me over the bed and took me from behind ….he kind of …well…commented that  he should do it to me that way….”

Mistress (believe it or not) seemed to be blushing now….it’s good she can be open about all this  with me. Actually it would not work at  all with out that openness.

“And what did you say Mistress?”

“Well….that it’s not something I am really into ….and that if my cunt is as tight as he claims it is….what’s the point?”

But I must say it seemed to excite Mistress …. The threat of giving up that piece of virginal territory.

By now, this Slave was getting a little tight inside the cage, and I shifted the  conversation shifted to more vanilla topics.

But the debriefing continued later that evening, when we finally finished our nightly chores and the surly teens were off to bed.

I had worshipped Mistress once with my eager lips before dinner. Now my fingers found my way to her smooth and slick cunt as I sidled up against her, kissing her hard and long.

Breaking the kiss, we went back to my “cross-exam”, enhanced with certain techniques developed over years of experience.

“So lets go back to what happened after your outside dinner, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave?”

By now Mistress was squirming against my fingers.

“So had you gotten all dressed after your activity in his bedroom.”

“Yes Slave.”

“Even your underwear?”

“Ummm….yes. “

I surmised that Mistress must have thought her sexual activity was done for the night.

“So after your dinner, did he require you to suck his cock, Mistress”.

“Yes, Slave, he did….how does that make you feel?”

“A bit jealous ….but in a constructive way, Mistress.”

“How so?”

Some how I had lost the initiative on this cross-exam. My fingers picked up the pace.

“Well….I guess it makes me competitive…wants me to please you more, and better, Mistress.”

“That’s good…..I hope you don’t mind that I am making you work at this a bit harder than normal, Slave.”

I was working her  hard with my fingers now. Could sense she was getting very close….but resisting the pull of her cunt.

“Did you make him hard with your mouth, Mistress?”

“I suppose so, but he was already pretty hard.”

“Did you like that, Mistress.”

“Oh yes, Slave.”

“You like being his slut, don’t you?”

“Yes….I suppose I do…”

“Did he make you kneel to suck him?”

“No. I was sitting in a chair. He stood. Opened his pants. Came to me…”

“And then, Mistress.”

“Well….that’s when he pushed me over the table….he fucked me again, from behind.”

“And did he make you come, Mistress?”

“Oh, Yes , Slave. I guess that’s why I was a little late coming home …he decided to take me one more time.”

My mind was filled with an image of my elegeant Mistress, panties yanked off, dress flipped up over her ass, panting and begging to come as she is bent over this suburban picnic table. Excruciatingly erotic.

As Mistress finally surrendered to my pumping fingers, she gasped and thrust against my hand, plunging over the edge..

“You’re thinking of him fucking you, aren’t you, Mistress….”

“Yes  …. and you too, Slave. You watching him do it to me.”

By now I was desperate for her, my cock hard without the need for her fingers or mouth. It had been a long day of denial. So as I mounted her, I mentally filed away my cross-examination outline for another day.