Molly and Mick had a way overscheduled Saturday: fancy lunchoen in downtown River City, then a baseball game with some friend. Yes, we did squeeze in some rewarding sex when we woke, but not the type that cried out for documentation here.
But today is another day ... and it's our switch day. The surly teens are off at "sleepovers". This could present an opportunity for me to press some of the buttons that make Mistress loudly express both her (temporary) pain and her pleasure. So stay tuned....
When Mistress visited me at my office yesterday she had a surprise.
She had an early conference call that morning. So I knew that I was unlikely to get the privilege of fucking her. Instead, I slid under the sheets as she read yesterday morning’s entry, and proceeded to please her with my tongue.
I really can’t get enough of that particularly sweet taste now that her Dom requires her to go hairless. So this was as much for my benefit as hers. And when she put down the laptop, and focused on what I was up to, it did not take her long to go over the top and take her pleasure, bucking against my devouring mouth.
But then she was up and to the showers.
“Sorry, Slave….”
“No problem Mistress. I’m a big boy. I think I can wait until this evening.”
Later as I took my shower, my mind drifted back to our morning’s activity, some of the things she had mentioned about her evening earlier this week with her Dom, and my cock began to thicken….argh.
I touched it - one long stroke - and it was …. needy. But I knew better. It took some will power to remind myself that I no longer had permission for such things. I tried to mentally focus on more mundane matters – the meeting with a client I had scheduled. Soon things were back under control.
By the time we were driving to work, and Mistress’s crossed ankles and naked feet were stretched out onto the dash, with my hand resting high on her soft and freshly moisturized thigh, I was beginning to regret my impressive self-discipline. It would be a long day. I mentioned to Mistress that I was a more than a bit horny for her.
“Oh…poor Slave. (can you hear the playful sarcasm).You will just have to wait.”
A well manicured finger slid oh so lightly across my pants, just below the belt line. And like some foolish rodent out of a Pavlovian experiment, I was jerking to attention.
But that was all from Mistress fingers. She wisely let me focus on my driving duties.
Mistress made it a little harder for me just before lunch time.
She stopped by for some worship between meetings, and the ritual changed a bit. I placed her throne against the door (there is no lock), but before she slid her black panties down, she reached for my belt.
“Huh?”
“You said you were horny, Slave…remember.”
Soon my pants and underwear were around my ankles, and Mistress was leaning over, her mouth open and taking in my cock.
“Is this how he makes you perform, Mistress?”
Mistress’s lips parted long enough to mumbling an assent.
I was imagining her naked, seated on his bed, and him presenting a cock for her ministrations. And of course by now, mine was hard and longing.
But it’s hard for me to focus on such things in my office. I was all dressed up in my blue suit, dress shirt and tie, to attend a civic leader’s funeral that afternoon.
So when Mistress suggested we clear my desk and that I take her there and then, I reluctantly demurred.
Was it the commotion in the hallway or the unlocked door? Or was I just too fussy about messing up my funeral costume with all that sweat and goop sure to be generated? It had me a little too angsty to perform for her.
Mistress laughed at my reluctance.
“Don’t say I didn’t offer, Slave.”
She gave me a rain check.
Hopefully her feelings were not hurt. Instead She spread her legs, slid down her panties and I knelt there for her, my pants still at my ankles. My cock still firm, but knowing I would have to wait until later.
After lunch, and before I headed to the funeral, I got an email from out western correspondent, M. Mistress had clearly texted him about my foolish decision. (She does like to tease M, as much as he enjoys teasing her.)
“Mick, I’m shocked ….propriety at last. Molly said she asked you to fuck her but you didn’t want to get messy. I’m Shocked. Very funny.”
Now I had let down both Mistress and our most devoted fan. Though I must say it gave me a buzz to think of Mistress sharing my refusal to perform with her partner in flirtation.
But there is a happy ending. We came home to an empty house, and after a nice sweaty bike ride, had some nice sweaty time in bed before dinner.
And later, after dinner and an episode of the Pacific, I could not help but ask for permission to taste Mistress one more time. And my tasting led to a firm cock, which she pumped with her hand until my pitiful whimpering and begging made her sympathetic to my pleas to fuck her one more time.
And as we fucked, I took the opportunity for a little more Q and A from her Tuesday evening with Sir M:
“I forgot to mention in the blog the other day that once he had you handcuffed and blindfolded , lying there on his bed, he fed you his cock…”
“Yes, I noticed that Slave….why didn’t you mention that?”
“I think I got lost in the narrative…. But was that a surprise when he did that?”
”Yes….with the blindfold, it was hard to tell what would happen next.”
“was he holding your arms down, over your head.”
“Ummmm ….yes Slave.”
How did that make you feel, Mistress.”
“Controlled ….very submissive.”
“And did it turn you on….to have that cock filling your mouth?”
“Yes Slave…it did.”
“And were his fingers buried in your cunt as you sucked his cock, Mistress?”
My thrusts were quickening now, and Mistress was getting close to another climax.
“Yes, Slave…he was playing with me … with his fingers …. as I sucked him.”
“And did he make you come that way, as you pleasured him with your mouth, Mistress.”
“Yes ….I did …Slave ….he made me come that way.”
I surmised that there was no begging involved, her mouth full and all, and soon my pumping had her over the top, and then me begging for my own permission.
Mistress has been a very busy worker bee this week, but found some time to stop by for a visit to my office yesterday, and she was in a particularly playful mood.
She has been receiving occasional and somewhat flirtatious messages from our western correspondent, M, which she has shown to me to get my own juices flowing. And her somewhat salacious responses to M show that Mistress is keen to give as good as she gets.
So when she arrived at my office, and I was pulling her “throne” up against my door, she pulled out her I-Phone.
“Maybe we should send M some photos, Slave.”
“Oh I am sure he would like that. What did you have in mind?”
Mistress sat on the chair, which I had covered with a blanket we use for these purposes. No point in getting the upholstery all wet and sticky.
“How about the Domme’s view as you kneel and lick me, Slave?”
I blushed a bit, considering how the top of my balding head would look from above, planted between Mistress’s spread thighs. But of course, if I objected on those grounds it would only encourage her. I tried a bit of misdirection instead.
I was on my knees now, peering at Mistress’s lovely, clean shaven parts.
“I could take a Slave’s eye view of your cunt, Mistress. That would really drive him crazy.”
She gave me that look, like I was crazy.
“No way is he getting that, Slave.”
Of course, I suspect that if Molly and M ever got together, M would get (or should I say take) a whole lot more.
“How about one of your ankle with those black panties draped around it.”
That’s where Mistress’s panties had ended up, draped around her right ankle, her legs spread wide for me as my head ducked down to taste her. Yum. She was already wet and quite delicious. All this talk, and the thought of a pictorial sharing of our office ritual, had already gotten Mistress’s juices flowing. There is no small part exhibitionist in my lovely sex goddess.
“Good idea, Slave.”
As I lapped and sucked at her, pulling her lit red bud out between those swollen pink lips with my lips and teeth, I could hear the faux shutter snap sound of Mistress’s i-phone. And then one leg and then another wrapped over my shoulders pulling me closer to her. Her cunt was particularly needy today.
She came with a sudden shudder and some ragged breathing as she tried to avoid sharing the sounds of her pleasure with my office mates. But her legs held me in tightly between her legs. I was buried between her legs, almost struggling to breath as I sucked with a renewed determination.
“Keep going, Slave. I don’t think we are done just yet.”
More snapping. More sucking. Then another convulsion against my laboring lips.
“That was ….good, Slave.”
Her legs slowly relaxed, then freed me, and I slid back. All of this had made my cock particularly hard. But I knew that it would have to wait until later for the attention it craved.
Mistress giggled as she stood and thumber her way through the photos she had snapped as I worshipped. The one above was my favorite, and she sent it to M via text message. But she also sent the more humiliating shots too, featuring my balding head, and her leg draped over and around my neck.
M had a virtual ringside seat to our little worship session, and now our other readers do too.
Mistress is better at dates than I am. She’s a Democrat but has a memory like an Elephant/Republican.
Yesterday she reminded me it was the 22nd anniversary of our first sexual encounter (well she put it less delicately). Now that is an interesting story, worth sharing with all of our readers sometime. And what is the most stunning fact is that we are still at it, hotter and with more frequency than ever.
And no, despite Mistress’s sleek and youthful appearance, as documented by the attached photo taken during our Sunday session, I was not violating any laws about sex with minors that evening 22 years ago….
But I know from the howls of outrage we heard from at least one reader yesterday, you want to know what happened the other evening with Mistress and her Dom. Indeed, yesterday morning, as I used my mouth to pleasure Molly, and she read the blog, she laughed a bit at the abrupt ending …
“Ah, a cliffhanger.”
And when our western correspondent, M, called her on her dreary ride to the state capitol (yet again) yesterday morning, he pumped her for details. She simply put it off to me. Apparently she did not want to scoop this morning’s entry.
So let me pick up where I left off….
Mistress had a long day. The drive to and from our flat state capitol, then her delayed engagement with her Dom. But when she finally got home, around 10 pm or so, she seemed, well, refreshed. And very sexy in a black business dress, naked but nicely tanned legs, with stylish black pumps.
And she had that well fucked smile on her as she allowed me to greet her with a hig and a kiss.
Upstairs in our room, she was kind enough to offer to unlock my cage before doing all those preparations a glamorous sex goddess must do before hitting the pillow.
And that was a relief, in and of itself. Once freed of the ring and the metal enclosure, my cock began some stretching exercises of it’ own with little more than the stimulation that came from the night’s imaginations and the image of Mistress shedding that black dress.
In fact, she asked me to help her unzip, and I was happy to, letting my lips caress her back as I slowly ran the zipper down.
“Did he help you with this earlier, Mistress?”
“No Slave, I had to do it myself when he asked me to strip for him.”
But Mistress had warned me that morning…
“I think by the time I get home I am going to be too tired for sex, Slave. So be patient and be prepared to wait until morning.”
I figured I could handle that, but by now I was not so sure.
After what seemed like an hour, but was only a matter of minutes, Mistress settled into bed. I folded up against her, trying to avoid the potential frustration of pressing my hardening cock against her flanks. A finger settled on the clean shaven, and still a bit moist parts between her legs. Ah, she was back to me.
And she knew what I wanted to hear, the sordid details of her evening out.
She had that coy smile again.
“Well he used the handcuffs, Slave. And the blindfold.”
Argh.
I try to be cool on these occassions, and not immediately unleash a barrage of questions. Quite frankly, I don’t want to appear desperate for the details, or make Mistress feel that she can’t cling to the inherent mystery that naturally enshrouds any intimate relationship between two people.
But I do like the details (apparently some of our readers do as well). So I go about it slowly, like some horny Columbo, without the trench coat.
“I know you are tired, Mistress. But can I simply taste your cunt. I like to see if it tastes …different.”
Of course, what I meant is ‘can I taste the remnants of your Dom’s fingers and cock on you.’
“You may, Slave.”
I settled in between her legs, tongue gently probing, sliding across her delicate parts.
“Do I taste different, Slave?”
“Some…”
“How, Slave.”
“Oh, a little ..used…a bit gamier…like you have had some sex, then got dressed and came home to me, Mistress.”
Of course, there was no reason for her to wash away the evidence, was there.
Mistress reached down to feel my hard cock. And of course it was frustratingly hard. I simply squirmed and let out a pathetic moan as her fingers slowly trailed along the length of it.
“Oh, poor Slave. I will let you fuck me, but I may not be too energetic.”
My pathos had worked. And of course by now I would have been happy to fuck her if she was passed out.
Luckily she was still awake, and could answer a few more questions as I mounted her and took my time to fuck her properly.
“Did he kiss you when you arrived, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. He always does.”
“And how does he handle you with that kiss?”
“Well his hands roam Slave. To my breasts. My cunt. He really likes my breasts.”
“And does that turn you on Mistress? Does it make you wet?”
She giggles a bit, as I slide against her.
“What do you think, Slave?”
As I continued to slowly take my pleasure from Mistress, she filled in more details in response to my questions…he fixed her a drink, and let her come down from her long day with some small talk and a tour of his yard project….but then it was down to business.
“And then, Mistress?”
He told me to go upstairs and strip for him, Slave. That he would join me in a few moments and expected me to be prepared for him.”
“And you followed his orders?”
“Of course, Slave.”
“And did you call him ‘Sir’?”.
“Yes Slave. What else would I call him?”
By now I was getting impatient, in several ways. I wanted to hear the story. I also wanted to come…but I needed to put the breaks on the latter until the story was done.
“And so he joined you in the bedroom?
“Yes, I was ready for him. Naked.”
“Did he appreciate that naked cunt he requires?”
“Well he really didn’t mention it. I think he’s used to it.”
And what happened next, Mistress?”
“The handcuffs, Slave. And the Blindfold.”
“How did he put on the cuffs, Mistress? In front? In back?”
In front. He had me lay on the bed then, my hands over my head.”
She described how he used his fingers to explore her body, as one hand held her hands over her head.
“He squeezed and sucked my nipples, Slave. He loves my breasts. He made me come with his hand ….”
And as she squirmed under me, and as I pumped into her, I imagined my Mistress, controlled, writhing, and submitting to this other man’s desires.
It was about then that I asked Mistress for permission to come. I really could not hold off any longer. And she generously consented. No doubt she was a bit tired of being fucked, so my explosive release probably came as a relief to her too.
And as we came down, Mistress in my arms, she finished the story for me. She described how he fucked her after a good bit of teasing and frustration, her legs over his shoulders.
“Did he keep the cuffs on you, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. He did for a while.”
“How did that feel Mistress?”
“Good Slave. Like I was his prisoner. “
“I am surprised he didn’t decide to keep you.”
She just shivered. Cuddling closer to me. I was glad she had her adventure, and even even more delighted that she had come home to me.
