It’s midnight Saturday.
I am cuddled next to Mistress.
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?
