Mistress's Stereo Stimulation

With only about 4 hours of sleep, Molly and Mick woke to a spectacular morning out here in our undisclosed location. Still groggy, the sun and vistas drew us out to our patio, a bit overgrown with weeds fostered by the spring run-off.

I brewed us some coffee, and when I brought two cups outside, I found Mistress spread across a chaise, still quite naked, her I-phone in hand.

“I sent M some photos, Slave. To show him what he is missing.”

“And what did you show him, Mistress?”

“The Mountains, of course. And a shot of my cunt too.”

“Cruel …. You are such a tease Mistress. But I’m sure it looked good in the morning sunlight.”

Soon we were back in bed. It had been almost 36 hours for Slave. That’s a long time for me, and I was already pretty horny. And the thought of Mistress teasing her long distance Master so wantonly had a little more fuel to my fire.

In bed, I used my used lips and tongue to bring Mistress to her first orgasm of the morning. And, to tell the truth, I would have been happy to plunge into her then and there for a quick and dirty fuck to cut the edge on my desire.

But Mistress had other things in mind.

“I want to taste my cock, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She has gotten very good over the last few months at driving me crazy with tongue and fingers . Maybe it was her experience with Sir M, her starter Dom, who liked her on her knees servicing him before he decided how to fuck her. Or it could be all the fantasy talk she’s had with Master M about how he would / will require her to please him. Whatever the inspiration, I am glad to be the beneficiary.

Within a few minutes she had me reduced to an all too pathetic whimpering and craven state, making me beg her repeatedly for the right to fuck her.

When she finally relented, she pushed me onto my back.

“I’m going to ride you for a while Slave. Remember, no coming until I give you permission.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

At this point I seem so well programmed that I don’t think I can come without her permission.

She began a slow and relentless process of grinding her way to the type of orgasm built only with care, patience and a single minded purpose.

And all I could do was provide the very hard cock. And a little chit chat along the way.

“M thinks that I let you come too often, Slave.”

Hmmm. This could be a little unnerving.

“Maybe I should make you wait 2 or 3 more days, Slave. What do you think?”

“He should talk. What with fucking B and jerking off with you, he seems to get off 3 or 4 times a day.”

“Well he is the Master…. But he says it’s very hot and powerful to make you wait between orgasms.”

“I can’t argue with that, Mistress.”

Well you can imagine what this talk was doing to me. And Mistress’s fingers caressing my balls as she rode me, setting her own tempo, was certainly pressing the edge of my will power.

Fortunately, after Mistress came with a nifty explosion of shudders and moans, she seemed to lose focus on her thoughts about orgasm denial, and she allowed me to mount her and, at long last, come with her consent.

The resulting shock and awe left me depleted. I drifted off for a while before the sun shining through our window rejuvenated us enough to begin our day anew.

There was some weedwacking to do, and a long, exhilarating bike ride past pastures and flowing irrigation ditches.

Later, around noon, I had to go down to negotiate the renewal of our little used post office box with the local Post Mistress. She is a short, stocky woman who’s authority in this little village is absolute and uncompromising.

She probably has a riding crop tucked away behind the counter.

She required me to return for more documentation to confirm that, yes, we really are citizens entitled to receive mail. But I elected to take a lunch break before re-engaging with the Post Mistress.

Muffin and beverage in hand, I found Mistress lounging on our patio, back on the chaise. Naked. Phone to her ear.


“Ahhh….here’s my Slave. I’m talking to M, Slave….he’s at work. But he’s giving us … instructions.”

I had a feeling that the muffin I had just bitten into would have to wait.

“He says you are to get on your knees and worship.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I retrieved a pillow, to save my knees from the hard bricks and red ants, and assumed my assigned position in this little tableau.

“He’s down there, M. Ummmm…. Nice.”

It was nice for me too. Mistress’s lovely parts were already quite damp from sunscreen and her natural juices. A lovely taste and aromatic treat for me, bringing back memories of teenaged lust on New Jersey beaches during the reign of LBJ.

As I looked up, tongue still at work as her hips squirmed to the beat of my ministrations, I saw Mistress’s eyes screwed shut, focused on whatever it was M was murmuring into her ear.

And there was the sound of her voice, thick with arousal, responding to him. Egging him on.

“Yes, M. I want you to do that to me….”

“Oh….yes. that would be amazing.”

“Does this turn you on, M?

“Yes….I’ve been imagining that…..”

Soon Mistress was pumping in desperation against my mouth, her free hand reaching down to press my face harder against her….as she was moaning her pleasure into the phone. With a sudden convulsion, she came once, so very deliciously in response to his command.

But I had not yet been relieved of my duties, so I continued on, with my own relentless devotions.

I could tell he was still spinning some type of dark and delicious fantasy for her, but her responses were incoherent now, as she built herself to yet another, even more enthusiastic climax.

“Oh God, M. I just came again….enough Slave.”

Her hand weakly pressed against my forehead, urging me to back off.

“Is that OK with him, Mistress.”

I did not want to be party to insubordination. Not that this little drama would get any Rolling Stone coverage. That’s become more of a family magazine with the passing of Dr. Thompson.

“He wants to know if he can stop, M.”

“Yes…Slave. He says I’ve had enough….and he has to get back to work.”

Relieved of my command, I slid back, and brushed some errant muffin crumbs off Mistress’s sodden and swollen parts.

Later, when it was time for me to collect my reward, I asked Mistress if she enjoyed her stereo sexual stimulation – with me at her clit and M at her ear.

She just smiled.

“What’s not to like, Slave. ….And, by the way, could you go get the Hitachi. I don’t think I’ve had that since Tuesday night.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Road Trip

We finally arrived at an airport in the great SW, about a three hour trip from our undisclosed location.

It was past midnight. A three hour drive to our mountain hideaway was in store.

That was Mountain time.

So, as a practical matter, Molly and Mick were pulling an all-nighter.  Our ETA would be about 5 am back in River City.

So how to keep this lively enough to avoid nodding off in some mountain pass?

“Mistress, I think you should take off your pants.”

“Hmmm…that sounds like a good idea Slave.”

She slid them off, parking them somewhere at her feet in out rented Nissan.

The moon was almost full, lighting the high dessert, moonlight dancing off the sage brush and chamisa.

And as I drove, my fingers were roving Mistress’s clean shaven cunt. Keeping her on the edge.

But she was really too sleepy to cross over that edge.

Yet, toying with Mistress, keeping her squirming, inhaling her aroma and occasional licking her juices from my fingers,   helped me stay awake along those moonlit mountain roads, as we wound our way to our destination.

“Wish there was a car adapter for the Hitachi, Mistress.”

“Ummm….”, she groggily responded, “that would be nice, Slave.”

“We could call it a Car-tachi.”

Mistress thought that was clever. She emailed M our idea.

And we talked about our strange, three way relationship to pass the time.

“So why do you think this is OK, Slave. I certainly wouldn’t stand for it.”

“You mean you wouldn’t like me fondling myself to orgasm while talking with some person I met over the internet? While he was riding his bike?

“When you put it that way, It does sound strange, Slave.”

“Mistress, I am cool with it, because it makes you happy and hot….who can argue with that.”

In case you are wondering, we made it to our little hideaway.  We finally crashed around 3:30 am Mountain time. And we were too spent for sex.

The horror.

But we made up for it Friday, as you shall learn with tomorrow’s update.

Now it’s off to a bizarre lounge lizard performance in an ancient Cantina.

Oops!

Molly and Mick are headed to our undisclosed location in the great southwest for a week of child free vacation.  We invited our Western Correspondent to join us, with or without the mysterious B. But, alas, it seems he is unavailable. Maybe next time.

But Mistress did report an interesting conversation today that I hereby add to the annals of our amusing interactions for our readers' diversion.

It went something like this, as we were driving through ehavy River City traffic to get to the airport for our escape.

"M had a bike accident today, Slave....while we were talking on the phone."

"Huh...how did that happen?"

"Well, one minute we were talking...and then he was suddenly cut off."

"You were talking while he was riding his bike?"

"Yes, Slave ....he calls me sometimes when he's riding his bike to his office."

(I know, This is sounding like an Irish Spring commercial. Manly, yes. But kind of stupid too. )

"So, anyway, when he called back, he said he had an accident. Broke his mirror."

"Crazy, Mistress. we're you talking about something smutty?"

"Hmmm...I think we were."

I could imagine M being a little distracted by their sex chat, then losing control as he tries to entice Mistress to paw herself in some wanton way.

"Hope he's OK, Mistress. You don't want to lose him to some semi-tractor before you get a chance to ride his cock, do you?"



Mistress agreed, but was reassuring.

"He seemed OK when we talked later, Slave."

Maybe our Western Correspondent needs to park his bike before commencing his sex chat in the future.

HNT/ Whos's Pulling the Strings?

Slave got home a bit earlier than his Mistress after work yesterday.

There was some lawn mowing to be done and it was the hottest, skankiest day of the summer. But we are heading out to some dryer mountain air this evening, and this was a task that could not wait until our return.

By the time Mistress got home, I was dripping, but my job was done.

The plan was a bike ride to our pool, where Mistress would do her laps and I would soak away the grime then read the Times. Maybe even a nap was in store.

But when Mistress walked in, all fresh and commanding in a black top and pants from her day at the office, she had other instructions.

“Uhhh…Slave. I have been talking to M and he’s given me some …..instructions to follow.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

I suspected this could be an interesting diversion.

“When he heard you were out mowing, I think he felt a little sorry for you. He told me to command you to come inside, strip for me, and that I was supposed to ride your cock….’ride it hard’ he said.”

“Well, I’m already inside, Mistress….but I thought you wanted to go to the pool?”

I could tell Mistress was a bit conflicted. She did want some exercise….but she felt some strange need to follow his directions.

And I must say I liked being the little puppet in their game.

“Why don’t you strip slave. Then lay down and get it hard for me ….NOW.”

I snapped to….sliding out of my sodden T-shirt, and shorts.

“I am a little gamey, Mistress….are you sure you want me this way.”

“Oh, I think that’s what he had in mind, Slave.”

I lay down, and began to touch my cock. It’s not a privilege I usually have these days. And the thought that Mistress was compelling me, because he was compelling her ….well that was no hindrance.

She looked at me as she was shedding her work attire, and taking off her face paint.

“Get it hard for me, Slave. I don’t want to have to take the time to do it myself.”

“It won’t be a problem, Mistress.”

Naked, she approached our bed.

I had a sense that Mistress was acting out their little fantasy as she unceremoniously straddled me, and let her already moist cunt swallow the product of my efforts.

I guess this was not one of those encounters where foreplay was de rigeur.

“Good job, Slave”, she murmured as she rode me. “Now put your hands on my hips ….”

I knew how to follow orders, using my grip to pull her even closer to me.

She rode me for several minutes before exploding with a moan, then rolling off me to allow me to mount her for a while. All that cock riding can wear on a Mistress.

It had been a long day at work, And I was enjoying this unexpected engagement. So I was in no hurry, and began a slow and relaxed fucking of my seemingly (at least for now) contented Mistress.

I enjoy hearing the little sounds she makes as I take her this way, playing with a nipple , or maybe backing off a bit to allow my fingers to toy with her clit, driving her up and over to another orgasm that way.

But in the midst of all that, as we talked about a fantasy M had sent her earlier in the day (involving him taking her over her desk in her office), Mistress surprised me:

“I want to ride your cock some more Slave. Roll over. ”

Hmmm. M had really gotten under her skin today.

Soon she was back on top of me again, making like Teddy Roosevelt assaulting San Juan Hill in his Roughrider days. .

“I think you’re imagining riding M’s cock now, Mistress.”

“Does that bother you, Slave?”

“No, Mistress…on evening’s like these I am happy to serve as his surrogate….”

When Mistress finally came this time it was one of those sobbing classics that had her face all red as she held back her tears, shaking with her pleasure. I rolled her over carefully, and finished the job that way, thankful for the privilege of providing that handy, dandy surrogate cock in her time of need.

And there was still a little daylight left for that bike ride.