Mistress Haunts My Dreams

It was one of those busy Saturdays here in River City.

But not Mundane.

There was the morning sex, after a more leisurely read of the morning papers. No hurray to get up and out early.

Mistress allowed me to worship her succulent folds with  lips and tongue to a nice hip jerking series of mini-orgasms.   Then she taunted my cock with her fingers until I was doing the hip jerking, begging her for permission to fuck her. 

She ultimately relented, of course, merciful Mistress that she is to me.

We took our bike ride in brisk clear air. The leaves are still brilliant here, but beginning to fall.

Then I was off to collect my cute little grandchild, ply him with gelato, and bring him home for some playtime. He even “helped” me rake some leaves, if you call whacking the pile of leaves with a stick “help”..

Mistress took the teens for their group manicure, and a trip to Costco. (The Western Correspondent has turned Mistress on to the benefits of Costco, among other less mercenary things.)

When I arrived home from dropping off the little darling for his nap, Mistress was out sunning herself on the deck, signing off from some telephone chat with the Western Correspondent.

“Did he make you come, Mistress?”

“No, Slave…. He was at Costco too. He texted me there and said we should talk before his big golf game….”

Mistress and M do like to be in touch regularly, which seems to be a good outlet for both of them.  As I settled down next to Mistress to read a bit in the late afternoon sun, Mistress talked a little more about her chat.

“M’s always concerned that you get miffed about what goes on between us, Slave.”

I snorted.

“You know I’m cool with it, Mistress.”

“That’s what I tell him, Slave.”

And I AM cool with it.

My prime directive is to see Mistress happy.

Her relationship with M is important to Mistress.

It makes her happy.

It not only gives her lots of bonus orgasms, but also gives her someone to vent to about life’s ups and downs. No doubt some of the venting is about me – but I can be high maintenance. Even annoying. My sense is that M gives her good and useful words of advice on how to manage her occasional frustrations with me.

Though I think she “spares the rod” more than M would advise.

While I watched my alma mater have a rare laugher on the gridiron, Mistress rested a bit, likely with visions of M’s special occasion cock dancing in her horny little head.

Then we were off to see the new Woody Allen movie. A worthy watch for those of you who are fans.  Afterwards, over tequilla and Jamieson, Mistress made it clear that she would much rather do Antonio Banderas than Josh Brolin.

At home Slave and Mistress made up for a missed afternoon sex opportunity, and Mistress made sure she had a particularly hard cock by requiring me to insert my little white probe.

Afterwards, we drifted off, and Slave had an intriguing dream worth sharing.

We were in Paris, a place where Mistress and Slave have been together, though it was years ago.

We had arranged to meet some friends. Were they French? Or American? Maybe a little of both.

But among them was a couple and their Parents.

It seemed to be M, his wife B, and  M’s ubiquitous in-laws, who Mistress says are often weekend visitors at our Western Correspondent’s home.

There was a brief meeting of the group in front of some stately Parisian Manse. Introductions were made. Hands were shaked. Or kissed.

Then followed a scene at dinner in a very elegant Parisian restaurant.

Maybe I am too much of a foodie, but I have a specific recall of the starter course: a seafood combo: poached salmon, crab, smoked salmon, regaled with a variety of sauces and condiments.

It was so scrumptious, and the meal chatter was so delightful, that for a while I missed the fact that Mistress was missing. 

Then, at some point she slid into the chair next to me …. Passed me her crab (she’s allergic to shellfish)… and I noticed a little guilty smile on her face….

Then I noticed that the other guy – M, I assume – was sliding into his chair at the other end of the table.

He murmured something about a call he had to answer.

But I knew they had had their little quickie somewhere.

Did Mistress just have her first chance to venerate his special occasion cock?

Or did he take her over some antique chair where Marie Antoinette had sipped champagne.

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow…. Not trying to “out” her in front of B and the in-laws.

She gave me a little guilty shrug.

Busted.

 Her hand settled on my thigh, a finger sliding up toward my cock.

Twitch.

Ouch.

I apparently was caged for the occasion.

When she wakes up, I will have to cross-examine her about her little adventure.

It is Switch Day, after all.

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Ideas?

I forgot to solicit any suggestions for switch day proceedings.  Our readers should feel free to make any special requests you may have for Mistress's weekly turning of the tables.

It's Second Nature to Me Now.

Mistress and I were on slightly different schedules yesterday.

So, without asking, I knew what that meant: a cage day.

As I slipped out of bed and picked up my laptop, I made sure that I grabbed the steel ring that creates the base of my cage from my dresser drawer.

And my first duty, before making my morning cup of coffee, is to smush my balls and then my cock through the tight ring. It takes a little poking and prodding, the only “touching” that Slave is allowed without express permission. Then my work down there is done.

Later, when it was time to wake Mistress, she seemed pleased that I had taken the initiative to make sure my ring was in place, ready to slide the cage on and have her close the lock.

I had already worshipped her with lips and tongue to a nice writhing orgasm. Now it was time for my reward (so I hoped, no guaranties of course). AS her fingers slid down to cup my cock and balls, she found the hard ring, capturing them.

“Good work, Slave…. You’re already to be caged for the day…. Plus I like what it does to your cock …..”

Oh Yes. I’ve commented on that before. The tight restraint makes me all that harder for her. Her teasing fingers drove me crazy, until I was begging, pleading to fuck her.

And when she finally rolled over and gave her consent, Mistress seemed pleased.

“My that is a hard one, Slave…..”

Later, when we talked during the day, Mistress was very solicitous.

“How’s the cage, Slave….”

Actually, it’s easy to forget, unless I am reminded…. Thanks, Mistress.

“Tight, Mistress…. Very tight.”

Mistress did check up on me after her lunch meeting. She had worn some elegant black trousers to work, with a lovely purple silky top – her version of dress down Friday.

But it was easy for her to slide her pants down and off, allowing me to lavish her with more worship before she headed back to work. She left behind a Slave with her taste and fragrance covering my face, and a cage that seemed all the tighter, at least for the moment.
And before you feel too sorry for me, rest assured that when I got home, Mistress unlocked me before our evening bike ride, and allowed me to fuck her once the teens were off to dinner.

She did share a bit of her talk with our Western Correspondent though:

“I told him how much I like you fucking me with that ring on, Slave…. “

Mmmmm. This Slave is a sucker for complements.

Taking One for the Team

Mistress stopped by my office for some worship yesterday after her lunch hour. She had her new, over the knee boots on, with those  sexy black tights underneath.

Yum.

Since we were in a bit of a hurry – I had a conference call approaching in about 10 minutes – we were very efficient.

She had me pull off one boot, then she pulled down one leg’s worth of those delicious tights, giving me all the space I needed to lavish her with my tongue. Soon she was bucking against me, one naked leg and one booted leg draped over my shoulders, pulling my face to her until she had her fill.

Afterwards, I took this photo of her on her “throne”, so you can see the boots. I think they will be well received at the play party, don’t you?

And then I emailed a copy of the photo off to our Western Correspondent, just to give him a preview, and let him know that his little cyber slave had been taken care off here in River City, at least for the time being.

Cruel of me?  Or simply keeping M up to date? You be the judge.

Later, at home, we jumped on our bikes to catch the last of the Indian summer sunlight. As we rode,  Mistress shared some of her conversation with our Western Correspondent that afternoon.

“He’s very curious about the munch and play party, Slave.  I think he’s a little jealous…”

“Well of course, Mistress .  I am sure he’d love to join in … maybe tie you to some piece of furniture and toy with you for all to see…..”

“And he’s been thinking about what I should wear…. He thinks leather would be good….”

I can see this could involve a shopping trip.

Later, as I was preparing some green beans and trout for dinner, Mistress was sitting at the kitchen counter, laptop in front of her and her little I-phone there too. The repeated chimes told me that M was chatting back and forth with her via text.

I raised an eyebrow. Curious, but not nosey is the way I like to play it under those circumstances.

“He says you must be very good with that tongue of yours’ slave.”

“I do enjoy using it to please you, Mistress….”

It’s true. It’s both a pleasure for me,  and an acquired skill that can always be honed with practice and imagination. I do think that despite my advanced age, and maybe because of the patience that comes with it, I have gotten better at reducing Mistress to a puddle of vibrating female flesh using my lips and tongue.

Of course, my skills may not be able to replicate the intensity and efficiency of the trusty Hitachi, but at least I am more reliable away from a power source.

“M is wondering if we should try to get all four of us together – you, me, M and B [M’s mysterious wife]. He says she could Dom you, make you feed on her pussy for hours, while M and I …. Well….you know.”

“You can tell M that I am happy to take one for the team, Mistress….”

As I think I have mentioned here before, M is a little trigger shy when it comes to getting together with Mistress in the flesh.  While he has had invitations and opportunities, and while Mistress has a blanket free pass from me, her loving husband and slave, he has…. Concerns.

Spontaneous human combustion?

Falling irreparably under Mistress’s compelling spell?

Paranoia that B will use M’s adventure as license to engage in some adventures of her own?

There is that old goose and gander rule.

Sounds like all of those issues are bubbling up on M’s head. Maybe that explains the writer’s block.

In any event. If Slave has to throw himself at the feet of the voracious B and deploy my acquired oral skills as a tactical diversion, I am prepared to give it my best.

Of course, Mistress would also have to decide if she is willing to share my tongue in order to comsummate her burning passion for M’s special occasion cock.

It is a quandary.

Under these circumstances, it is so much better to be the one who simply takes the orders.