Cuckold Sleepover

Slave prepared dinner last night for Mistress and her lover Jay. While they chit chatted over glasses of wine in our living room, I was down "slaving away" in the kitchen, preparing some broiled arctic char and a simple skillet of fried potatoes and brussel sprouts. It's a simple but colorful meal.

Of course, there are certain protocols when Jay comes calling. He's not one of those macho cuckolders who relishes in the humiliation of the "pathetic cuckolded hubby". In fact, after all these years he still seems a little uncomfortable about the whole deal. He treats me like one of his buddies, with talk of football and politics, not what he has in mind for my all too willing to please wife.

But when he does come over, Mistress makes sure he gets primacy -- including sitting next to him on the couch as we share dinner and discuss the events of the day.  And I refrain from any PDA's in Jay's presence. He's the one who gets to gently stroke Mistress's shoulder or leg, or shares a stolen kiss with her.

Now typically, that is something I handle well. But last night..... Mistress, whether intentionally or not, was teasing her slave. She elected to keep on the dark, black tights she had worn to a work meeting earlier in the day. Of course, she understands her slave's tights' fetish. But last night, all I could do was admire rather than stroke her legs, let alone grovel betwixt them as I so desperately wanted to do. AS you can see from the photo, her tight enshrouded legs were on full display to her slave last night as we ate dinner....me sitting across from the two lovebirds as they sat side by side on our couch.

ARGH!

In any event, after dinner we strolled up to a local ice cream parlor for a little desert. It was a brisk walk which cleared our heads and set the table for the rest of the night.  When we walked back into the house after our little jaunt, it was about 9 pm.

"Time for bed, Jay?"

"Fine by me....."

I had already moved any items I might need to the guest bedroom, so did not have to join them in our bedroom before "lights out".  But Mistress made a little ceremony out of retiring for the night.

"I'm closing this door now slave....", giving me a little mischievous grin as the door closed her behind her for the night.

This time I did not make the mistake of turning on the TV downstairs.  Instead I hunkered down with a good book in the adjoining bed room. It was not too long before the sounds of Mistress's rhythmic moans of sexual delight were resonating through that closed door. And the sound of skin slapping against skin?  Was that Jay's rapid thrusting into Mistress's clean shaven folds.

It was definitely fuel for the imagination.

But don't worry. Slave honored the "no touch" rule.

Now it's morning. Jay spent a few minutes down here in the kitchen with me. I brewed his morning coffee. We chatted about his Buckeyes and the vagaries of the health insurance market under the new authoritarian regime.  Now he's off.

The question this morning is whether Mistress's folds have been a little too over-extended to allow Slave to enjoy sloppy seconds. If so, it could be a long day!

This Could be The Last Time....

Slave is actually retiring from his long time partnership at the end of the year. The time is right and the thought of not having to show up at an office on a regular basis is liberating.

But along with some of my colleagues and the expansive view from my corner office perch, there is one ritual that will be sorely missed as I scale down my practice to something more laid back: those leisurely worship sessions behind my closed office door.

Yesterday at the end of the work day, my fellow worker bees through a retirement reception at the office. It was something I had been dreading.

"It feels like going to your own funeral, Mistress....."

I was in a dark suit and Mistress had a very dark blue dress on that verged on black.  Mourning attire.  She reminded me of that old Johnny Cash line. He always dressed in black and when someone asked why he always looked like he was going to a funeral, he would respond "Maybe I am...."

But before my "funeral" started, there was time for what could be our last in office worship. Mistress wriggled one leg out of those silky black tights. I pushed a chair against the door, draped that all purpose blanket on her "throne" and went to work.  It was a melancholy moment in a way. Savoring those musky juices and reminiscing about all the cums I had been able to deliver her in that sealed chamber sitting 28 floors above the River City street grid.  As usual, it did not take Mistress long to  ascend to the state of sexual bliss that my practiced tongue has been trained to deliver. I suppose we both have a pavlovian response to this special space.

After the dust settled and her pulse returned to the norm she rearranged her clothing for our little party, and I caught this fetching view of her black tighted bottom.  A bonus shot for our readers.


But will it be the Last Time?  I do know the fellow (Mike) who will be taking over my office come January. In fact, he is a tall handsome guy who has always had an eye for Mistress. They spent a good bit of time last night chatting each other up (or was it flirting?) as I accepted the congratulations of my colleagues and our staff on my "much deserved" retirement.  Who knows, maybe Mike will let us borrow the space from time to time in the future. Or, better yet, maybe Mistress can train Mike to perform comparable services should she decide she misses the view.

'Tis the Season....

Here in River City Mistress and slave have been counting the days until our holiday family duties are over and we can head west for some post-Christmas skiing at our SW hideaway. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little kinky fun.

Over the weekend there was some hot morning sex and afternoon worship, including the deployment of Mistress's favorite power tool for a little extra Sunday morning thrill. And tomorrow night there are plans for Mistress's lover Jay to visit for dinner . . . and maybe more?

And while some may see this as the holiday season, slave with his peculiar  obsession, sees this as "tights season", with lots of ladies now distracting me with their tights' clad legs in various shades and designs....

Like this lady on the streetcar at lunch the other day:


Or this bank clerk taking some early winter sun at lunch time on a downtown square:


 Unfortunately, we don't have a subway in River City, so I don't get to take any sneaky photos like this:

Mistress surprised me when I came home last night, shortly after she ended her own busy work day meeting with clients.

"I have my special tights on today, slave...."

"You mean...."

"Yes, the peek-a-boo tights...."

"Yum....."

It didn't take me long to "persuade" Mistress to sit back on the bed and let her slave get to work on those easy to access clean shaven folds.... with my face pressed against the texture of her black tights as I worked hard with tongue and lips to please her. It was particularly intriguing to consider that she had been gallivanting around town, meeting with folks who had no idea that beneath her dark and elegant dress her her "lady bits" were free ranging.

Mistress seemed pleased with my efforts as I delivered her a apres work day cum.

"You do enjoy that, don't you slave...."

"You think?"

Making America Safe For Cuckolding Again

Mistress was getting ready for her first real "date" with her prospective side-dish when I got home from work last night.  I took particular pride in the fact that she chose some saucy turquoise undies I got her for Christmas last year.  The potential unveiling of her assets that John had proposed via text in Wednesday night were clearly on her mind.

And while I was tempted to offer to worship before she left for their rendezvous at his apartment, the downside would have been tempering the sexual edge that no likely had been building over the prospects of a first encounter with a new lover.

There was one snafu.  The plan was to meet at his place at around 6 pm, but there was an unanticipated delay. John was tied up in traffic on his way home. A certain pussy grabbing white supremacist was in town to soak in the adulation from the throngs, and his motorcade had locked up traffic throughout our typically sedate burg.  He was Making America Stuck in Traffic Again, and also getting in the way of some hot cuckolding sex!

Has he no shame?

Of course, we know the answer to that question.

But while the passion of the two recently acquainted love birds was delayed by our new Leader, it was not to be  denied.

Mistress left about 30 minutes after she had originally planned, and reported to me via text about 30 minutes later that she had arrived safely, despite horrific traffic. Of course, I had the coordinates of her encounter in case she "disappeared". Making dinner and catching up on Westworld and the news took up my evening. And at around 10 pm or so I texted her to make sure all was OK.  She responded a bit later that she was on her way home.

I did not get a fill debrief as we settled into bed.  Mistress was clearly tired.

"You can have a taste slave....but I don't need another orgasm. I think my body has had enough for tonight.."

You can be assured that I took her up on her offer, sampling the sweet, creamy mixture of juices that were the remnants of her date night.  I'm hoping that her body will have recovered in time for Friday morning wake-up sex.