Preview

These pictures sort of write their own story, don't they?

Details in the morning.

Makes me feel like one of those dorky local news stations.... as in:
  
"Reports of plague outbreak?   details at 11."

Just Another Friday

Our readers will be happy to know that Mistress seems to be her feisty self again after that scary headache sequence a week ago….she’s hungry for my tongue and cock, and what Slave would not relish rising to meet her hunger.

Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.

Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!

Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.

Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.

As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.

“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”

“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”

“No doubt, Mistress….”

By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.

It’s nice to feel wanted.

On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?

Memories are short.

But it gave us something to talk about.

“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”

She just raised an eyebrow.

“Bad, Slave.”

“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”

She laughed.

“They’d go crazy, Slave.”

I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.

So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.

But I digress with my rant….

By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.

You can imagine what that meant.

The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!

Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.

You know where this went, don’t you?

Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.

She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.

So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.

I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.

Mistress Gets a Spanking

Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?

But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?

No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.

“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”

This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.

“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”

“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”

This part got the attention of other parts of me.  Actually a specific part.

Twitch. Damn. How predictable.

“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”

I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.

I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.

“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”

“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”

“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.

A few seconds later I heard the little chime again.  She giggled. And she squirmed  just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.

“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”

Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.

A few moments later we got M’s response.

“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”

Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.

Inttiguing.

We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.

I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory  sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses  Mom.

Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights.  I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.

How convenient.

“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “

She was very obedient, settling over my lap.

My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.

“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am Slave.”

She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”

“You were keeping count, Mistress?”

“I suppose I was….”

I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:

Soaking.

It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.

I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.

“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”

She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.

I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.

Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.

But what was interesting was how she fought it,  dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.

“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”

“I know, Slave….”

But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.

But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?

When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.

It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud.  Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.

And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.

HNT / Deploying Our Crystal Cock

Yesterday morning’s blog made me realize that crystal cock at our bedside table must have been feeling underutilized.

So when I brought the laptop up to bed to my snoozing Mistress, and woke her from her sleep, I slid the pink, translucent ridged wonder out of it’s little cozy coffin shaped box.

Mistress took care of her business, and slid back into bed with me ready to read the blog. And as she scrolled through it, I slid under the sheets, to begin grazing on her sumptuous folds.

To fuel my fetish, Mistress had decided to sleep in those black tights with the strategic opening. My cock had pressed against it for much of the night. And, well, I was kind of horny for her, as you might expect.

But first things first….

Mistress squirmed and stretched a bit as I began to lavish her with attention from my tongue, poking, probing, sliding to and fro to open her up to me. Then, with my right hand, I began to probe with the business end of the crystal cock through the opening in her tights, as it wormed it’s way to it’s destination.

“Ohhh…. Cold Slave…”

Yeah, the thing is a little cold until body heat warms it. Not like a real 98.6 degree cock. But much harder.

There is a trade-off I suppose.

“It will warm up Mistress.”

I gave her clit a firm suck, tugging it between my lips, then slid the crystal cock in a bit deeper still. That seemed to distract Mistress from the temperature differential.

Soon she had put the laptop aside, and was focused on the combined assault of my mouth augmented by those little ribs inside her bumping along her inner contours.

The orgasm that resulted seemed to clear the cobwebs from her brain. It took a good bit of digital dexterity to cling to that crystal cock as she bounced against my mouth.

I consider that a sign of a job well done.

And she must have felt the same, because my dedication and skill were richly rewarded.

“Give me my cock, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”