As is often the case, Mistress was the most dazzling woman in the room. And her darker, more exotic complexion certainly set her off from the pasty faced women and men of celtic heritage assembled for the play.
As it happened, Mistress had on the lovely short brown cashmere dress, brown tights and brown suede boots she had worn earlier in the week, for her first “date” with her new Sir. (the look is similar to the one in the photo).
And since I have a bit of a tights fetish, it was natural for me to slide my hand onto her thigh as the lights dropped in the theatre. I enjoyed the feel of her firm, well muscled thighs covered with the taut fabric that covered them.
So as the prim, Priestly characters read their lines on stage, my hand was making gentle circles on her thigh, moving higher, until my fingers could feel the warmth at their juncture. And of course, my mind wandered to the fact that Mistress’s new Sir had likely been of the same mind a few days earlier, exploiting her willingness to surrender the same access to him. And that she had probably grown wet in anticipation of that touch, just as she now seemed damp and warm as a result of mine.
The thought of Mistress squirming to the touch of another man, someone she had chosen to submit her will and body to, is, of course, unnerving.
But for some strange reason it also drives this Slave crazy with desire for her.
I do a bit more competitive .... I want to make sure I continue to please her every bit as well as he does.
Knowing that as I fuck her, she may be thinking of how it felt to be taken by him, or to submit to his "inspection", makes me want to please her all the more.
Having her remind me that she has been thinking about that other cock, and how it tasted as it grew in her mouth makes me want to worship her cunt with even greater devotion.
Mistress is upstairs sleeping now. But not for long.