It may have been Mistress’s long, strong and very shapely legs that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.
My first recollection of meeting Molly was at a political fundraising dinner in River City back in the Fall of 1987. She was an (early) 20 something who had recently gone to work for a politico who has since become a rumpled U.S. Senator (yes, he did vote for the health care bill).
I was a late 30’s professional, involved in the local political scene. It was the age of Reagan and Iran/Contra. Michael Dukakis had yet to don a combat helmet or ridden in a tank.
We were both married to other people at the time.
I saw her across the room: this young, vibrant beauty with long dark hair, and a stylish short dress that exposed those incredible legs.
Somehow I figured a way to get into her conversational orbit. She must have been chatting up a mutual friend. That was my chance to find out who this heavenly creature with the beautiful legs and luminous smile was. In the conversation that ensued, I can remember commenting on the length of that fashionable dress, how it was something one did not see often in our more conservative, frumpy town.
This was not the sort of conversational theme I would normally have launched into on my first encounter with any woman. But then I was immediately and hopelessly smitten.
She seemed amused, a bit flattered, by my attention. But wary. Very wary.
She turned down my obsequious and questionably motivated offer to walk her to her car that night. It was a dark night, in a not altogether safe downtown. I was simply concerned about her well being. Right. I was just looking for a chance to spend some private time with this young lovely.
Later she told me that she had asked a bellman from the hotel where the dinner was held to do the honors. She was questioning my motivations. And rightfully so.
I will spare you devoted readers the tale of how we ended up in bed with one another within about 9 months from that fateful encounter.
But flashing forward through a lengthy affair, two children, marriage, and sidetracks to Florida and other locales, Mistress’s legs are as compelling as ever.
She keeps then in such shapeliness with lots of biking and other forms of exercise. They are weapons of mass seduction that need to be expertly maintained to retain their seductive powers, and she is an expert.
In years past, and on our witch days, I have enjoyed restraining them, ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed, so I can work my hands and mouth up their full length, watching her squim in anticipation.
In my recently discovered status as her Slave, I enjoy kneeling for her, her legs spread wide, or maybe draped over my shoulders, gripping my head, as I use my mouth and tongue to show my devotion to her.
I will remain eternally grateful that Mistress had not worn trousers to that fundraising event all those years ago.
Yesterday an anonymous commenter asked if I had ever “taken Molly up the ass”. The answer is “uh….no.” It’s not something either one of us have been into. I suspect it would take some very powerful persuasion to get Molly interested in that particular experience.