Day of Rest?

Sunday Afternoon….

After one of those Sunday morning switch sessions where Mistress is forced to endure a cunning mix of pain, frustration and forced orgasms, it’s not unusual for us to take the “day of rest” concept at its word. But by Sunday afternoon, Mistress was a horny little vixen, and was not to be denied. And who was I to deny her?

Not surprisingly, her prurient mood was stoked by our western correspondent. After we both tended to some weekend errands, we had settled onto our deck. Summer had finally arrived in River City and it was hot and humid.  Mistress planned to recharge her solar batteries and get some color for her killer legs, the ones that go au natural these days. 

The teens were off to a water park, Mistress was reading a book. I was paging through the Times. Then the chime of her text message began to ring.

“He says he won on the golf course again, Slave.”

It’s nice that she keeps me updated.

“He probably would like a blow job as a reward, Mistress.”

I heard her tapping away.

“I told him that if I was there, I would give him a blow job for the win.”

I imagined tM and me involved in a golf match, him prevailing. And oral sex from Molly  was our stakes. Molly would have been happy to kneel on the 18^th green to pay off.

“You are a flirt, Mistress”.

“Does all this bother you, Slave. Should I be paying more attention to you, instead.”

“No…it’s fine by me. It seems to make you happy, Mistress. And for some crazy reason it makes me hot too….”

Yes, I was stirring down there again.

“It does Slave….kind of makes me giddy.”

It’s fun to see this crush Mistress has developed, up close and personal.

And it was not long afterwards that Mistress, her juices flowing, suggested we adjourn to our bedroom.

And the Hitachi was on her mind.  (We should be getting regular product placement checks by now.)

“I think I want it again, Slave…do you mind?”

Of course not. Why not let the machine do the work.

I switched it on, and pressed it against her. But there was one thing more.

“Let’s take a picture for him, Slave.”

Why not. I suspected I would not be getting any that afternoon, but for his little provocateur text messages.

We snapped a shot of the business end of the Power Tool pressed against Mistress’s naked cunt. Then she texted it off to him.

She really is a tease.

This time I felt no need to prolong the “agony”. And Mistress seemed grateful, on her back, pumping her leaking pussy hard against it, building herself to a whopper of an orgasm that had her face all red when I was done.

I asked permission and she allowed me to fuck her. I climbed on top, my cock needing no further encouragement than the sight of her own climax and the friction it enjoyed against he luscious thigh.  I worked at it for a while, hoping to get her off one more time before it was my time to beg.

But she had her own idea.  

“Let me get on top, Slave.”

Hmmm. She was needy. Wanted one of those big ones that only comes with her riding me, grinding away against me, cock buried deep inside.

“Of course, Mistress….and if it helps, feel free to imagine what it would be like to ride M’s cock….”

That seemed to get her going all the more.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Mistress….”

“Yes, Slave. I would. Is that bad?”

“No Mistress….not at all.”

All I had to do was lay there, and sqeeze a nipple or two, as she built herself to a very big one, grinding hard and desperately against me, until she carried herself  over the top, moaning, lurching down against me. Then she  rode me a bit more, her fingers toying with my balls…I was close myself, but could tell she was exhausted.

We flipped over, me driving into her now, and not long thereafter, begging to come.

Afterwards, we slept a bit, in a heap.

I guess the “day of rest” thing can sometimes be honored in the breach.