Mistress is better at dates than I am. She’s a Democrat but has a memory like an Elephant/Republican.
Yesterday she reminded me it was the 22nd anniversary of our first sexual encounter (well she put it less delicately). Now that is an interesting story, worth sharing with all of our readers sometime. And what is the most stunning fact is that we are still at it, hotter and with more frequency than ever.
And no, despite Mistress’s sleek and youthful appearance, as documented by the attached photo taken during our Sunday session, I was not violating any laws about sex with minors that evening 22 years ago….
But I know from the howls of outrage we heard from at least one reader yesterday, you want to know what happened the other evening with Mistress and her Dom. Indeed, yesterday morning, as I used my mouth to pleasure Molly, and she read the blog, she laughed a bit at the abrupt ending …
“Ah, a cliffhanger.”
And when our western correspondent, M, called her on her dreary ride to the state capitol (yet again) yesterday morning, he pumped her for details. She simply put it off to me. Apparently she did not want to scoop this morning’s entry.
So let me pick up where I left off….
Mistress had a long day. The drive to and from our flat state capitol, then her delayed engagement with her Dom. But when she finally got home, around 10 pm or so, she seemed, well, refreshed. And very sexy in a black business dress, naked but nicely tanned legs, with stylish black pumps.
And she had that well fucked smile on her as she allowed me to greet her with a hig and a kiss.
Upstairs in our room, she was kind enough to offer to unlock my cage before doing all those preparations a glamorous sex goddess must do before hitting the pillow.
And that was a relief, in and of itself. Once freed of the ring and the metal enclosure, my cock began some stretching exercises of it’ own with little more than the stimulation that came from the night’s imaginations and the image of Mistress shedding that black dress.
In fact, she asked me to help her unzip, and I was happy to, letting my lips caress her back as I slowly ran the zipper down.
“Did he help you with this earlier, Mistress?”
“No Slave, I had to do it myself when he asked me to strip for him.”
But Mistress had warned me that morning…
“I think by the time I get home I am going to be too tired for sex, Slave. So be patient and be prepared to wait until morning.”
I figured I could handle that, but by now I was not so sure.
After what seemed like an hour, but was only a matter of minutes, Mistress settled into bed. I folded up against her, trying to avoid the potential frustration of pressing my hardening cock against her flanks. A finger settled on the clean shaven, and still a bit moist parts between her legs. Ah, she was back to me.
And she knew what I wanted to hear, the sordid details of her evening out.
She had that coy smile again.
“Well he used the handcuffs, Slave. And the blindfold.”
Argh.
I try to be cool on these occassions, and not immediately unleash a barrage of questions. Quite frankly, I don’t want to appear desperate for the details, or make Mistress feel that she can’t cling to the inherent mystery that naturally enshrouds any intimate relationship between two people.
But I do like the details (apparently some of our readers do as well). So I go about it slowly, like some horny Columbo, without the trench coat.
“I know you are tired, Mistress. But can I simply taste your cunt. I like to see if it tastes …different.”
Of course, what I meant is ‘can I taste the remnants of your Dom’s fingers and cock on you.’
“You may, Slave.”
I settled in between her legs, tongue gently probing, sliding across her delicate parts.
“Do I taste different, Slave?”
“Some…”
“How, Slave.”
“Oh, a little ..used…a bit gamier…like you have had some sex, then got dressed and came home to me, Mistress.”
Of course, there was no reason for her to wash away the evidence, was there.
Mistress reached down to feel my hard cock. And of course it was frustratingly hard. I simply squirmed and let out a pathetic moan as her fingers slowly trailed along the length of it.
“Oh, poor Slave. I will let you fuck me, but I may not be too energetic.”
My pathos had worked. And of course by now I would have been happy to fuck her if she was passed out.
Luckily she was still awake, and could answer a few more questions as I mounted her and took my time to fuck her properly.
“Did he kiss you when you arrived, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. He always does.”
“And how does he handle you with that kiss?”
“Well his hands roam Slave. To my breasts. My cunt. He really likes my breasts.”
“And does that turn you on Mistress? Does it make you wet?”
She giggles a bit, as I slide against her.
“What do you think, Slave?”
As I continued to slowly take my pleasure from Mistress, she filled in more details in response to my questions…he fixed her a drink, and let her come down from her long day with some small talk and a tour of his yard project….but then it was down to business.
“And then, Mistress?”
He told me to go upstairs and strip for him, Slave. That he would join me in a few moments and expected me to be prepared for him.”
“And you followed his orders?”
“Of course, Slave.”
“And did you call him ‘Sir’?”.
“Yes Slave. What else would I call him?”
By now I was getting impatient, in several ways. I wanted to hear the story. I also wanted to come…but I needed to put the breaks on the latter until the story was done.
“And so he joined you in the bedroom?
“Yes, I was ready for him. Naked.”
“Did he appreciate that naked cunt he requires?”
“Well he really didn’t mention it. I think he’s used to it.”
And what happened next, Mistress?”
“The handcuffs, Slave. And the Blindfold.”
“How did he put on the cuffs, Mistress? In front? In back?”
In front. He had me lay on the bed then, my hands over my head.”
She described how he used his fingers to explore her body, as one hand held her hands over her head.
“He squeezed and sucked my nipples, Slave. He loves my breasts. He made me come with his hand ….”
And as she squirmed under me, and as I pumped into her, I imagined my Mistress, controlled, writhing, and submitting to this other man’s desires.
It was about then that I asked Mistress for permission to come. I really could not hold off any longer. And she generously consented. No doubt she was a bit tired of being fucked, so my explosive release probably came as a relief to her too.
And as we came down, Mistress in my arms, she finished the story for me. She described how he fucked her after a good bit of teasing and frustration, her legs over his shoulders.
“Did he keep the cuffs on you, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. He did for a while.”
“How did that feel Mistress?”
“Good Slave. Like I was his prisoner. “
“I am surprised he didn’t decide to keep you.”
She just shivered. Cuddling closer to me. I was glad she had her adventure, and even even more delighted that she had come home to me.
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