HUH?

"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.
("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Dispatch From the WIndy City

Molly and Mick are in Chicago this weekend, at the request of surly teen #2, who celebrates a birthday this weekend.

It’s about a 5 hour drive from River City. Tedious.

Unless your Mistress has a cyber Dom to text with to help pass the time.

The two teens were in the back,, earbuds in place, focused on computer screens or music.

Mick was at the wheel for a good part of the drive,

Molly was teasing and being teased by her Dom, our Western Correspondent.

Of course, when she share some of their repartee, we spoke softly and / or in code so as not to disrupt the image our children have of their Mom and Dad: “too boring for words.”

“He wonders if we can have another conversation like last night?”

“Up to you, dear.”

(I try – hard – to remember not to call her Mistress when the kids are within earshot.)

“Would it be wrong with a hotel room available for the two of us to being doing … that.”

“Not if that’s your desire….your call. Maybe I could be there to ‘assist’.”

“Hmmm….I will explain the options to him ….”

(Mistress seemed to be struggling with the challenge of not calling me ‘Slave’).

AS things developed, Mistress and M agreed on a time – after our family dinner – and that I would be sent out for a drink with maybe some “three way” time at the end. While Slave enjoys participating in their pervy fun from time to time, it probably works better for then when their sessions are their own deep, nasty secrets.

But midway through the trip, Mistress added a zinger---

“He says I’m not allowed to – you know – until our call tonight …..”

My guess is that Mistress shared the same little zing to her juicy parts that those instructions sent o my cock. A twitch of excitement at the thought of my Mistress submitting to another man’s cunning manipulations.

I whispered to her in response: does that make you damp dear?”

She just nodded her head, a little blush seemed apparent on her face.

We finally arrived in the Windy City at dusk, in the midst of a flashing thunderstorm. The kids were dropped off at relatives, and we headed to check into our hotel before hooking up for dinner.

A little private time.

“Slave….you won’t believe what he’s been up to….”

“You mean he got a head start on you, Mistress.”

Yes – and sent me a picture.”

She flashed the I-phone my way, and showed me a photo of a large cock, ready for her.

I chuckled, “I think you like that Mistress.”

“Is that bad, Slave?”

“No….It’s good for you, Mistress. You make a good slut for him, don’t you.”

“I suppose I do, Slave….”

Since Mistress was off limits until her phone call, we cleaned up and met the family for dinner, Indian fare that our daughter craved.

We were dropped off a few blocks from our hotel, and Mistress called M to let him know she would soon be ready for him.

“Your’re not going to blow me off are you?, she asked.

A rather nervy way for a Slave to talk to his Master, don’t you think.

Apparently that was his thought too.

I came back to the room with Mistress, helped her locate and plug in the Hitachi (can’t travel without it – “be prepared “ remains my motto), then grabbed the Times to read at the bar downstairs until called into action.

By the time I was heading for the door, Mistress was already stripped, laying wantonly across the king size bed, trusty Hitachi at her side.

What a wanton, greedy little thing, don’t you think?

She was desperate for his voice and the pleasure he would wring from her.

I asked permission to snap a photo with her phone, so she could text it to him, to see what he had wrought.

Then bid adieu.

At the bar I nursed a Jamieson, read up on the latest grim news about the housing market to distract myself. But the thought of Mistress writhing in pleasure four floors above me had me ---- on edge.

After about an hour I was growing both sleepy and impatient. So I risked the wrath of Mistress, texting her “can I come up now, Mistress?”

She quickly responded: “Yes, Slave.”

I settled my tab, hopped to, and waited impatiently for the elevator.

When I finally clicked through the door she was there, naked, walking about that post-orgasm animation putting a bounce in her step.

“Good. Slave’s back now…..Slave, M and I are just finishing up….take your cloths off. Now.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Soon Mistress switched on the speaker phone, so we could all be heard.

M and I exchanged respectful greetings.

“M says I deserve to be spanked because I was surly to him tonight, Slave. When asked if he was blowing ne off.”

“Would he like me to spank you on his behalf, Mistress?”

“Not until Sunday, Mick”

I made a note to be especially firm with her on our switch day.

But Mistress had other things in mind.

“We forgot the crop, didn’t we Slave. No, M, no shoehorn in this room …. But look. There’s Mick’s belt.”

She told me to get on the bed, bottom up,

I could barely hear M’s voice, but she heard and conveyed his directions.

“He’s lying on the bed now….No slave, M says it’s better to punish you with you on all fours.”

So there I was, on all fours for the second night in a row. And Mistress was wielding the belt.

“Ouch”.

I didn’t want to be a whiner. So took my medicine. It hurt, but Mistress was not too cruel. And at M’s bemused direction, she reached down a few times to fondle my cock and balls.

The carrot and the stick approach.

I’m a sucker for it.

After a about 15 slashes with the belt, Mistress allowed me to be “at ease”, and I offered to worship as she finished up her conversation with her Master.

The speakerphone was off now as they traded some mushy words before signing off.

They really are cute little lovebirds.

And of course now came the good part – at least for me.

After these talks, Mistress has a need for some firm, grade A cock. And all this taunting, teasing, whacking, stroking, Dom coaching, humiliating, and cunt sucking had me in prime condition to service her.

We rolled across the bed, lips locked, one of my fingers probing her firm ass while another hand slid through her juicy folds.. Soon Mistress was succumbing to my fingers for a little preview orgasm.

“How many times tonight with Him, Mistress?”

“Three Slave…”

Yikes. So she had just had her fourth. With more to come.

“And did he come for you too, Mistress?”

“Yes, he did Slave.”

She was rolling on top of me now, letting her lips feel the hard cock that would soon be buried inside her. Teasing herself with it, before the indulgence part.

“And how does that feel , Mistress? When he is moaning and exploding while thinking of you?”

“It feels very powerful, Slave”.

She was on top of me now, impaling herself, moaning with her delight.

“It’s OK if you want to think of his cock now Mistress….I am sure you want to ride that thick cock he was handling for you, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Slave. “

And at that point all this provocative talk was lost in incoherence as Mistress eyes shut tight, her body slammed against me, and her chest heaved with the power of her climax.

But rather than rest, she kept going against me, building to one more crazy cum as her fingers toyed with my balls, as she no doubt imagines doing to M someday.

When she finally had burned her self to exhaustion on me, I helped her roll off, then took her from above, pumping now with no need to restrain my own release.

“May I come now, Mistress?”

She seemed to like the way I put that.

And I sure liked it when she responded, “Yes, my Slave.”





2 comments:

strivingforpeace said...

Ok -- so I'm curious. Mr. C has told me not to eat Indian food prior to any of our visits -- he says it changes the taste of a woman....

and he HATE curry.

(shocking that we're together -- we really have very little in common)

your thoughts?

sfp

UCTMW Enterprises Management Team said...

Well I don't have a problem with curry....so maybe I don't notice it, but I never have noticed a taste difference based on food consumption.

It's all good to me.

Maybe Mr. C has much more sensitive taste buds than this old Irish guy.

Mick