Ripples

Our conversation with the ‘Nilla seemed to send out all sorts of erotic ripples yesterday.

Example: playing the agent provocateur, she complements Mistress’s delightful ass, which has been on display at this location more than a few times. (I guess that has been one of my cheap ploys for drawing eyes to this page. Shame. Shame, Slave).

But she wonders why can’t she see Mick in his cage.

I am heading back from a meeting.  And call Mistress.

“Oh, by the way Slave, Mistress made a cute comment on our blog, and she wants to see that picture of you in your cage.”

Gulp.

Unlike Mistress’s smooth lush ass, Mick’s crotch  in the cage looks rather disheveled: hair poorly maintained, skin mottled, pale aging flesh that has not seen the sun. (well there was that day on the river beach out west, but only for an hour or two).  Yuck.

“….and you said?”

“I said Yes, Slave.”

Later, back in my office, I texted Mistress for clarification.

“Are you telling me that you want me to send it, or that I have permission to send it?”

Her answer was very….directive.

“Send it, Slave.”

Ok……I sucked it up, and got a little “Slave humiliates himself to please Mistress” twitch.  I sent the loathsome picture  via email to ‘Nilla. She seemed to be amused, making a clever remark about my status as a “knight in shining armor.”

Funny, ‘Nilla.  Very funny.

But by now the chorus of comments for a more public display has been heard. Mistress and I will need to discuss that, folks, so be patient.

Then there was M.

He as very intrigued by ‘Nilla’s endorsement of the ass fucking that he has in mind for Mistress.

We were driving out to the tennis tournament late yesterday afternoon, and Mistress was sharing the highlights of her day.

“M was very engaging today, Slave….he wanted to hear all about our talk with ‘Nilla.”

(M is a very big ‘Nilla fan.)

“And what did you tell him…”

“About how wild she was about that ass fucking thing….”

Sure enough, as we sat at courtside with the privilege of watching some guy the crowd called Rafa rally from a set behind, Mistress was getting a series of texts from her cyber Dom.

And one she shared included a very generous offer.

“M says that, if you and I want, you can have permission to fuck me in the ass on Sunday, Slave.”

Wow. This was something that Mistress had promised M. An experience she has yet to “enjoy.” He was to be the first with the special “All Orifice Access Pass.”

Very generous.  

And yet.

“What do you think, Slave?”

“I’m not sure it’s right, Mistress. That is M’s holy grail.  His White Whale. Something you’ve said you are saving for him. I don’t think it would be right for me to usurp. But, of course, it’s up to you, Mistress.”

“Of course it is Slave.”

Later that night, home at last and getting ready for bed, Mistress instructed me to insert my little white probe.

“I know we are a little tired, Slave. But a nice hard cock is what I have in mind.”

It was well lubed and inside me as I slid in next to her. She had my laptop opened, and as I laved her tender parts with my tongue she caught up on some of our commenters, Aisha and Sin. And she commented to me on ‘Nilla’s cute cut-out top for HNT.”

Meanwhile I was getting a taste of Mistress’s parts, after being marinated in their sealed undies for so many hours of a busy and warm day.

Or had they been sealed?

“Hmmm, Mistress. It tastes like there’s been some action down here.  Not exactly like you’ve been fucked, but certainly like you’ve been pretty aroused today.”

Maybe Slave’s taste buds are over sensitized, but mingled with the salty brine of our afternoon in those sunny seats at court side was the more pungent flavor of Mistress’s natural, lubricating   juices.

It made for a very intoxicating brew.

“Well, M was sending me some salacious messages today, and you know what that does to me, Slave.”

After she put the computer down, She rocked and rolled against my mouth for a lovely explosion.  My cock was standing at attention as I removed the laptop from our bed. She seemed impressed.

“Oh my Slave.  That is impressive.”

Then she allowed me to fuck her.

“So what were those things he was telling you Mistress?”, I asked as I ground my hips against her and she made those cute and sexes noises for me.

A little smutty talk about her fantasies with M seems to fuel both of our fires at moments like these.

“Ahhh….he had a story about taking me golfing, Slave.”

“You golfed with him?”

“Well, not exactly. I carried his clubs. And I also carried his  balls …. In my cunt….”

Hmmm.  “Well I suppose you could fit one or them, but I’d worry about getting them out.”

“It seemed a little impractical, but then it was a fantasy after all.”

“Did that turn you on Mistress?”

“Well, I recall it did Slave. And then he mad me suck him off in the trees.”

I suppose that would be the golf equivalent of the 7^th inning stretch. But who would sing “Take me out to the Ball Game”?

In my mind I wondered if Mistress had survived the day without getting herself off, but that is a matter of Dom/sub privilege.

As for me, I was fortunate to be granted permission to come when the time was right. That’s really the most important question for me to get answered.