Welcome Back, Molly.

I’m reporting to you this morning from the campus of that small liberal arts college where Mistress matriculated back in the 1980’s.  We are on a short weekend road trip with the surly teens, who are in the college shopping phase. Mistress wanted to show them her alma mater – at long last – to see if she could pique their interest.

But of course they think they are far too special for this lovely pastoral place that, to them, seems to be in the middle of no-where.

I for one loved the campus tour that Mistress gave me last night, under a bright full moon. There was the frat house where she once fucked E, the cocky guy who discovered Mistress’ s penchant for being a cyber sub last fall.

And we speculated about whether Mistress might run into the Journalism Prof she had a brief, but incendiary affair with back in Sopohomore year. (We calculated that he’s probably younger than her Slave….so who’s the cradle robber?)

But so much for the travelogue. I suspect that you, dear  readers, are more interested in Sex-tourism.

One of our commenters yesterday cleverly suggested that the best way to begin a period of orgasm denial is to condition a slave to 6 or 7 orgasms a day, then pull out the rug. Damn.

If M decided to apply that technique to Mistress, today would be a very good day.

Yesterday morning, I worshipped her sopping cunt for a while as she read the blog, but elected to pass on giving her an orgasm, or fucking her myself. She had a telephone conference planned with our Western Correspondent for about 10 am, and I figured it would be unfair to him for me to prematurely discharge all that anticipatory sexual energy..

It was a “work from home” morning for her. And when she reported back to me later it sounds like she had been very productive.

“How many, Mistress.”

“Four, Slave….it was pretty hot.”

“And did M get some action too, Mistress?”

“Oh yes.  He kind of went wild, Slave.”

No wonder M had been generating fewer column inches lately. His hands have a higher and better use.

We hit the road with the teens around 3:30 pm for the long drive north, and not long afterwards, M and Mistress were texting back and forth. M was at the airport in his home town, heading to one of our Midwestern cities best known for its beer production, where he will be spending some time this weekend on the golf course with his brother.

And we were still driving when M landed, texting Mistress about his trip, and asking whether she could call.

The teens were in the back seat, all ear budded up. And Mistress kept the talk very vanilla. But it was cute to see her light up and tease her big bad cyber dom about his flight reticence.

We finally made it here around 8 pm, and ate dinner with the girls at an old off-campus beer and pizza joint, still around after 100 years of serving  college kids with fake IDs and workers from the long shuttered paper mill.  A few of the guys who seem to have grown roots at the bar ogled Mistress and the teens as we slid into a booth.  I guess they aren’t used to much River City glamour in these parts.

After dinner, we collected the keys to rooms at an old mansion on campus, where returning alumna are entitled to stay… I warned the teens to be on the look out for ghosts. But they seemed more interested in the fact that their room had cable.

Parenting finally done for the day, Mistress and I took that walk, then hunkered down in our room.  I was looking forward to collecting my sexual IOU from the morning, and debriefing Mistress about her morning conference call.

But as I was emerging from the shower, Mistress’s text went off.

“It’s M, Slave… he wants to know what we are up to….”

“Go ahead and report, Mistress…. No rush on my end.”

There was more tapping and chiming for a  while, as I checked for email on the laptop.

“He wants to know if I can talk, Slave.”

“Of course, you can, Mistress.”

“I’m going to tell him we have other priorities now, Slave. That my Slave needs his attention.”

“It really is OK, Mistress.”

I could tell she was torn. But there was something compelling about his request. And sure enough, soon they were chatting on the bed. I took the photo above to record the scene. 

But soon, inevitably I suppose, I was drawn into their action.

“M says your mouth should be on my cunt, Slave.”

  Of course, Mistress. I was waiting to be asked.”

Soon I was on my knees, Devouring. And Mistress was murmuring into the phone. It was another one of those kinky Bob Newhart routines.

There was some conversation about titles… Mistress kept getting confused.

“Yes, M….I mean Sir..  Yes, Sir, I think Slave gets turned on when you make me call you Sir.”

And I got some questions too.

“M wants to know if  your cock is hard, Slave?”

“It certainly is Mistress.”

For a while M was doing the talking, whispering Mistress into a world where she was likely enjoying the full measure of his “special occasion cock”.

Soon Mistress was coming hard and long against my mouth, as I sucked and cajoled her with lips and tongues. She seemed to enjoy vocalizing it all for M’s pleasure and amusement.

And she was very fixated on what was happening at M’s end of the line.

“What are you doing, Sir…..are you hard…. Does this turn YOU on?... You know I like to hear about that….”

She was clearly trying to provoke him…. To make sure he was having as much fun across the lake in beer town as we were here in her little college town.

But then Mistress (or was it M) decided to ratchet things up a notch.

“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave…. “

Well, I certainly was desperate to do just that. And I would not want to be accused of insubordination.  But doing it with an audience of sorts, was a new experience for me.

 I slid on top of Mistress, thrusting into her, as she continued to describe the action to her Sir.

“It’s a little hard to guide him in with one hand on the phone, M.,,, er,,,, Sir.”

Bu we overcame that minor inconvenience, and soon I was fucking her hard and with mucho gusto. And Mistress was coming some more, first with me on top, and then later, riding my cock, describing it all in great, smutty  detail for our Western Correspondent.

“You do like hearing this don’t you, Sir….”

It seemed he did. And I chimed in.

“I just hope that if you and M ever do get together, I get a phone call like this…”

“M says it’s a deal, Slave.”

As we continued to fuck there were some special requests thrown in.

“M wants you to stick my finger up my ass, Slave.”

We rolled over again, and I followed orders. More crazed Mistress coming sounds ensued.

But I could tell Mistress was getting near the edge of even her mighty endurance.

“What I’d really like is for both of my cocks to come at the same time….do you think we could do that?”

Well, as it  turned out, the answer was “no”. 

Within moments I could hear M’s mighty roar through the phone pressed against Mistress’s ear.  Wow.   Youthful exuberance. No wonder Mistress likes to egg him on that way.

And not long after that, Mistress signed off, wishing her Sir a loving sweet dreams, as I continued to piston in and out of her at a more leisurely pace. 

While I am not sure that I could have come with the distraction of those other ears, and Mistress’s running narrative for him, I certainly had no problems after the phone was put aside. And soon I was begging to come, and Mistress was more than happy to grant me permission.

She’s still sleeping now, just a few feet away.  She has a right to be tired. And I am wondering if in her wanton college days she ever had, or even imagined having , as many orgasms as she had yesterday with her Slave and her Sir.