Before Sunrise

It was a half and hour before sunrise, and Amy was already up. The sky outside was slowly lightening, with the promise of a sunny day. Everything was quiet, few other people in the household were awake. Just the kitchens really.

Amy liked this part of the day, she had a few minutes which were completely hers, at a time when she still had energy to do something about it. She slid her hand between her legs, feeling herself already wet from anticipation of her next duty. A delicate touch, and she shivered just a bit. It didn’t take long anymore, and she didn’t want to come too much, Mistress might not like that.

But, since she’d been waking Mistress up, she’d been getting everything she needed that way. Even if it just made her want more. She strapped on a front-tying corset, which pushed her breasts up and covered nothing. A simple dress over that, and she was dressed according to Mistress’ desires.

It was already light enough that she didn’t need a candle to find her way to her Mistress’ room in the east tower. It was becoming second nature, anyway, to follow the stone hallways and up the uneven stone stairs. Windows were cut in the turret, letting in the predawn light. Amy lifted her skirt to keep it out of the way, climbing the forty-odd stairs to the top of the tower.

Arriving in her Mistress’ room, she walked silently to the bed. She removed the dress, letting it pool on the floor. Gentle nudging at her Mistress’ legs and she rolled over, legs wide. Amy knelt there, lowering her mouth to her Mistress’s pussy. She licked, and teased, arousing her Mistress, and forcing her to arise. Hands clutched at her head, her collar, pulling her more deeply into Mistress’ sopping cunt. Feet pressed against her back, and her Mistress shouted out.

Amy crawled to lie next to her, and her Mistress turned and smiled. Amy felt her Mistress’ fingers press against her pussy, and she came again and again, blocking out the sound of the cock’s crow greeting the new day.


Review: The urJoy Orgasm Summoner

Hello readers! Rosie Risqué here again with another sex toy review, this month the urJoy Orgasm Summoner.

When urJoy contacted me and asked me to review their latest toy, I jumped at the chance. Anyone reading this blog will know that urJoy makes the highest quality luxury sex toys in the world. Also, their price tag puts them out of the range of anyone who isn’t a fabulously wealthy and/or a sex blogger. So when they offered to send me one, I literally jumped at the chance, one hand caressing my nipple with the other on my greedy clit while I jumped up and down..

I’d almost forgotten about the request, which came months ago, but a mysterious box arrived just a few days ago — just in time for Halloween.The box itself was wooden with intricate carvings that reflected the light, almost seeming to glow on their own. The carvings were in the shape of a pentagram with the words “urJoy Orgasm Summoner / for when a phallus is not enough!” written around the circle itself in a fancy runic script.

Opening the box, the Summoner lay nestled in a soft velvet compartment. It looked mostly like a cock ring with vibrating egg attachment, and made me wonder if I should have gotten the aid of an adoring fan to test this one out. The enclosed instruction booklet (more about that later) made it clear that the urJoy Orgasm Summoner was meant to be a solo-use toy.

Pulling out the Summoner, I found that it was made of urJoy’s classic and exquisite material that I’ve always enjoyed, and feels excellent against my skin. What first looked like pleasure ridges turned out to be more runes, the majority of which ran around the ring in a flowing and unreadable script.

There was a small compartment for several condoms, which was strange, but which I learned are vital to the proper functioning of the urJoy Orgasm Summoner. The condom packaging listed the brand name as the “urJoy Conjorom” and has the same pentagram-like circle stamped on it.. On top of it all there was a small booklet, which had the words “ABSOLUTELY IMPORTANT! Read before using the urJoy Orgasm Summoner, on pain of your soul!” I’m not sure how pure the the soul of a sexblogger is, but I decided to take their advice.

The book advised three important safe sex rules (safer sex rules being the few I always follow!) First, to always use one of the Conjurom brand condoms on the ring of the urJoy Orgasm Summoner. Second, while using the Summoner, to be certain that the ring was in line with your “preferred penetrative orifice.” Third, be sure to use plenty of lube. That last is always good advice, in my book.

Finally, the book lists several small chants that can be used to “exponentially increase operator’s satisfaction.” I won’t repeat it here, but if you get your own urJoy Orgasm Summoner,it is included in the booklet. Personally I used the one marked for a “Full-filling Experience.”

I lit a few candles around the room, and put on some quiet music. I pulled out one of the Conjurom condoms, and opened it up. As it lay flat, it also had a pentagram or summoning circle (Clair, one of my readers, says it’s actually a Solomon’s Circle! Thanks Clair, a bottle of lube is coming your way!). It was also shaped slightly differently so it could sit inside the cock ring of the Summoner, which had special flaps to hold the Conjurom..

If this all sounds a bit strange to you, reader, imagine how I felt doing it! Still, I try to use the sex toys according to the manufacturer’s specifications at least the first time, just to be sure I give them the fairest shake of all. And this time, I can say it was totally worth it.

I lay back on my bed with my legs open (is there any other way?) I placed the vibrating part of the urJoy Orgasm Summoner against my clit, being sure that the ring encircled my wet (well-lubed) and hungry pussy. The vibrations were nice, and like all urJoy toys, it felt wonderful against my skin. The motor had enough oomph to send chills up my spine, and would have been good enough by itself.

That’s when I decided to start the chant.

The chant felt very secret cult-like, with a nice rhythm which I matched with movements of the urJoy Orgasm Summoner. I slid the urJoy up and down my pussy as I chanted. My free hand teased my nipple (as you do). Shocks went through my body as I was on the cusp of my first orgasm, then every candle in my room went out and relit. There was a tinge of sulfur in the air, as well.

I barely had time to register that though, as there was the distinct feeling of a cock filling me up. Not just any cock, either, a large thick cock.

I let the urJoy go and it stayed in place, held by an unseen force. An unseen force, I discovered, had hands which grasped and mauled my breasts. I reached up and I could feel the firm muscles of an invisible man above me. When I touched him, I heard the low and raspy demand: “Chant.”

I realized I’d stopped reciting the chant and I picked it up. He fucked me with the same rhythm, and I wrapped my legs around him to urge him on. As I chanted he became more solid, and I saw that his skin was a dark red. He had horns on his head and his tail caressed my legs as he fucked me.

As he became more solid, his hands moved up and held my hands down, and his forked tongue teased my nipples, and his sharp teeth nipped at my breasts. That, dear readers, is when I started coming. I gave up the chant, but it no longer seemed to matter. I’m not sure how long he fucked me — some time between fifteen minutes and forever. Personally, I spent the whole time coming or about to come.

Finally I could tell he was close and he pounded into me. He cried out, shouting out “Yess!” in a horrible and earthy tone, and I could feel him pulsing inside of me. I let out a scream and orgasm of my own, and then he was gone, nothing to think he was there, but a used (yet empty?) condom and the smell of sulfur in the air.

And a very satisfied Rosie.

I slept the sleep of the innocent that night, I tell you. Only I’m pretty sure I’m not. Innocent, that is.

The next morning there was no sign of him but the (completely) empty Conjorom and a few beautiful love-bites on my breast. The pentagram-marking on the Conjorom were distorted and distressed, and I felt sure they’d been responsible in restraining my demon lover.

A quick check of the urJoy website tells me two things. First, the urJoy Orgasm Summoner is easily one-third of the normal cost for an urJoy toy. The urJoy Conjurom’s however, come in a five pack, and are easily 5-10 times the price than normal condoms at your local grocer’s. Personally, I wouldn’t use the toy without them. But then I’ve got four more, and I plan to use every last one.

I give the urJoy Orgasm Summoner eight levels of hell out of nine, but only because of the limited uses and the lock-in for Conjuroms.

Rosie Risqué is an homage to Daisy Danger, who – as far as I know – has never summoned a demon for her own personal satisfaction.

The Haunted Menagerie

I would have made it out, but for the shoes.

You pay your two bits, they say, you go through the Menagerie, and you see things the likes of which never appear on Earth. Daunting things, horrible things… wonderful things (lustful things). You can take as long as you like, but there are two rules.

Two rules, and I broke both of them. If only they hadn’t had the shoes (black patent leather, three inch heels formed into a spike). If not for those shoes, on those feet, on those legs. Six pairs on twelve legs, beckoning me.

Rule number 1: Don’t leave the path. It’s in every fairy story, isn’t it? There’s even railings. You have to climb over them and into the exhibit. I passed grotesque monsters (tongues and limbs flail everywhere and sensual moans waft over the path). There was a squad of well triple-breasted cheerleaders desperate to show off the color of their panties (red thongs or black lace or plain cotton white). A sea of pink skin in the multi-armed lesbian orgy (tongues and limbs flailing everywhere while sensual moans waft over the path).

I passed all that until I saw the shoes. Little holes in the front where red painted toenails covered in sheer hose poked through. The hose ran up the calf and over knees before disappearing. I grabbed the red wooden railing, the paint flaking off where my hands wrenched around it, and I was up and over, and into the garden where they walked.

Break Rule number 1 and you stay in the exhibit until the night is over. Break Rule Number 2 and you must stay there until Halloween is over. I just wanted to see, to know. I knew better than to touch. Surely I knew better than to touch?

Maybe. I would have made it out, but for the skirts.

Pencil skirts, grey and severe and hugging the legs (covered in stockings). I fell to my knees on the grass and looked at them. Hips swayed and legs walked. The shoes which could press or impale. I leaned back my head to look, and I reached out for the zipper on the closest pair of legs.

Rule Number 2 is Don’t Touch.

I pulled the zipper down, damning myself and freeing the skirt, and showing the garter and lack of panties. That’s all there was. Shoes, stockings, garter, legs and hips and pussy. (No torso, no head, no breasts, no..)

Disembodied hands grabbed at my hair. (Don’t touch them and they won’t touch you, that’s the real rule number 2.) The legs stepped over me and the pussy settled down on my mouth, and I licked.

Sensual moans wafted over the path. I don’t know where they came from, but the legs, the hands came, and then there were others. Six pairs of shoes, 12 legs, six pussies, one tongue. I knelt there and they used me.

My clothes disappeared and my hard cock became their plaything. As one rocked on my face, another teased my cock with her heels. Stabbing my balls, pressing my cock into the garden floor.

I stayed there all night. I stayed there until the Menagerie wrapped up and left after Halloween.

That was years ago, five for fifteen? I don’t know. I stay here, and every night they use me. I could leave, but for the shoes.

The shoes always make me stay.

Hot Summer's Day

“It was that kind of day,” he thought. A Southern August summer day, hot and sticky. Walking outside was like trying to walk against a river current. The very air resisted you. He grabbed a black handkerchief out of his back left pocket, and wiped his brow. He fingered the necklace he wore, and the single key on it. Damn it was hot today.

Still, he had to do what he was doing. His eyes scanned the horizon, and the daily thunderheads were building up, threatening a powerful storm. His cock stirred as he thought about the power of the storm, and where he was going.

He trudged into the woods, the green foliage casting a cool glow all around him. The air was just as humid here, but it still felt cooler. A gentle breeze fluttered through the trees, drying the sweat on his brow and further cooling him. Just another mile hike, he thought, before I get to the shack.

They’d built it as kids, Cindy and he. There was a nearby textile plant that dumped pits of detritus and cones of string; pallets and boxes, and all sorts of wonderful junk. They’d spent one summer dragging pieces that they needed further into the woods, behind the mill, behind the city cemetery in a place where no one would go. And with those pieces, they’d built the shack.

Later, as teenagers they’d dragged a mattress out there, and used it to experiment in other ways. They had never dated — that wasn’t their way. But there was an agreement there, that they would always be there for each other, at the shack.

His parents had moved away after he went to college, but Cindy’s family stayed in town. Cindy went to college for a while, but came home to get married after she got pregnant by her then-beau here. That was life in a small town: some escape and some get trapped. He had offered to marry her, but she had turned him down, with a wan smile. He knew he loved her, always had.

It wasn’t long now, he decided. Just over the creek, and back a few hundred feet. As he navigated through the brambles and vines that had inevitable grown up over their secret pathway, the shack came in view. Metal sheets with a wood room — one of their parents had re-roofed their house, and the two of them disappeared with the extra.

The air seemed to tingle, electrified with possibility. Glancing up through the trees, he saw the storm clouds moving in. He smiled to himself, and walked up to the shack. He didn’t knock, that wasn’t the way. He went on in.

Cindy stood, naked, on the old mattress. Both of her hands handcuffed through a rafter above her head. Her breasts larger than he remembered, but still firm despite the baby. Her stomach rounded, her hips wide and inviting just as he remembered. A fading bruise on the side of face made his hands clench, but old promises kept him from saying anything.

He walked up to her, and ran his hands over the stretch marks on her belly. “Hi, Cindy,” he said.

“Hello Master,” she said.

He shed his clothes, laying them to the side. Wind whipped around the shack, and thunder rumbled in the air. Cindy moaned. He smiled and kissed her deeply, running his hands over her breasts. He caressed her face over the bruise, and she blushed and looked down. He shook his head and sighed. If only, he thought, but no.

He removed the necklace and brought the key to the handcuffs, and let her down. He helped her lie on the old single bed, and he kissed his way down her body. She spread her legs willingly, and he slid between her as the thunder clapped again, and rain began to pelt against the shack.

They had built many things well, together. Their friendship, their promises, this shack. Not everything worked the way they wanted — water even now ran in from under the shack’s walls, but he loved her, and she loved him. His cock slid inside her pussy, and she let out a sigh of longing finally fulfilled.

Her legs settled on his shoulders, and he held her arms down as he entered her over and over. Bent double, she climaxed long before him, over and over again. He felt her cunt tighten down around his cock, and he smiled at her. “Kegels,” she whispered. He fucked her harder.

Afterwards he lay beside her, running his hands idly over her body, tracing the outline of the bruise on her face. “You could come with me…”

“No..” she said silencing him with a finger.

He cried a single tear, and turned away. “The rain is stopping.”

“Time to go back,” she lamented. She handed him his discarded necklace and key. “Thank you,” she said. He took back his key and began to dress. She slipped the handcuffs back into a hidden place they had added to the shack.

“I –”

“Shh, Master,” she said. She kissed him, half dressed. Half naked, he thought.

“When?” he asked.

“You know,” she reminded him.

“I really wish…” he pleaded.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied.

He turned to leave. “I really do love you,” he said as he left the shack.

“Happy Birthday, Master,” she responded.

It was already getting hotter and more humid as the sun came out. It was that kind of day.


Day of the Dead

October is here, and that means Halloween stories all month!  Enjoy!

Hello Sexy Friend!

As many of you are aware, I have returned from my tour of the southern continents by way of my family’s ancient estate in Estonia. I have made a miraculous and important discovery — in fact I made it months ago, and have travelled throughout the world in order to confirm it. In fact, I have confirmed it on every continent where people who fuck live.

My many times great-grandmother, Agnes Hardwin, made an important discovery regarding the Day of the Dead, also known as Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve, or more recently, Halloween. In fact, her discovery has helped bring about the age of reason and rein in the superstitious belief in the spirits — which I have to tell you was absolutely true (if holding us back as a race).

It is true that on Halloween, the boundaries and borders between the physical realm and the afterworld are at their thinnest. At that point, our world takes on a more spiritual aura, and it’s possible for the dead to cross over, back into our world, for a time. In ancient and medieval times, these spirits would come here, be entranced by the living and remain, accounting for many of the stories of superstition and fancy that confounded us.

Yet it was my great-many-times-great-grandmother Agnes who reasoned that if our world was more spiritual at that time, then the spirit world was more physical. That, in fact, Halloween is the one time when the spirits of the other world are actually able to touch and to feel each other.

She records in her diary that these are the largest desires of the spirits, and why they come here — to possess us and once again feel the sensations that they missed in the afterlife. Yes, ghosts came here, to our world, in order to fuck.

But only a few very powerful ghosts can actually cross the barrier. But just as the spiritual world intrudes on ours, we intrude on theirs. Just as powerful ghosts can cross over here, powerful witches and sorcerers can pass there on that special night. And Grandma Agnes was extremely powerful.

Her diary discusses how she raised the energy by inviting thirteen lovers and their thirteen lovers to her house the last week of October, leading up to the Day of the Dead when she was able to harness the fucking energy and open a portal into the netherworld. She passed through the gate and disappeared for a full year.

When she returned, she told a tale of teaching the ghosts to use the physical sensations of our world during this time to touch, to feel and to fuck each other. By staying there, she bound the physical world there, and she was the center of a year-long spiritual orgy. The remainder of her diary is an exhaustive sex manual that would put the Kama Sutra to shame if it were properly understood. (Thanks to the Collette-Ashbee Collection for restoring Agnes’ diary, and allowing me to cast divination spells upon it to translate. It’s my understanding they’re working on copying it.)

The important thing is that the spirits take up the most lustful person in the world to be in their realm for a year and a day. The other most important thing is that some of the spirits have been doing this for hundreds and hundreds of years — so they’re likely very very good at it. This truism is why Halloween costumes have gone from scary to sexy in the interim, even though that is not enough to summon the jaded spirits of the otherworld.

And that is why I’m inviting you, and as many lovers as you’d like to invite (who would be willing to participate, of course). I’ve freed up a good portion of my estate to fly us all to the ancient Hughes estate, the site of Agnes’ ancient orgiastic ritual. There we will fuck and suck our way through the month of October, and on the last day of the ancient year, the gateway will open and one of us — the most lustful — will head out into the otherworld for another year of sexual learning like has never been had in your imaginings.

I mean for it to be me, but it could be you, if you accept my invitation.

Samuel Hughes, Esq.

RSVP with the number in your party, and when you will be free to fly.

And thanks to Shon Richards for the use of his librarians. You should go there, he’s the one who started this whole October-Halloween-Stories thing.

The Sultan's Slave Rejected

This stands alone, but follows on from The Sultan’s Slave

The harem was dark when Sherri returned. The Sultan had demanded a story, and she had proffered one, but he had not returned the favor of his bed. The eunuch guards brought her back to the harem, but did not enter.

She found her way to the pillow bed that was her normal place of sleep, when the Sultan did not desire her company. She pulled off her silks, and lay down, and closed her eyes relaxing. Hands wrapped around her arms, and held her down. Other hands pulled her legs apart. There were people all around her.

She opened her eyes to absolute darkness. The windows were shuttered, the gas lamps out, there was nothing to see. “The Sultan didn’t want you tonight,” whispered someone in her ear.

Another member of the harem licked her nipple, bringing it to hardness. “He has someone else to warm his bed.”

A third voice, stroking her cunt. “Your sister.” Laughter, and soft caresses.

“No,” Sherri said. “She can’t protect herself.”

“Neither can you,” said the second voice, biting hard down on her nipple. Sherri cried out in pain.

Hands, fingers assailed her private areas, arousing them, delighting in her body’s moisture.

“You like it this way.”

“Does he hold you down, and ride you?”

“Does he stick his cock in your mouth and fuck your face?”

“Does he take you like a dog?”

After every question, the voice would lick and tease at her. She started to answer, and her mouth was covered as another of her sister-wives lowered her cunt to Sherri’s mouth. Someone licked her pussy.

“Don’t you know we’re all lonely?”

“You’ve been taking all his time with your stories.”

“Lick my lonely cunt, sister-wife.”

The woman between Sherri’s legs redoubled her efforts, and Sherri rode the wave of pleasure, rocking with orgasm.

“Tell him this — it will make a great story,” whispered the voice in her ear. “He may even want us again.”


Replacement Lover

It was as if she didn’t need him anymore, James thought. They were still married, he was still her submissive, but nothing was the same. Nothing had been, since she brought him home.

Alex was his name, and he was a big man. Tall, muscled, huge. Even his cock was a monster — two inches wide and ten inches long (James remembered how she made him measure it.)

Their lovemaking — at least his part in it — had become routine. She’d lock him up as soon as he got home from work. Alex would arrive soon after and they’d adjourn immediately to their bedroom. Then she’d call for him, and he’d crawl to the bedroom.

She’d left him no choice. James’ hands and ankles bound together, so he could only shuffle into the bedroom. Once there, Alex and his wife would already be naked. His wife, his Mistress, would have her legs splayed wide. Alex’s gigantic member would be bouncing, ready.

“Get me wet,” she would command. James occasionally wondered why she wasn’t already wet — she’d never had a problem with that before, but most of the time he was too quickly thrust against her cunt. He’d lick her until her juices were flowing and she was covered in spit. Then Alex would grab him and shove him out of the way.

Alex’s huge cock would pierce her slit, stretching it obscenely wide. James had not choice but to watch it slide, inexorably in and out of his Mistress’ cunt. She would moan in ever increasing pitch and tempo crying out in loud orgasm. Alex would fill her cunt soon after with an apelike grunt.

Then she’d demand his attention again. “Clean me out James.” She would usually come as his tongue sought out Alex’s offensive cum, swallowing it down as he did so. Lately, Alex had been demanding similar services, and James was forced to suck and lick the giant thing that had fucked his wife.

After he was clean, and newly hard, Alex would push him off the bed onto the wooden floor. He’d climb into the bed, spooning with his wife, running his cock between her asscheeks, sometimes fucking her again, sometimes drifting off to pleasant sleep.

Their loud lovemaking was his new alarm clock, and he was called again to cleaning service. After he was done the dominating couple would release him with only enough time to shower and dress before he had to return to work.

After he got to work, he’d find a bathroom. Any one would do, but he preferred ones that weren’t on his regular floor. He’d find a stall, drop his pants, and free his continuously hard cock. He’d masturbate, thinking of the morning and the night before, and the way they had used him.

James dreaded getting caught. By work, or worse, by his wife. But she hadn’t let him touch himself when she was around since she brought Alex home.

And James found he couldn’t resist.


Hello Sexy Internet-land!

This is Slave Misty, and I want to update you a bit on our Fuckstarter. We got off to a pretty good start, but now we’re in the low part of the campaign, when there’s not a lot of new people committing to our campaign. So, we’re urging you to share our project (link) and to tell others about it back the project if they haven’t, or chip in via the Flattr or PayPal links below. Please, I was getting used to getting fucked regularly and things are drying up if you know what I mean.

I need to get fucked.

Anyway, some people have asked me, “Mindy, other than you getting fucked, what is the benefit to backing your Fuckstarter?”

Well, that’s a good question. As I said before, you get more from us. Erotic tales of how we fucked in abandon. Pictures of my bruises for when I misuse social media. Vines of me rolling around naked in the Fuckstarter money. That sort of thing.

Personally I think pictures of me are worth backing the Fuckstarter at the higher tiers. And if enough people donate, there will be erotic stories, and a podcast of my screams as I count out the number of backers one by one. I know you’ll like that, and so will I as, Sir doesn’t spank me that hard without a good fucking.

And I do need to get fucked.

Speaking of getting fucked, and finding a fucker and a fuckee to fuck with, we’ve been approached by the social media site, SexedUp, which connects you to your lovers and lets you endorse people for their various skills from cunnilingus to shibari. Master has promised to try out any skills that I’m endorsed on (pussy fucking ass fucking any fucking) , and to use any of his endorsed skills on my “sammy whiny slave ASS”. (I already endorsed him on fucking, spanking, bondage and fucking — you could to, maybe?)

Overall SexedUp is a great way to connect with other people who also have sex. So no nuns or priests, but pretty much everyone else should have a use for it. Oh, and make sure you endorse SlaveMisty not SlaveMisty69Dude, as that’s just a secondary account I made for.. nevermind, Master is coming, hopefully to fuck me.

I do so need to get fucked.

Edit: Master will be making the next few updates as Slave Misty has been banned from using the internet directly.

Truck Stop

I pulled the dark hood over my face, and set up the spy telescope. I told myself it was mainly so I could keep my subbie safe, but I knew there were two other reasons. First, to watch, because it would be hot, and second, to catch my subbie at breaking the rules. I felt my cock twitch at the thought of punishing him, an almost inevitable happening.

Below my perch was a mostly deserted rest area. It was night, and all that was there were five or six trucks, parked around the back as the drivers slept. Oh, that and a tiny Saturn Ion, which just pulled in off the interstate. Zooming in with the telescope, I confirmed it was my subbie. Right on time too, I realized as I checked my watch.

I watched as he killed the lights, locked the car, and pulled a condom out of his pocket. That was his assignment: fill three condoms with trucker’s sperm, nothing more, and nothing less. I was betting that the little sub boy couldn’t stop once he got the three filled. Of course, he didn’t know I was watching, either. It shouldn’t matter.

I watched as my boy approached a truck and negotiated with the driver. I zoomed in, and was able to see the shadows, as his head bounced up and down on a strange man’s cock. He slid out, and I watched as he tied the condom, and slid it into his pocket. Two more to go.

The second was a woman who waved him away, uninterested. The third was much like the first: a suck, a blow, and a tied up condom. The fourth truck though, I could see he was going to have a problem. He knocked on the door, and it opened. At the same time, though, I saw a passenger come from the back. There were two guys there.

My subbie already had his condom around the driver’s cock, his head bobbing up and down. Then I saw the guy from the back, as he dropped his pants and rolled one on. He easily slid my subbie’s shorts down, and then into my boy’s ass. I smiled and freed my own cock and watched as he got fucked.

With my hand around my cock and balls, stroking slowly, I watched as he went to the other trucks, sucking and fucking the other truckers. After all, in for a penny, in for a pound. I imagined the punishment I would give him, as I snapped off a few pictures. I jacked off into the woods, and closed up my pants.

A couple new trucks came in, and he moved to them, too. He let himself get fucked in the ass by some other trucker. Tomorrow he’d be punished. But then it was his idea of a good time.


Faye's Return

When Richard got home, he discovered that Faye had returned.

It’s not like he could have missed it.

She knew he always entered through the front door. He parked the car in the driveway despite the 2-car garage, because he’d turned it into a heated and finished room, even if the ceiling were higher than absolutely necessary for normal use. She also knew that anyone who came in through the front door could see directly back into the dining room for the foyer.

So that’s where she was when he came home.

The table was cleared off, and she’d bent over it. Her hands might have been tied, if she’d managed that somehow, but he couldn’t tell from the foyer. She was wearing black six-inch heels, thigh-highs with a line up the back attached to black garters. She also wore a short skirt that rode up her ass and gave him a direct view of her perfectly framed pussy. The lips of her pussy jutted out like a pout and light glinted off the moisture there. She was either aroused or prepared with lube, probably both.

Richard set his briefcase down next to the table in the foyer. He emptied his pockets of loose change, keys, wallet, all into a small bowl that he left there. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in the coat closet, and took of this shoes and lined them up with his other inside the closet.

A week ago he’d have been happy to see her like this, he’d have dropped his things carelessly by the door and walked down the short hallway, pulling out his cock and sinking it deep within her. But she hadn’t been there; she hadn’t been there for a month since the big fight. He could still hear the door slam as she left, unwilling to answer his question or even explain why she wouldn’t answer.

He’d called her of course, texted her, sent her an email. He’d even gone by her apartment and knocked on the door, only to be asked — politely — to leave by her roommate, Lorraine. That had been two weeks ago. He’d written her one more email, explaining what he wanted, and why, and asking her again. That email had gone unanswered, as well.

And last week he’d given up. She was gone, and it was time for him to move on.

But now, here she was. Half-naked on his dining room table, bent over and ready for him.

He considered as he pulled off his tie, and decided she’d just have to wait.

He walked back to his room and methodically changed into some more comfortable clothes. Normally he’d just throw on a robe, but not tonight. She’d know what that meant, too. He grinned to himself, and shook his head.

He walked back down the hall, and saw that she was in the same position as before. He cut through his den, and into the kitchen, and poured himself a beer. He walked into the dining room. Her hands were flat on the table, unbound, and unmoving. Her black hair cascaded over her head, obscuring her face where it was mostly pressed into the table. She wore a white blouse of some kind.

He sat down at the table. She let out a breath, but didn’t say anything. He took a sip of his beer, and brushed her hair away from her face. She was crying. He pursed his lips. “Tell me, Faye, does your phone work? Your email? Your computers?”

She nodded. “I guess I knew that, or you wouldn’t be here, like this.” He took another sip of his beer. “You’re about a week late,” he said.

A sob left her lips and her whole body shook. “I didn’t say too late,” he said. “Just late.” The last was almost a whisper. He slammed his hand down on the table, and she jerked. “Dammit, Faye, I gave up. I assumed I had your answer. You didn’t talk to me, Lorraine sent me away, your work wouldn’t forward calls.

“I left you alone, because — what else could I do? I reached out, and nothing, just a blank wall. Do you care to explain that?”

She shook her head. He closed his eyes. She was serious. He took another sip of his beer. He looked her in the eye, and she looked right back at him. Her eyes said it all. “Use me, take me, make me yours just like you wanted.” And she was here, following the rules he’d laid down that night. The ones he’d yelled at her in the fight, telling her his secret fantasy. By then he’d already asked the question, and she’d balked.

But now she was here, and she was staring at him with those submissive eyes, and he was getting hard and he had to admit that he’d given up on her, but here she was, quiet and ready for him.

“Go home, Faye,” he said. “We’ll have lunch tomorrow and talk about it. Figure out some way to make this work that’s fair to both of us.

She shook her head, and her gaze became defiant, challenging him. Challenging him to make her, or to take her. The fire that was in the core of her was still there. He felt himself relaxing a bit.

“Okay,” he said. “You’ve made your mind. I wish I knew what had changed your mind, and I don’t think I can get you to tell me now.”

She just shook her head, and he sighed regretting his words from when she left. “Don’t say a word to me,” he’d said, “until you’re ready to say yes or no.” And then he’d brought out the ring and she’d fled.

He stood up and walked around the table, running his hands over her as he went. His hands gripped her ass, and he slid a hand down her crack, idling over her asshole for a moment, then gliding around her pussy and down her thighs. He played with the tops of her nylons, then let go, and walked around the table again.

He left the room, and watched her for a minute before he made his decision. Checking his watch, he sighed. There wasn’t much time.

He entered the dining from for the foyer, and brought his hand down on her right ass check. The sound was perfect, thankfully, and filled the room with the sound of the smack. His handprint stood out red on her white skin. She hissed, drawing in her breath, and then he smacked her other ass, for a second perfect stroke.

Her fingers scabbled against the table, as she struggled to be still, to not say anything, to not be too excited. He walked back around in front of her and sat down again. He set the ring box on the table. “Lorraine was right,” he said. “Wives — spouses — are equals. They’re both part of a partnership, and while they take on different roles, they are equal partners. She said that was your problem with it, is that right?”

She nodded.

“I can think of no greater gift than to have a partner — my equal — as my submissive. I don’t understand people who want the submission of those lesser than them. That’s easy to get, it’s almost a given. But for an equal, which you have always been Faye, that’s something much better.”

He opened the ring box, and the diamond engagement ring shone in the light. Her eyes grew large, and again demanding. She licked her lips and wiggled her ass expectantly. It was more than he could take. He checked his watch again, and stood.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. He stood, leaving the ring right where it was. He unzipped his pants, and walked around the table. Behind her, his cock out, he grabbed her ass and slid into her. She let out a gasp, but not a word.

She was warm and tight and wet. Some of it was lube, but not all of it. He’d been right about that. “You should have come here last week,” he said.

He slid in and out of her, pressing her against the table. “I’d have fucked you on the table, and then I’d have asked you the question, and you could have answered me and things could have gone on to normal. Or the new normal anyway.” She whimpered a bit at this. He grabbed her ass, and slide in and out of her. She was breathing fast as he fucked her.

“I love you so much, Faye,” he said. He fucked her faster, and spanked her ass a few more times as he fucked her. She started to come beneath him, and he knew he wouldn’t be long. It had been a month, longer than he’d gone in years.

“I am going to ask you the question tonight,” he said. “But you really should have come sooner.”
He slammed into her, pounding her hard, and he filled her up with his come. He pulled out of her and walked around the table. She moved enough to suck his cock, cleaning him off as he’d trained her.

He brushed her hair back away from her face. “I can’t wait to use you forever,” he said. “I can’t wait to ask you the question. But when you answer it, as I hope you will, I have plans for you that will take us all night.”

The doorbell rang and he checked his watch. “Right on time,” he said. “You should have come last week, Faye,” he said. “Tonight’s my night to host the poker game.”

He pulled out of her mouth and stuffed himself back into his pants. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Well,” he said. “If you say yes, it won’t be the last time you help me host it.”

He walked into the foyer, looking back and seeing her still there, her pussy moist with his juices. The doorbell rang again, and he went to let in his poker buddies, wondering how much cards they’d actually get to tonight, since his table was taken.