Tall Oaks Don’t Tell Tales

I haven’t mentioned Annie in a long, long time. You can get a feel for her here, here, and here.

Annie and I were together for several years. One weekend we attended the wedding of a young man who worked in my office, and with whom I played on a sports team. I was his mentor in business, doing my very best to teach and smooth over some very rough edges. But on the sports field, he taught me the subtleties and intricacies, as he had played this game professionally. So we had become reasonably close as mentor and student, switching roles in and out of the office. As well, Annie had become close friends with his fiancée.

The wedding was on a brilliant July Saturday afternoon, with both the ceremony and the reception at a classy suburban golf and country club. We were all dressed to the nines. I had on my newest, classy, top of the line suit, and if I do say so myself … I looked … ahem … pretty damn good. Definitely rakish. With my longish greying locks, think Richard Gere on a bad hair day. And Annie? With a figure hugging new blue dress, long slit showing off her perfectly rounded 36Cs, and her firm ass, she was every man’s dream date.

The bride was beautiful, the groom dashing. The self prepared vows they swore were tasteful and contemporary. As the bridal party left for the photograph session, we all headed for the bar, which had been set up on a nearby patio. The booze was flowing and nobody seemed to notice the long absent wedding party, as the photographer must have been taking his time.

At this point let me remind you again that Annie was gorgeous. And very much a sexual vixen. Which kind of fit pretty well with the way I was handling myself in those years. It may not come as a big surprise to you either, that after 3 or 4 drinks, Annie’s dress with the deeply plunging neckline and her soft sexual banter in my ear in her mother tongue were starting to get a rise in a particular area of my anatomy. She giggled and taunted me mercilessly once she could see my situation. Something needed to be done! An immediate remedy was required!

Off in the distance to the right of where we were, I could see a small copse of trees. I wondered if they could possibly shield us from being discovered if we were able to partake in some naughtiness. Here at this exclusive Country Club. In public view. Dressed as we were.  I could see the trees were all alone, a bit apart, as no fairway passed close to them.

“Let’s go for a walk, Beautiful,” I said as I grabbed Annie’s hand and headed toward the trees.

We walked about 50 yards. The trees were a dozen tall, stately oaks. Though the branches didn’t start until far off the ground, the trunks of the trees were exceptionally large and I was pretty sure would act as a secure screen from an unwelcome peering.

We found our spot, 3 trees in and to the left. On the away side from the clubhouse.

This wasn’t a time for romance.  This wasn’t a time for sweet talking. There was no time!

Annie quickly pulled down her tights and lifted her dress. I unzipped.

It was pure “Slam! Bam! Thank you M’am!”

Or maybe “I demur! You made me purr! Thank you, Sir!”

One and done.

We quickly cleaned up after the deed was finished. Certain the tall oaks would keep our secret. Only they knew what had just happened.

And now so do you, faithful readers. I hope you will keep my secret, too.

After all, I may want to join the Country Club one day.

Sometimes I Get Embarrassed … When Girls Talk

I have decided to revisit certain posts from time to time. Call them a Marty-Replay.  Posts I like. Or I’m happy with how they were written and catch the moment just right. Or are particularly relevant even now. But mostly that I like. Here’s the 2nd.  I’m sure most of you are not familiar with Marcie. If you are curious, here is some background.

Here    and   here

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.

 

Here’s a bit of an update …

600full-alessandra-ambrosio[1]I haven’t mentioned her in I don’t know how long … the very lovely Bella. Click these links if you’d like a bit of quick history on her.   When we met  …  how she can affect me …  and how even keeled she is … She’s not as a young as the girl in this pic, but every bit as striking in her bikini, with deep brown eyes and slim, firm athletic legs.

She has, of course, been much in the background most of the past year. We are still friends, and have always been in touch regularly.  Although I haven’t been, until recently,  responding to her texts and calls as quickly as I used to, that has all changed.  And she is still as stunning as ever. To see that cute, perfect ass in a pair of tight shorts can be overwhelming. I still remember the first time I saw her 5 years ago. How my head kept swiveling in her direction. How I thought she was oblivious to it. She wasn’t!

But over the past month or two, I think she has sensed a change in me. A growing glow towards her.  We have been getting closer again. Daily good morning and good night texts, and regular contact throughout the day. She has been out of town most of the past month and I do miss her presence. There are times I fancy her very much.

I wonder if this might be headed somewhere?

Midweek Fantasizing … The Letter

This hasn’t happened. It’s a total figment of my imagination. I just kind of day dreamed it the other day.

Cassandra came to see me in my small corner of your globe. It was just a quick visit on a Saturday. She managed to stop off for a day on the return trip from some business thing-ma-jig she was on. So I thought I had better make good use of the time I had with her.

We strolled leisurely down by the water, close and occasionally touching, but no PDA. Neither of us are really into that. She was enjoying seeing me relaxed in my village, in my element, where I’m very comfortable.

The mid-afternoon sun was becoming quite warm so I suggested it was time for a cold beer. I had planned ahead. Cassandra thought this was a superb idea and we headed for a nearby bar. The pub’s outdoor patio was lively and perfect for people watching, a Cassandra-favored activity. I knew this, but instead I suggested we find a table inside.

“Why Darling? It’s so lovely outside. And lots of people.” She knows that in my climes, we need to take advantage of any sunshine we can get.

But I was firm … “No Baby, I want to go inside. I think my pale skin has had enough exposure for today.”

“Ok” she pouted, “if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I sweetly smiled. I knew it wasn’t making my girl happy, but I rarely do things without a purpose. Cassandra well knows this, but for some reason she didn’t further question my choice.

We found a small table at one end of the bar. It was far from crowded inside and we had our pick of spots. The pub’s dark wood finishes all around would be very warm and cozy on a chilly winter day, but this afternoon they lent an air of coldness and an almost gloomy vibe. Cassandra was not her usual beaming self. I just inwardly smiled. The server approached, raised her eyebrow toward me, and indicated in the affirmative when I ordered two pints of a local brew.

“Oh look,” I said. “Maybe there will be a group performing” as I nodded to a nearby corner where there was a stand up microphone sandwiched between an electric keyboard and two large congas.

“Hmmpphh. Maybe. I hope so.” Cassandra retorted.

And just as she finished snarling her words 3 grizzled veterans of the 1960s strolled up to the mike and instruments. My kind of guys!

“This could be fun!” I said, hoping to drum up some interest. No reaction.

The “boys” immediately broke into Ray Charles’ “Georgia On My Mind“. And it was good!

The songs began to roll out out in a constant stream, mostly blues, and then some older pop hits. These boys were taking no breaks!

Now Cassandra and I are alike, and at the same time,  so very different. I’ve touched on these things before, but I should also tell you she plays the piano. Classical. Me? I’m musical, too. Ask me anything about the British Invasion.  Same part of the brain I figure … only a different mix and quality of neurons.

Cassandra’s mood was rapidly improving despite the dark interior of the pub.

“The singer reminds me so much of Joe Cocker” she chimed in as she tapped her foot to the groove happening a few feet away.

“Mmmmhmm” I answered while slurping my ale, trying not to choke as I chuckled.

She was correct, of course. He sounded a lot like Joe … a small register higher, and an itsy bit less of a rasp, fewer arm and hand gestures, but the similarity was irrefutable.

“I love Joe Cocker!”

“I know” I smiled. “You used to hear him while riding in your daddy’s truck when you were small.”

“That’s right! How did you remember that?”

I smirked downing another sip. Cassandra was full-on giggly-happy right now.

I told her how I had first been exposed to and got into Joe Cocker, as a young barman in a South London pub, pouring pints while watching him on telly on Top Of The Pops.

The band then did an unbelievable rendition of Ben E King’s Stand By Me. I think this was going to be a Celebrate the Great Ones Recently Gone Saturday for the band.

There was pronounced applause from every corner of the room. The bar was totally full and fully rockin’ at this point. The singer smiled broadly. As the cheering ended, the singer looked towards me. I smiled and not so discretely nodded back to him.

In my mind, Joe Cocker was absolutely the best rock interpreter of other peoples’ songs. He covered songs as well as, or often better, than the original. Think about With A Little Help From My Friends, or You Are So Beautiful, Ain’t No Sunshine, and several others. Including the one that I had prerequested … heh heh … The Letter.

On cue, the piano played the familiar opening chords and I watched as Cassandra’s eyes lit up. She knew what was coming …

“Come on, Baby! Let’s dance!” I shouted.

“Yes!” she laughed. “I don’t care if we’re the only ones!”

This is one thing Cassandra and I have never done … danced.

And we did! My lord she’s a great dancer. Such wonderful rhythm as I twirled her and swung her, as I hugged her, I dipped her. We danced cheek to cheek, we laughed. And I watched the older audience eat it up watching us … the vintage male with a few moves charming the hot blonde babe.  The raised eyebrows and nods of first disbelief, then comprehension.

All to The Letter.

We had to leave. The bulge in my jeans was much too obvious now. It needed to be taken care of. ASAP.

Here’s the late great man himself. This reminds me I need to get one of those hot, black female bass players for myself.

 

Midweek Fantasizing … So I Picked Up this Hot, Young Chick in a Bar

montana%20bar%20Miles%20city[1]

I walked into the bar after my long day on a Monday night in a far off town I was visiting. Just off the highway. Several pickups parked outside. None of them foreign pickups either, I might add.

Inside, the bar had a real cowboy look to it. Even in the dim light I could tell this place was a bit of a dump. But it felt like a comfy dump, if you know what I mean. The U-shaped bar straight ahead only had 4 or 5 people around it, and there was a couple playing pool off to the right on one of the tables. A small, empty stage was further back. Probably used on the weekends, not enough customers tonight that’s for sure.

I sat my sorry ass down on a stool on the right side of the bar. There was no one on that side, so that suited my wish to be alone. I was also close to the tiny, open kitchen so it would be easy to sample the burgers and ribs. Yep, you guessed it. I’m a real foodie, too.

The woman serving behind the bar was probably all of 22. Very cute, very blonde to her shoulders, very built, and sporting a very low cut top. I don’t mind saying my view was going to be excellent. Even when she served the other side of the bar, her shorts-clad tight ass would merit all of my nuanced focus.

Very Blonde pulled my draught while I studied every inch of her. Not much could go wrong with that I figured.

As I lovingly sipped the tall cool one, just for a second I took my eyes away from Very Blonde. I nearly choked! I know my eyes widened. Directly across from me on the other side of the bar, nursing a beer was another blonde. While Very Blonde was young and cute, Far-Side Blonde had short hair, maybe a decade or so more in years, and the perfectly beautiful face that suited the cool sophisticate she obviously was. How could I tell all that from 40 feet in a dimly lit bar? Years and years of experience, my friends. An expertise that has been finely developed and tuned.That rarely fails to deliver.

But, holy shit … Far Side Blonde was looking right at me over top of her beer. No! She couldn’t be! If she was earlyish 30s, she wouldn’t be looking at me. I may have had some looks back in the day, but to her, this vintage has way too many years in the barrel to even merit a glance from such a beauty. Probably watching the couple playing pool behind me, I bet. I turned to watch, too. But no, they were no longer playing. What gives here?

And what is Far Side Blonde doing here? Not exactly her normal milieu I’m guessing. How did I miss her when I came in? You’re losing it, Marty-boy! Big time. Distracted by the shiny 22-year old baubles. That’s 5 minutes of high quality gawking you’ve just squandered.

I’m trying not to be too obvious as I stare at her. Right! You’re not obvious at all Marty, my friend. She’ll never notice.

Wait! She’s getting up … is she leaving? No, can’t be. Her glass is still 2/3 full. Umm … she’s walking around the bar, my way. Gulp, now what am I gonna do?

Oh, whew … she’s going to the bathroom. They’re not far from where I’m sitting, near the pool tables. That was close. Did she glance at me and give me a half smile as she walked by? No, I don’t think so. Your imagination is playing tricks on you again, Marty.

I went back to my beer and took a long sip. Was I perspiring? I think I was. Not only was Far Side Blonde stunningly beautiful, but she was extremely well built, too. Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!

I was lost in inappropriate thoughts of her when I felt a presence to my right.

“Hi there!. How are you?” I heard in a dulcet, silky tone.

There she was … beside me, touching my elbow with her hand. I was aghast!

“Ummmm …. ummmm … h-h-hello” I stuttered in response. I just stared into her eyes.

“I watched you come in.”

“You d-did?” I asked in an amazed voice.

“I did. I haven’t seen you in here before”.

“Um … no … I’m just here for a few days. Taking a course.”

“Oh? A course? What on?”

I hesitated.

“Uhhh … uhhhh … uhhhh … I … for …get.” I stammered

Far Side Blonde chuckled. “Oh, I see. I’m sure it will come back to you.”

“Probably. Later” I added.

“Is your hotel near here?” this beauty asked me

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

“Because I want you to whisk me out of this place, and ravish me all night long in your hotel room” she affirmed. “Then repeat in the morning.”

“You do?” I gasped. I sat there stunned.

“I do! So let’s pay our bills and get out of here. Now!”

This actually hasn’t happened, of course. But as I was driving home from work, this idea popped into my head. I think it would be fun to enact with Cassandra. Pick her up in a certain bar she is acquainted with. Or her me. Whichever works. Fun to play out, no?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Delicious

186xpd4v3xz9tjpg[1]Last night’s dinner was quite simple. It was simply delicious, too.

I was taken a bit aback when Boudicca’s husband invited me to be seated between them. How could I possibly not smile broadly while accepting?

Not only the dinner was delicious. But the view, too. Of Boudicca’s low cut top. It was quite the trip my eyes traveled last evening.. From her sparkling blue eyes, south to luscious lips and engaging smile, ending with gently heaving bosom. Take a breath, Marty. Repeat. Again. And again. Let the visual feast never end. How the thought of devouring her from head to toe is so very mouthwatering. Add our animated conversation concerning her latest battles royale, light touching, and the whole evening was … yes … delicious.

And when said husband explained to me that he uses the rule for womanizing of “no younger than half my age plus seven” you can imagine the lift my eyebrow took. What did that mean? All sorts of possibilities entered my head. Down boy!

Girl Talk

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.

 

A Weekend at the Cottage

dockOne summer I was still with Marcie, I rented a small cottage on a pristine, quiet lake. It was a hot, dry summer, and the weekends were most memorable.

Right at this moment, one Saturday night of a particular weekend springs to mind. We had driven out from the city on Friday night, and both of us were tired and cranky from the traffic-filled drive, which was on top of a miserable week at the office. That night there was time and inclination for only a drink or two, some dinner, and a blow job and quick fucking.

After some lovely morning sex we spent the rest of the morning in town doing errands and some shopping. Then early afternoon was some pleasant sunbathing on the dock accompanied by the requisite sampling of international brews. Marcie was an expert on hops and yeast varieties used in European beers and ales, and was always sampling several. And then we talked of our upcoming evening barbecue with the neighbors next door. The neighbors were providing the steaks, while we provisioned the wines and imported beers.

The evening next door went well. The steaks were well marbled, juicy and perfectly grilled. The conversation sometimes sparkled.  Marcie was well into her 7th or 8th libation  and I could tell she was getting into that state. We were sitting comfortably in painted Adirondack chairs. As the host and hostess attended to something in the kitchen, I lightly rubbed Marcie’s wrist on the chair arm beside mine. She turned her head and smiled.

“You will be totally dominated tonight my Love” I whispered. “We’ll leave shortly”.

Call it wishful thinking if you want, but I was certain I could feel her pulse quicken as she looked into my eyes and sweetly sighed.

Not too long later we bid our hosts good evening and walked the short bit to our cottage. Straight upstairs to the master bedroom, with Marcie shedding clothing as she wobbily ascended the stairs, until she was completely naked at the bedroom door.

“In front of the mirror … kneel!”  I ordered. As Marcie dropped to her knees I went and turned on the bedside light so I could watch her. She was kneeling on a small carpet (placed there for just that purpose) in front of a full length mirror on the wall. Marcie knew  I wanted her reflection sideways in the mirror. I came back and stood in front of her. Looking up into my eyes, she slowly undid my belt and pulled down my khaki shorts and underwear and began to take me deep into her mouth. She slurped with vigor. I watched her work from both directions … from above, and a side view through the mirror. I find a blowjob is always more erotic when felt, listened to, and viewed from multiple angles.

After about 5 minutes, though the alcohol had probably blunted my need to cum,  I could feel an orgasm approaching. But I had other plans.   I quickly grabbed her by her shoulder length tawny hair and guided her to kneel beside the bed, face on the duvet. Then I pulled out her favorite pair of cuffs from the drawer of the bedside stand and shackled her hands behind her.

“Get up on the bed”, I sternly said.

“Yes, Marty”, she eagerly replied and pulled herself onto her side.

I climbed in beside her and kissed her first gently, then with more passion. I knew her cunt was dripping wet by this time, so there was no need and no inclination for foreplay. I began fucking her hard. She arched with each of my thrusts with her arms pinned behind her. She came once, twice, and then a third time, grunting more fiercely with each new orgasm.

As I felt myself again nearing completion I quickly pulled out of her pussy.  I moved up on Marcie’s face and stuck my cock into her waiting mouth.

“Taste it … taste me … taste us” I blurted.  Then as the pressure became unsustainable for me, I grabbed her hair tightly with one hand, and my cock with the other.  I pumped my cock once, then again and splurted hard all across her face and hair. I pumped some more and a second and third stream cascaded on to her face.

As I lay there panting and Marcie licked and sucked me clean, I knew sleep was not far away. I crawled back down and held her as she softly whimpered.

“Good girl” I whispered. “That was oh so very intense!”

We both fell asleep immediately, Marcie still cuffed and dripping with my semen.  Sometime later (a few hours?) I did wake up and removed Marcie’s cuffs. But the white crusts of ownership would stay until our morning shower.

 

 

When?

It was so good seeing you on your phone’s cam the other night. Even though your family was around so we had to be careful.

But it just reminded me of when. When will I see you in front of me. When will you strip as I sit in the chair and watch? When will I have you on all fours on the bed as I push your head down and run my hands all over your body, feel you tremble beneath my hand and quiver at my words? When will you put your hands behind your back and have me put on the cuffs you love so much? When will I push the plug into your awaiting ass to prepare you? When will I spank your firm ass?

Soon I think!