Beg, borrow and steal

Offerings

Last month, we had a lovely encounter with another FLR couple who came to Maine for a visit. We did not know these people, but John had found them through a mutual following on Twitter. They reached out to him, saying that they were coming to our neck of the woods in Maine to visit the area and wanted to know if we wanted to get together for a drink. John made the arrangements and I ended up meeting the group after a previous engagement had ended.

To say they were delightful is an understatement. Both of them were wonderful and fun, and right away we recognized that their FLR dynamic was similar to our own. What started as a drink turned into 3 fun days of getting together for sight seeing, exploring Portland, shared meals and sexy cocktails in groovy places. We clicked immediately, and both john and I enjoyed the ease, companionship and shared joy that we all experienced. It seemed to me that She and I were the chatters of the group, whereas the men were a bit more on the quiet side. Although….it might be more accurate to say that the boys were perfectly average in their ease of banter while the women were exceptional. Yes…..this is a more accurate statement. Here’s why this is worth mentioning:

During one stop along the way, we were nestled on some comfy couches at a restaurant in front of a fire. Some appetizers had been ordered and placed before us as She and I were  busy chatting away. I became aware that her boy alternated between watching us chat and looking down at the food. Back and forth his hopeful and handsome face would drift, and  yet no food was touched. It struck me as mildly curious but then soon, he was able to catch Her attention and asked if she would like a bite. Her response was “No, not yet, thank you….but you may begin” to which he thanked her and began tasting….but only after he offered to prepare me a plate. So well trained!

A curious look must have passed across my face, as She looked at me, smiled brightly and said “Oh, it’s one of my rules. I tend to be more of the talker and have missed out on too many sips and bites because he will finish eating and drinking before I have even begun. So, I had to create a rule. I am to be offered the first and last bite and sip of whatever he his having. It works perfectly”.

I loved this! What a brilliant, simple, sexy idea! I have often had very similar experiences with John and had not really come up with a reasonable solution about how to deal with it.  I often found it awkward to be in a social setting and find myself wanting to chastise john for not remembering to offer me a taste of his unusual cocktail or meal before he had finished it. Generally, he is pretty good about sharing, but not always, and too many times as we would leave a restaurant and head to the car, I would address him sternly but it was always after the fact. I never liked how those parking lot moments could put a damper on an otherwise lovely evening. John is a good, good boy and I dislike being displeased with him.

This is what I love about spending time with other D/s people……some of the best, most practical things are ideas that are born of others. Some ideas I have stolen outright, and others I have modified for a better fit. This idea…..the ‘first bite/last sip’ rule I mimicked entirely, and it became law as of 01/01/2018.

This is a creative solution as we live with vanillas and often navigate two different worlds.  It would probably seem strange for us to be at home and for him to outwardly ask Me if I wanted a bite of the same exact meal we are all sharing as a household. To avoid that, I have added a rule. He is not allowed to have the first or last bite of a meal until I indicate he is allowed to begin eating. He is to wait patiently, plate untouched. I will either exercise my right to take that first bite, or I will casually and discreetly give a ‘thumbs up’ sign (often camouflaged by my running my fingers through my hair) which lets him know that I acknowledge his offering, but am declining it and he may begin his meal.

I really like this. It’s another leash he can wear no matter where we are or whom we are with. It makes him be attentive to me despite whatever distractions may be going on around us. It is a daily exercise in expectation and protocol….things that vacillate for us. And in an odd way, it makes me feel a bit more connected to our new friends, which I like too. It keeps a bit of their lovely spirit alive and well within us. I smile as I recall the first time I saw the rule in action….him kneeling between the coffee table and the couch, prepared to serve Her, blending in so naturally in a historic restaurant.  With one small wave of her hand, this beautiful woman commanded her boy in a way that seemed effortless and stunning. How could one not steal a page from a playbook such as that?? Thank you, Texas. Your spirit lingers in Maine.

Hello 2018

It’s been a long time since I have posted here, but it’s daily that I think about it.  I have missed this blog. It’s like an old, established friend that I think about but haven’t seen in too long. I’m not quite sure what it is that keeps me away, and I think about this daily too. I don’t have an answer to this particular part, but know that in this early morning hour, as the full moon sets and the below zero temperatures make the air seem thin and the lights of town twinkle brightly, it feels good to sit and write.

We are alive and well, my boy and I. Life has been, and remains, full and happy. The holidays were good. Yesterday was good. We didn’t make any long list of resolutions for the new year. Perhaps some quieter goals….some lofty, some not. But we did have a balanced day, which I love. Some productive chores at home, a couple of errands that needed to be run. To wrap up the day, we went to a hotel lounge that is near our home. I like this place. Easy parking, a fireplace in the bar area, big comfy chairs with lots of sports on lots of TV’s. My boy wore a plug and was still locked in chastity from the night before.  He was instructed to kneel before me as we sat in the lounge at some point during our visit. He complied beautifully, making it look as natural as it should be.

Yes, those around us at the bar looked and noticed. All who happened to look upon our exchange returned the smile I offered. Perhaps it was his kissing of my hand, my cheek. His smile, my smile. I think they liked the love between us that occupied the space. I liked the whole thing….the obedience, the comfort, the companionship, the wine, the fire, the cage and the plug.

The last errand of the day was unexpected to me, although he swears he told me he wanted to make a stop at the Home Depot. But I don’t remember him telling me this, so therefore it must not have happened (the law is the law). He was told he would receive one cane stroke for every minute I ended up waiting in the car. Oh, the protesting! I was a bit surprised at this…..my boy likes the cane. And my tone was playful. Perhaps the protesting was a showing of exuberance and I misread? Yes, I’ve decided. This must be the case.

Yesterday ended softly and our sleep was full. Now it’s morning. It’s the beginning of the work week. The beginning of the year. It’s the quiet time. January is like that in Maine. The hunkering time, as I call it.

That’s it for now….a soft visit to my blog. It’s good to be here. I wish myself many happy returns.

 

Yield

I have found myself in a different state around women in general. I yield. Very often. In the office, I’ll often yield to the ladies in the office (we’re about a 60/40 split F/m) and also at home I nearly always yield as well.

What do I mean yield? Mostly I’m talking about movement. At the office, yielding to the coffee pot, to the tricky blind corner around the reception desk, the doors, etc. At home, with the exception of in the kitchen (because hot things are hot and all the roommates know kitchens as their means of income in some way), I’m yielding. Steps, doors, etc. And even with some things in the kitchen. Though we generally have a “You cook, I clean…” deal, more often than not, if I cook, I’m helping with cleaning or leading most of it. (I did take the Christmas eve dinner cleanup OFF, however! I did cook for 6 hours – and other men cleaned up!).

It doesn’t generally happen in the car because identifying women in the car is just not enough time to process and to assume anything. At least in the office and home everyone’s genders are known.

In general with driving I’ve slowed down so while I’m not giving it away on the road, I’m following most of the rules and waiting my turn at the annoying four way stops. There’s just not enough time to do proper evaluation in a car. It could get messy too easily.

So, well, how is this different?

Well, I’ve become more in touch with my slave side lately. I have put off more of the things that make me happy and tried to ask less of Chloe when we’re playing. I’ve tried to keep up on the things she asks me to do. I’ve tried to impose less on her in general and try to help with more. I’m fully in acceptance of my sexual denial and consider the teasing a very fun thing that I look forward to. I’m perfectly happy to wait for the occasional orgasm that sneaks through and enjoy those as opposed to wanting to cum. (Remember, I can do orgasm w/out ejaculation – and it’s pretty awesome). And I’m also perfectly happy to pleasure my partner and let them roll over and sleep if they want. Frustrating, yes, but part of what I’m there for.

Now, what’s the problem with that John? Well, nothing. But…

(See, there it is!)

But it’s been offering me another instance of trying to offer better service. I think this is a good thing. I’ve often been actively in the process of doing my jobs in the house and had to step back, step aside, move back, redo things that I was doing to yield to the oncoming traffic. And there are a few things to feel about this.

First, I recognize my privilege in this one and realize that women through history have been doing this f o r e v e r. This is nothing foreign to them. Minorities as well. I sometimes see it when I’m the customer at service industry things (hotels, restaurants, etc) and I almost feel bad, but then I know that in some of these places, they’re expected to behave that way. But yes, I recognize that my ignoring this for so long is part of my white male privilege.

Second, I get frustrated. Oh, sometimes it frustrates the hell out of me. “Like, really, I’m trying to do this for YOU, why am I walking back to let you through?” Well, John, you’re moving back because you’re doing it for them, you ninny. Yes, all of it. It’s for them. Do the whole thing for them. You’re not just completing a task, you dolt. You’ve said it before to yourself, that your service is one of the ways in which you’re worshiping them and honoring them, so fucking do it then – all the way! Them coming along and getting “in the way” is not in the way (see point one on this for reminder, John) – it’s part of doing the job. But I do get frustrated. I sometimes cannot help it. I can only try to be better about it in the future and remind myself that the task is from beginning to end and all points in between. And to do the job for the whole job.

And lastly, it really is part of my doing things for people. If I’m not going to let Chloe go by while I carry her clothes upstairs, well, I’m being an idiot and not serving her in the way I should. And I could see where she might sometimes get upset with me and my pushing through with things while I’m doing such things for her. Just plain uncool.

Now, I do need to tack back to the kitchen thing. I don’t know that I can yield too much in the kitchen, particularly on complicated meals. I’m a pretty “mise en place” kind of person in the kitchen. I will proudly state that I’ve made strides in the kitchen, living with foodies. I work much better in a crowded kitchen than I used to. But there are times when I need the focus – and perhaps I need a better way to tell people “Hey, I’m really trying to not fuck this food up, can you come do that later?” or similar – but I’ll work on it. But jeezum, when I’m trying to plate up toast, eggs and the rest of breakfast at the same time for four plates at once, “GTFO da kishun!!!” I can also work on my timing too and get better here.

So, I have noticed I’m yielding much more. I’m certainly showing more deference to women in general. I sometimes get frustrated when I’m yielding, but I’m getting better about dealing with that. I have more work to do.

The third

Our recent foray into finding a third to join in our world has proven, at least initially, successful. Let’s call him Mark. We met Mark thanks to an ad that Mistress posted and he responded favorably. He was among many, of course and almost got lost in the shuffle, but we finally ended up arranging a time to meet. He writes well, has good ideas about playing with the both of us and has experience in playing with couples. Like so many candidates, he’s recently divorced and also finds himself with an empty nest, so this is good all around.

We met for dinner at a place none of us had been to, had a good meal and I had a beer and a half. I admit, I was nervous for the meeting, as there were indications that if things went well, we would go to his house afterward and he’d be taking auditions on my cock sucking ability.

Dinner went well, Madame dismissed me for a few minutes so they could talk privately and we ended up leaving and heading to his place. It seems that all of us were in the mood to play and to see just what we could do.

After following him to his apartment and enough warnings about thin walls and neighbors, I soon found myself naked in the presence of Mark and Mistress. I was directed to the couch where I sat and he climbed up on his knees to see how I’d receive his cock. I suppose this brief part of cock sucking went well, I know that I was enjoying it, and he soon dismissed me to the bedroom, where I was directed to lay down on it. He wasted little time in positioning himself over my face where his cock dove into my mouth and assaulted it. My cock rose and Madame played with it as she watched her boy servicing another man. He directed me well “no teeth!” “Come on, open it up…. ” and there were assertions as to his loving my gurgling as he pounded me. I’d never really taken a cock like this before, but it was nearly inescapable as I’ve ever experienced. I was flat on the bed, he was over me, able to grab my hair and pull me into him and he certainly did fuck me. Madame lay on the end of the bed, reclining, sometimes touching herself and sometimes touching me. She delighted in teasing my cock to hardness only to have me tap her shoulder urgently – indicating her need to stop. I knew she’d never give me permission. Tired of teasing me, she played with herself while Mark continued to fuck my face; sometimes directing me to slow down to stave off his orgasm.

While he claimed to be very verbal, he wasn’t all THAT verbal. I think there was nervousness on all our parts causing some measure of quiet over all of us. Well, not true, I had little choice being unable to talk. These things happen when your mouth is full of cock.

Madame ended up having a nice little cum while watching the show, then returned to touching me and teasing me, but less earnestly now. I’m pretty sure she told Mark to “fuck his face! I love hearing him gag like that”. He complied. She had also commented multiple times about hearing his balls slapping against my face.

Kind of like this, except my cock didn't spill.

Kind of like this, except my cock didn’t spill.

The hardest part of it was getting opportunities to swallow. My mouth would fill with my own spit, some of his pre-cum, and I’d have to end up swallowing to clear the sloshing liquids. I think they both loved hearing all that sloshing face fucking. I remember hearing him give indication he was going to cum, but I don’t remember what those words were. I do remember him picking up the pace and picking up my head by my hair, pulling me onto his cock and his cock deep into my throat. By picking up my head, the gag didn’t happen, so I just held my face there as I could feel his cock pulse, his balls tighten and then the cum was easily sliding down my throat. He was so deep in my mouth that I tasted hardly any of it.

He relaxed his grip after some time, relaxed, pulled himself out of my throat and then out of my mouth. I lapped at his cock to get all the drips and drops. He admonished me to watch out for the sensitive cock head. Aware of how sensitive I am after cumming, I knew exactly what he was talking about. Compliments were handed down to me, the cock sucker. We all lay together in the bed. Madame squeezed my cock a few times gently and I just held on to the both of them and had an orgasm (no ejaculation) while between them… I smiled. A lot.

With little more to talk about other than promising to get together again soon, this cock sucking audition was over. I successfully passed. He got a good cum. She got a good cum. I performed good service and pleased the both of them. Overall, a very good time.

I expect we’ll meet again soon. The Thanksgiving holiday is in the way of more, as we all have families, but I hope to hear from him soon for a followup. He very much wants to pound my ass as much as he pounded my face, but I’m unsure I’m ready for that. And then there’s a part of me that wants to say “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…” and that I want Mistress to simply order him “He’s either ready or not, just fuck his ass.” and we’ll deal with whatever consequences. If he becomes even more verbal and a little more denigrating toward me, I’m sure it will put me into a deeper sub space where almost anything is possible. I really do hope he’ll do that on our next meeting. Mark, if you’re out there, come on and insist on using me again soon. I very much look forward to it.

Been a long time…

Its been a long time since I blogged here. I tend to do that. Go for long spells where I fail to write and then write a whole lot. It can be tedious for the reader and it certainly does gain a loyal following, but it’s how my life is.

I could talk about work and its stresses and demands. I could talk about home life and how its going mostly well, but my world as a “Dad” might be stressed more than I expected it could be. I could discuss my kink, which is going well. And I could discuss my female led relationship, which is also going well. But to pick out a few things might make them seem more “important” or “impactful” than others and I don’t want to annoy or upset anyone by doing that.

But in essence, I kind of need to do that. Instead of writing “all the things!” I’m going to need to pick out a few things here and there and expound on them as regularly as I can. And if I’m including people in the conversations, then they’ll need to know that I’m dancing ^W writing as fast as I can and will get to all the things, eventually.

And no, it’s not a NaNoWriMo type thing inspiring the writing that I need to do, but I do think that there are times when putting pen to paper (or hands to keys) can be a useful exercise in working things out. It’s much like the technical technique of “confessional debugging” – where you explain the problem to someone else, what debugging steps you’ve tried and more often than not, just in the process of explaining it this way and the person you’re explaining to mostly listening, you can discover the problem on your own. It really works well! So, perhaps my confessional debugging of writing will help all of me and in the process help me find some peace of mind with all the things in my head. At my core, I am happy, but a few important things make me feel stressed and not entirely whole. So I’ll do what I can to bring some of that to the fore and see where I can make improvements. So, let’s hope for more writing from me soon!

Locktober Thirty First

Here we are at the end of Locktober. Madame reminded me this morning and suggested I write about it. Her suggestion fell on my stressed ears, as I was up at 5 am and worrying about work, which is particularly busy given the recent storm that’s decimated our state.

32 days locked in chastity - taken in the locker room.

32 days locked in chastity – taken in the locker room.

I am unsure what she has in mind for release, but she wants to know what’s in my head. I think she will unlock me and fuck me until I cum. Then she will expect a good long hard fucking after that. We both know that my stamina after being locked will be almost nil. But there’s also part of me that thinks she will not let me cum, but just use me for her own pleasure. It will be difficult for her to find her way to an orgasm with me inside her due to the chastity invoked hair trigger. We also have a pending visit from TSPD who may be expecting some joyful fun sexy times, but I don’t know what limits Madame will place on me for the visit.

I will, certainly, be happy to be unlocked. I expect some healing time for the cock, as I know the head is chafed. I think that little spot on the underside of her cock may be chafed a little as well.

I am very pleased with my ability to stay locked as long as I have. It’s been a while since I was locked for a full month. Usually Madame won’t make the sacrifice of being without her cock for that long. And she really HAS made a sacrifice. I can’t even find the beautiful copper cock that has often stood in for my cock in previous times. It hasn’t reappeared since her venture to summer camp.

Overall, I look forward to her touching my cock again, to feeling it pressed against her ass as we spoon each other in bed. Whether I cum or not – well, that’s up to her and I’d like to feel it, but I wonder how much her desire to tease me and make me whimper might color her opinion. She says she’s already made her decision. I think I know what that is and I think I know what will happen in the coming weekend and visit from TSPD. But then, I’d be foolish to count on what _I_ think a woman would decide regarding such things. I do look forward to the release. Absolutely. Whether I get unlocked AND get to cum will be up to her. I want her to enjoy whatever she decides to do.

Cake (a plausible fantasy)

I got back from vacation earlier than expected so I was able to attend a friend’s birthday party. And I was able to help Madame with a chore she was saddled with – buying a birthday cake. Naturally, I went to one of the best bakers in town, where we’ve bought cake before and never been disappointed. It happens to be next to a place that makes the best Sicilian pizza slice in town, so I just curiously ended up there at lunch time!

I picked up a cake for a friend's birthday event.

I picked up a cake for a friend’s birthday event.

Got home, put the cake in the fridge and proceeded to unpack more of the car from the road trip vacation. And then I got a text. Naturally, having MADE a spot for it in the fridge and it being taped and secured and ensconced within the fridge, I didn’t want to take it out, untape it, open, picture, close it, tape it, restack the fridge, all of that. I mean, it’s a frikkin simple chocolate cake where I had them write “Happy Birthday Karen” on it. (Names may be changed to protect the guilty). No number of years, nothing out of the ordinary. It was a delicious chocolate cake from a known damn good bakery. No worries. Why did she need a picture?

But at 5:04 I was summoned to the driveway. *

“The bags in the back, in the kitchen” was what she started with. I opened the back of the car, grabbed the bags and started carrying. I wasn’t getting a “welcome home” kiss from her. “Put them on the counter, then get naked and kneel in the bedroom.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” was my reply. I did as I was told.

She was in the bedroom in short order and grabbed my by the hair. “Tell me what this sentence means. ‘Send me a picture of the cake’ ”

“Ma’am?”

“What does this mean to you? SEND ME A FUCKING PICTURE OF CAKE?!”

I knew she was pissed. Was she really pissed? Or pretend pissed? It didn’t matter. I was really in trouble.

“You wanted a picture of the cake?”

“Yes, a simple request, I thought. And yet I didn’t get a picture of the cake, did I?”

“Ma’am, it was buried in the… ”

“Shut it. Shut the fuck up!

Stand. Hands on the end of the bed, present your ass.” I did as told, presenting myself to her. She walked by me, heading toward my belts. She grabbed the black leather belt and stood to the side of me. Her hand again in my hair, pulling my face to look at her. “It was not a difficult task, but all I got was an excuse. Now you’ll pay for a bullshit excuse. Do not fucking move or it will be much worse.”

She let go of my hair, walked behind me and I heard her swing the belt through the air as she doubled it, wrapped it around her fist and tested her distance. I braced.

She beat my ass relentlessly, all over my ass and thighs, working them hard. A couple times I crumpled down to my knees and she ordered me up to my feet again. The last time I crumpled she reached, grabbed my balls painfully and yanked me up from my knees. The last time I crumpled she put a foot on my back, shoved me all the way to the floor and just stood over my body and whipped my ass with the belt.

She fumed. She was angry. She did not like that I disobeyed, but I didn’t know it was an order like that. I suppose I should treat more of those queries as orders. I gave in, my body gave up, I succumbed and just fell to her whipping. I could not move, would not move, would not whimper, I was simply getting whipped raw by a belt and she continued. I could only tell that her breathing was heavy and she was angry.

Finally, she stopped. I felt the belt land on my back as she dropped it. She went to the corner of our room with a chair and flopped into it. She sat there and watched me. My red ass humped the ground I was laying on. She caught glimpses of my erection underneath my red ass. She rubbed herself. I was roused by hearing her touching herself and moaning. Minutes later, I cleaned her from her arousal and orgasm.

“Wash your face and get dressed. We have a party to go to.”


* This is the point where fact turns into fantasy…

 

 

Some questions, answered

On twitter, “SFD” wrote in a message asking some questions. Here they are (not exactly word for word):

How long have you been currently locked up?

At the time this person wrote, only 8 days.

What is the longest ?

122.

What device are you in?

We own a Steelworxx.de Steelheart 2. It is, like most Steelheart devices, custom sized. It’s also black powder coated, as I have an allergy to metal on my skin.I’ve had the powder coat from the factory redone once – that was an interesting interaction with the powder coat people. I would not recommend this as a first device, but as a second device, once you know what sizes you want/need – it’s a good choice. There are some really beautiful custom devices now, I wish I could afford them.

When she lets you have a release, how does she do it?

Most often, it’s through PIV sex and she grants me release. Sometimes it’s when I’m being toppy (it does happen!) and I’ll release wherever I want to. There are times I am toppy and I don’t cum, but sometimes, she’ll want some of my toppy energy after she has made me cum – it really lets me fuck very hard for a while after that.

Does she give you tie-and-tease sessions?

I am often teased and almost always denied. I am very rarely tied down for these. Sometimes I will ask for permission to beg while she teases me and she says yes, allowing me to beg to cum. She and I both know that I really do not want to, but she loves hearing me beg and telling me “no”.

How often do you pleasure her sexually by non penis means

Daily! I am always rubbing her back, feet or other body parts and almost every night I rub her back while she falls asleep. We also have some evening oral rituals I perform. You might not think these are sexual touches but as she asks for them for her pleasure – well, isn’t all pleasurable touch sexual?

Would you ever go back?

Never. Not a chance.

I’m getting changed

Things have been crowded at our home lately with my kids shoehorning themselves into the household dynamic. Madame is graciously giving us space in the master suite while she takes another bed. Because the alternative of all of us sharing the same space, with two teenage boys, is a little off. Today she informed me with a wink that she was getting changed before she headed to the beach to join some friends for sun and sand. Naturally, I went to join her and help her out of those restrictive clothes.

Finding an opportunity, she grabbed a dresser and stuck out her bottom and I did some cleaning for her, as she had been missing this aspect of our evening rituals. Then we lay down on the bed together, me naked, her partly clothed, me servicing her with her cock and she laying back and enjoying.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the fucking you want… you keep me at the edge so long… ”

“Do you think I don’t know how to get what I want from that cock? Do you think that I’m not getting exactly what I want, boy?” she replied as she lay back and took my cock into her.

We fucked slowly and intensely, my cock swelling thick and hard, he pussy getting wet. I knew the point that I leaked into her, something slightly more than pre-cum seeping into her, she felt it too. We smiled together.

She touched my face, my hair, I licked her hand.

“May I orgasm please?” I asked. She knew it was just an orgasm, not an ejaculation and granted my request. I licked at her hand again, gripped into myself and pushed myself into a beautiful orgasm, just feeling all those good tense points inside as they pulled and pushed. I whimpered, close to cumming, but just orgasming while in her. She smiled at me. I pulled the muscles tighter and let them go again, orgasm still flowing.

We soon fell into a nap together, drifting in and out of slumber and sleep, she drifting in and out of dream cycles. I, relaxing, drifting, feeling us together. As my cock waned and slipped from her, she stirred, but it was just another dream cycle. I held my place while she slumbered. It was a beautiful nap. A beautiful time. I was very much her pet, her partner, her slave, her owned property, all at the same time.

I am so happy with my vacation these past two weeks or so. It’s been a delight. I will write more later. But today was just heavenly.

Quick. Really quick!

This morning, to keep “the streak” going, I pushed her into the bedroom and then pushed her over the bed. It was not very forceful, but I knew that we would have limited opportunity once my kids arrived for a couple weeks, so I needed to strike while the iron was hot.

“You have one minute.”

“To cum?”

Tongue in deeplyShe didn’t answer, but I had her bent over, her shorts and panties down and had already loosened the tie on my slave pants, they slid down to my ankles with no trouble. I quickly knelt behind her and got my tongue into her ass, the quickest way to getting me to hardness.

“15 seconds elapsed, pup…” she said as my tongue lapped at her ass. My hand on my cock had be semi-hard, but not rigid. Her words made me hard enough to enter, once I put spit on my head and on her pussy opening. Standing behind her, I slid in quick and deep. She moaned. “Unfffffff” was her only available response now.

“Did I have one minute to cum?” I repeated my query.

“What do you think?” I knew the answer.

“Please…. please…. ”

She laughed, I fucked. “No, no, that’s not going to happen. And you have 30 seconds left.” I moaned. I stopped fucking. I was already at the edge. She laughed more. “Like I would have let you cum if you could… don’t you know better by now?”

I slid into her again, having regained some of my composure. She groaned again as I filled her.

“Ten.” I fucked deep and full.

“Five” I pulled out.

“Very well, you were about done anyway. I’m done with you.” She stood from her position, pulled up her panties and shorts and left me there, my cock in my hand, pulsing uselessly. I stroked my cock just once and a large drop of cum dripped from the head – she gasped – I never saw it, as I had removed my glasses.

“Clean that fucking carpet and get your fucking uniform on. I’m done with you.” She walked out of the room.

And so ended day 15 of consistent fucking and denial. I’ve been denied for far longer but we’ve fucked every single day for 15 days. This seems to be a streak she intends to keep going.