This Night: Remix

It seems once was not enough for the guys. Sophia agreed to see them again, but now what? 

This Night: Remix

by 

Eythan Rogers

 This Night: Secret Longings part 4

 This Night: Afterglow part 3 

 This Night: Realization part 2

 This Night: Introductions  part 1

Sophia stepped out of the shower; steam billowing around her and covering the small bathroom making it hard to see. When she pulled open the door a rush of cool air came in, covering her arms in goose bumps. Or maybe it was because she was nervous to see the guys again. She wasn’t really sure why she agreed to see them again. Yeah, she had a good time with them, and yes she thought about them a few times a day. But that’s what a fantasy was. Something you thought about and dreamed about. So why was she still thinking about it? It was out of her system and done with. It was just as she had hoped. It was hot and sexy and there was so much passion and lust her mind was over loaded and nearly fried out from so much pleasure.

Sophia had asked Kim why they wanted to see her again, but she was about as much help as a color blind man helping you pick out curtains. She was always a cryptic one.

This time Sophia wasn’t sure what was going to happen between them, so she offered to meet them at Kim’s club and go from there. It as a central location, and public. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but she could never be too cautious. Her past would prove that true.

Without realizing it her hand covered her heart as if she was trying to slow it down. She would not let that asshole ruin the rest of her life god damn it! He had taken way too much from her already and she would be damned it she let herself get worked over a guy who was far far away from her now.

After taking a deep breath and clearing her mind, Sophia dried off and got dressed. Fixing her hair just right and putting on some light make up she was ready to go.

Her apartment was in a decent neighborhood and her neighbors were nice. It was the type of neighbors that would lend you a cup of sugar or a few eggs any time you needed. They were more then willing to help and she was thankful to have them. On more then one occasion Sophia had locked herself out of her apartment and needed to call the landlord. A sweet older man Brian across the hall was more then willing to help. 

Sophia was even more amazed to find out that there was a parking garage for her complex. It was almost unheard of in this area but it was great for rainy days and keeping safe.

Checking her watch one more time Sophia stepped off the elevator and into the parking garage. She was just on time. She hated being late. She was always on time or early. Waiting was a pet peeve of hers, so she always made sure to have enough time to get where she needed to be.

There was a light right under her car and she tried to always get that spot, it was easy to remember and close by the elevators. When she walked around to the driver side door she stopped short. Her breath nearly stopped as well. Her hand quickly covered her mouth and the gasp that escaped her lips.

Stuck to her window was a piece of paper and in bright red marker spelled out “Slut!” Franticly Sophia looked around to see if anyone was around. Not seeing a soul she ripped the sign off her window, shoved it in her purse and jumped in her car. Who the fuck would do that?? Not stopping to analyze it further Sophia threw her car in drive and sped off to the club.

Someone had the wrong car. Why would that be on her car? It must be a mistake. She had no enemies.

Forget it. She had to forget it. It was just a stupid mistake and she was going to see Brandon and Anthony and forget about it. There was no reason to dwell on something so stupid.

Pulling up to the club Sophia noticed it looked pretty dead tonight. Guess Kim was right about all of that outside fun. With a smirk on her face Sophia parked her car and headed into the club.  She admitted to wondering about that as well.

She felt more at ease meeting them inside rather then in a dark parking lot. Its not like they were staying here tonight. She would just wait inside where it was still light and no playing in the lobby. So there was no chance of her running into any erotic play. Not that she has ever seen it before. Hell she remembers helping Kim open the place. Long days and nights spend here, and seeing things she never thought possible. Which could explain her major curiosity on the subject. Or was it all of the books Kim recommended her to read? Whatever the cause, she was very interested and soaked up any literature on the subject of BDSM and D/s relationships.

“Sophia.” She nearly jumped out of her skin when Brandon placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her from her thoughts. She didn’t realize how caught up she was.

“Whoa, easy there. Sorry, I didn’t mean t frighten you. You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t even hear you guys come in. I was just day dreaming I guess. It’s good to see you both again” Sophia smiled. Actually genuinely smiled. She was happy to see them, more then she thought she would be.

Brandon looked like he wanted to hug her but didn’t want to make it awkward. She could see it written on his face. She kind of snickered at his discomfort. She had the feeling that it wasn’t often that these guys felt awkward or out of place. Letting it go she let them both off the hook and asked where they wanted to go. Anthony spoke first.

“Well, we were going to leave the choice up to you, but we thought better of that. Too many choices.” He smirked and tucked his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He slowly took a few steps forward and only a foot separated the to of them. Sophia had to look up to see his face. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she swallowed.

“Sso- what did you two decide?”

Anthony pulled one of his hands from his pocket and tucked a finger under her chin making her look into his eyes. With a wicked grin Anthony said

“We are staying here at the club, Sophia.” 

The Dom's Diary: The Road Home

After reaching the pinnacle, the rollercoaster usually plummets to  the valley careening full steam ahead. What happens after you achieve that goal you've had in your sights? What next?  What now?  
 The next exhilarating twist is bound to leave you breathless!

 

The Dom's Diary:

The Road Home

by

Abyrne Mostyn 

 

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here
Read part 10 here
Read part 11 here

                The roads had still been busy as I made my way home.  The Windy City seldom slept, even on a weeknight.  I had decided to take the surface streets and just enjoy the drive instead of the highway that would have taken half the time.  I‘d had a lot to ponder.  Cla’vis Tand was only the tip of the iceberg that had burgeoned my brain.  Ren’s parting comment about second chances had brought unbidden thoughts of Maggie screaming to mind.  Until now, she had been the only second chance I had ever wanted.

                It had been years since I’d seen her, though her face had held a permanent page marker in my day to day thoughts ever since.  Fresh faced and new to the scene when we’d met, she was energetic and adventurous.  I had done my best to kid-glove her into the scene, but she had wanted none of it.  Instead, she had elected to play hard and party harder.  I had thought she would burn up and out too soon to be one to try to tame.  She wasn’t interested in what I wanted.  She wanted to be like me.

                I was not then, nor now, a teacher.  I could have directed her toward someone who would have taught her how to be a Domme.  She had been polite but stern in her refusal.  She wanted to do it her way.  I could not short cut the lesson she would face.  Her way looked, then, and now in retrospect, to be the hard way and the lessons would not be kind on the journey she had undertaken.  I was saddened, but it wasn’t my call to make.

                Driving the lake shore, the water crypt tower silhouetted against the risen moon, I couldn’t help but think about yesterdays and the last time I’d noticed the monolithic beast that stood watch over the western shore.  We’d been out near the end of the pier, watching the moon rise, just talking.  She was heavy with emotion that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with decisions gone wrong.  I had been surprised to get her call.  She had been surprised that I had come at her request.

                A jazz trio had been playing in the hall, the doors wide open to catch the lake breezes and save the energy costs, the sounds spilling out across the walk and the water.  Leaning against the far wall, the city behind her was painted with pinks and blues of smog over sunset and had haloed her face.  The look she had worn was nothing angelic.  Someone had broken her.  I didn’t know the details and she wasn’t sharing them, but the story was etched deep in the lines that crisscrossed where once upon a time, I’d known a smile.

                I knew the clubs and dungeon she’d been frequenting, and the clientele.  She’d gone deep fast and hadn’t known when to hit the brakes to avoid the collision.  I’d seen it a thousand times.  There was nothing you could do until it was done.  Yellow lights didn’t mean the same thing to those who would guise their true nature in the name “Dom”.    I felt for her, but I couldn’t feel for her at the same time.  I was not responsible after her refusal to be aided, and now it was all over but for the medic duty.

                We had talked long into the night, standing under the Ferris wheel and sitting on the seawall that marked the end of the pier.  I heard her, but I don’t think she heard me.  She wasn’t looking for advice, just a shoulder to cry.  I could do that, and I did.  Before it was done I got one shot to change her path, I opted for allegory.

                “Life is like a game of chess sweetheart, there are pawns and there is royalty.  At the end of the game the last one standing is usually the Queen.  She’s the one who runs the show.  Even the King, though royalty is her pawn.”

                I turned her face to see me as she was staring at her shoes.  Storm ravaged eyes met mine, blinking rapidly to stay the tears she refused to let fall.  I tried to gentle my next comment knowing it would be the last one I’d get to make.  She was already ready to bolt.

                “Don’t settle for being anyone else’s game piece baby, run your own board.”

                The last I saw of her was the flare of her loose over-shirt trailing behind her as she ran back up the pier toward the city.  I had stood there for an hour, hoping she’d run back.  She never did.

                I don’t know how many times I’d driven the loop and gotten back to the beginning on South Wacker before I caught up to the night I was on instead of one so long past.  Then, Maggie had made me stop and question everything I was and wanted.  Now, Cla’vis was doing the same.  The thrill of admission to the Manse was jaded as I realized it was not for the membership that I had been elated, but for access to see her.   I had subs by the dozen who I could call to come and go at my will.  The idea of driving out of my way to see one woman, a woman who had so easily left me at the door, left me unsettled. 

                Melancholy thoughts had led me to park with the valet at the Sheraton towers and walk to the pier.  Bubba Gump’s was packed as usual with the late starting, emerging bar crowd.  The line for the IMAX was slow but boisterous and the smell of theater popcorn mixed with the spray of the lake hitting the seawall.  I had passed them all by and watched the last of the evening lake boat tours pull away from their stall.  I had stopped halfway through the stained glass museum at the 24-hour McDonald's and got a coffee.  Sleep was a luxury for a less addled mind than mine tonight and not worth the hours of clock-watching to attempt.  I could not put the past in its place, nor the future on my radar. 

                I’d watched the sun come up behind the tower across the crisp morning wakes before I was decided.  My coffee, long gone cold had not been necessary.  I am what I am.  Pulling out my phone as I made my way back to land, I had dialed a sub I favored and pulled a tip and the fee for the valet while I made my arrangements.  I had turned for home with just enough time to shower, change, make it to the El station to catch my train and get to work before the opening bell.  The idea of returning to my routine was sour, and I found I didn’t like that.  I didn’t like it one bit.

The Dom's Diary: Jelly Legs

Teetering on the razor's edge;  I don't think  this is what Occam quite had in mind - that fine line between sanity and divine pleasure - but once over the edge, it's a free fall.

The Dom's Diary: Jelly Legs

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here
Read part 10 here

 

It was only with sheer determination that I didn’t blow her head off with the load that sat knotted at the base of my shaft.  She paused after sitting all the way down and the tight glove that held me was nearly enough pressure to finish me.  Where the pearls had been like individual little fingers stroking in unison, this was a completely different sensation.  I wanted to buck and thrust and finish, but her hands on mine at the edge of the table made me try to wait.

She began rocking slowly. ..so slowly.  I nearly wept as I locked my jaw down and willed my release to hold.  Breathing through my nose was not nearly sufficient to get oxygen in, or enough to stay the hard pants that she was cultivating.  It became hard hitching breaths long before she sped up and raced my will as she claimed another orgasm before I let go.  I could not recall ever being dominated by a woman so thoroughly, and I had almost never allowed one to try.

I would love to believe that I had held out longer than I actually managed.  Almost as soon as I felt the trickle of her release coat my balls, I knew I was filling her with my own.  The torment of her earlier play had culminated in a release that left me gasping for air and jerking underneath her long after she stopped pumping.  I saw black and then I saw stars dot across her back as she raised the final time to disengage from me.  I understood why some men passed out to a dead sleep after sex, though I had never done so.  Good fucking was like that.  Take ‘em high, drop ‘em fast, and let them free fall.  What did that say about the sex I’d had up until now?  I didn’t want to think too hard on that.

She had moved off the table and was walking away asking about some Arnica for my stripes as I recovered.  She had loosened my bindings before she walked away and I had to wipe the sheen of perspiration from my face before sitting up.  I could only muster a grunt of affirmation at her offer. 

Shaking my head to knock my brain back online, I got down while she was turned, walking on jelly legs to the table of tools.  I had to chuckle to myself to see the trail of wax flakes that followed her path to the corner where she was again rummaging in her bag.  Her hair was damp to her back.  I was not the only one who had been worked over.

I took a condom from the bowl on the table, knowing you never go back to front without care and slipped it on my still rigid organ as quietly as I could manage.  I grabbed a small crop from the table too before walking over to her.  Fisting one hand in her hair, helping her to her knees with the other, I pushed her head down and to the side before I addressed her.  Her gasp of surprise was cut short by a flick of the crop.

“Danced a little close to that Sadism line, don’t you think?”

She chuckled.

“Close, but did you notice I didn’t cross it?”

“By whose definition darlin’?  Those pearls were quite tight.”

“Do you intend to return my wickedness?”

She was toying with me, and I was mixed minded about it.  She had managed to completely dominate me where others had always failed.  I was however, a Dom by nature, and there was something compulsory about letting her know I would have the last word.  Alternating the crop against her lower cheeks, I knew she was still wet, or wet again.  I could smell her.  The air between us, in what little space there was, was saturated with her.

I dropped the crop when her ass began to faintly glow, grabbing her hip and driving straight with mine.  Her cunt, my cock…no longer space between, I was back where I wanted to be…in control.  The edge of need was long gone after the release earlier as she rode and I now had plenty of time to enjoy the tight friction of her sliding along the ridge.  It was my turn to speed up and slow down in response to her mewling and make her wait. 

Twisting her hair in my hands, I brought her head up off the floor, spanking her open-handed across her ass, forcing her contortion to my will.  She was now the one hitching breath and gasping for air.  She was now the one wearing the goose bumps from dancing the edge that I was hanging her release from.  I knew if I were of a mind to flip her over that the tight bundle of nerves at the cleft of her sex, though untouched at this point, would be an angry, pulsing button that would ignite her release.  I left her on her knees.

Bucking harder once my own release teetered to come forth; she nearly beat me to it, but only ended up a fraction of a breath behind.  Letting go of her hair, I turned her carefully into my lap, shifting to sit once she had stopped quaking in the aftermath and I had pulled free.  Holding her close, we both seemed to take up the cause of aftercare.  She, with the bottle of Arnica she had in her hands when I caught up to her and me flicking the bits of wax from her breasts.  Whoever had clean up duty for this room was likely to be most unhappy with the puddle of wax and herbed oil, not to mention the brushed suede on the tilt.

It was long past full dark when we finally disengaged, dressed, and headed to the lower community room for a nightcap and goodbyes.  Ellis had the drinks on the bar within a second of our crossing into the room and had moved away to the other end of the length of teak.  We barely spoke, but the glances between us shouted.  We were both well satisfied, and would definitely be getting together again.  How much of the future would be sex was anyone’s guess.  I don’t think either of us had any idea.  Domination, hers I would guess, and mine I knew, had never been quite so fully about the actual act of fucking, though there was no denying the extreme pull between us as I could have taken her right there on the bar just thinking about it.

Finishing our drinks, she grabbed her satchel and I her elbow as we walked toward the door.

“Do you intend to direct me here as well Maisu?”

“No Pallaca.  I am a gentleman.  I would see you to your car.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ren has brought it around.”

Looking up, I saw one of the men from the first night that had helped Yessenia from the frame standing near the door with keys in hand.  It seems I was not needed beyond this place, something to think on.

“So I see.  Until next time then darlin’.  I can’t wait to see what else you have in your arsenal.”

“It will be my great pleasure.”

“And also mine.”

With that she had her keys and was out the door and to her car before I reached the steps.  I had to shuffle back before descending and turn as a voice caught me by surprise.  I did not realize Ren had followed us out.

“You must have done something right.  She seldom offers seconds.”

I nodded and turned to leave without another word.  I had much to think about.

Good to know.

The Dom's Diary: Drip, Drip, Drip

Thorne sure seemed to know how to please Cla'vis. After her skill on display with Yessenia, do we think she has what it takes to please him in return? How do you dominate a Dom? Let's find out.

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here 

Drip, Drip, Drip.
by 
Abyrne Mostyn

                She didn’t speak for a long time, but that could have been her recovering.  I put away the wand and unclasped her ankles before removing the blind and freeing her hands, helping her to sit up.  She spoke after she collected herself and regained somewhat normal breathing.

                “Maisu is an old word.  Like Pallaca means mistress, Maisu means master.”

                I nodded as I took in the meaning of the word she had shouted.  Not the usual ‘Sir’ I heard from my subs, but in some ways a better and more fitting word.  I had to wonder if Maxim had also mastered her or if the term was used from respect by all here.  Naobi had addressed him as Maisu, but had not seemed bothered when Cla’vis also did that first night.  I would be thinking on this another time as her movements caught my attention.  She had gotten off the table before I noticed to help her down. 

In the far corner of the room she was rifling through a bag.  Walking up behind her, I couldn’t see what she was doing, but her ass was calling me.  Reaching out to knead the round globes, she leaned back for a moment before addressing me.

      “You like my ass.”

      “Tell me something you don’t already know.”

      “Let me get a placeholder for you then.”

      I didn’t process the reference until she turned, wicked gleam in her eye, and showed me a jeweled plug.  Stepping back, while I watched, she ran it through and between the still shiny, wet lips of her cunt before turning, bending over and inserting it tight to her backdoor, wiggling a spot in front of me to set it before she stood upright again.  I nearly blew right then, so fucking hot.

     “Am I to understand you want to be fucked there?  Is that the ‘place’ you’re holding for me?”

     “My dear Thorne...”

     “Not Maisu now?”

     Her grin was fireworks bright.

     “Que vous le souhaitez.  My dear Maisu, I believe it is my turn now.  I’ll not tip my hand any more than you tipped yours.”

     Leading me by the hand, we returned to the tilt table.  I watched as she reset the lower end, brought up an extended end to the top and tilted it to stand nearly vertical.  Following her gestures, I was backed up to the table, my arms secured to the sides, ankles to the lower corners and a garrote set about my neck.

     “Anything off limits I should be aware of?”

     She was not mocking, but it was amusing to hear her using my same words.

     “How about we follow the same guidelines you set?”

     I had little compulsion about giving away control or power to her.  I had seen her wield a whip and knew what she could do.  So I thought.  It was the work of a moment before she had tightened the garrote to a shade past snug and gotten her split-9 from where she had laid it down when we entered.

     “Not my cock.”

     “Agreed.  Hard or soft?”

      I couldn’t help but return her words to her.  They were, after all, appropriate.

    “You’ll know when you figure it out won’t you?”

     “Cheeky.”

     Without another word she pulled back and let the eighteen tails fly across my thighs.  The lashes bit and the softer tails seemed to kiss as they fell together, a heady combination.  I had seldom been whipped by another since learning how to throw, and even those times were far, far between.  I enjoyed the release and liberation of the long tail flogging when done by someone who knew how to control the lashes.  She was adept.  Controlling eighteen tails simultaneously, she threw as though it were a single.  I was completely turned on to watch her throw and could feel my cock straining to be worked.  The lashing would take longer than I wanted to wait, but I was not in control, so I leaned back and let her throw. 

     Seeing her with Yessenia from behind had been amazing to watch.  Seeing her, full frontal, throwing at me was nearly enough to have me releasing without her touching me at all.  Mustering every thought I could to reduce the urgent need, I could feel the drip, drip, drip of perspiration falling from my face after beading up from the effort.  Closing my eyes, I split my focus to feel and to stop feeling at the same time.  If she had plans for more, I was going to be fully present for all of them.

     “Hold the sides.”

     I opened my eyes at her words.  She was standing next to the table and I heard the hiss of the hydraulic as the head was lowered, the feet were raised, and I was laid flat.  She loosened the garrote but not my wrists, though I didn’t need to hold on anymore now that the change was done.  I didn’t know how much time had passed, but judging by the red stripes that remained, she’d thrown a good while.  It was a pleasure pain, and I welcomed it, groaning appreciatively at the evidence of her skill.  She had gone above, below, and completely around my cock without a stray stripe.

     The next that I saw her, she had climbed up the foot of the table and was kneeling between my knees, a long string of pearls dangling from her hand.  I had seen her in a pearl thong the first night.  Beautiful.  I wondered if she was going to wear or insert this strand to tease me, and I said so.

     “Putting on your best pearls for me Pallaca?”

     She laughed.

     “No Maisu, you’re going to wear them for me.”

     I must have shown my shock at her words.  Her face was the morning sun on the windshield and mischievous as I’d ever seen it.  With much ado, pomp and circumstance, I watched her drop the bottom loop under my scrotum and begin crisscrossing it up my cock, coiling it over and onto itself to the tip, and back down to where it began.  With a Cheshire grin, she leaned down and began a slow suction of the head.  It was bliss.  It was agony.  I wanted more.

     She lingered for a long while, letting pre-cum and saliva roll down the beads to the base.  When she seemed to be satisfied, she opened her mouth and dropped wholly over it, closing her lips with a lick at the bottom.  I think my eyes rolled back into my head.  The sensations of suction and the wet rolling of the individual pearls along with her tongue was hedonism. 

     She laved her tongue against the wet beads and swallowed.  The pressure of the action was tight misery and euphoria all together.  I know I moaned.  I couldn’t help it.  Swallowing again, she paused before beginning a long slow stroking with her mouth up and down the pearls, keeping a choke hold on the base and my balls.  I was going to go nuclear when she set them free, I could feel them tightening up already though I didn’t think they could wind up any harder.

     It was all I could do not to thrust.  I had started to, but as soon as I did, she stopped.  Lying still was agonizing.  I wanted to cum.  I wanted to fuck her mouth encased in the pearls just the way she had it.  She was a master.  I could only try to hold still and pant, completely at her mercy.  She sped up and she slowed down, all in reaction to me.  She played me like a Stratavarius, and I would have sang too if she had asked. 

The last time she sped up, I thought she was going to let me cum.  She wasn’t.  She took me straight to the edge and danced me there in the wind until the precipice began to slip away, the growl building in my gut.  Then, she stopped.   Opening wide, she dropped the whole of my shaft, still standing tall, out into the cool air of the room.  It was nearly painful to be out of her warm, wet mouth.  Taking up the tail end of the strand from the base, twisting it over itself in her fingers, I could only watch as she tightened the strand and shut down my ability to satisfy the lingering, urgent need to release. 

     Shifting her weight from one knee to the other as she moved up to straddle my hips, I again could only watch as she twisted the strand and tightened it down further just before she lanced herself through with one slick stroke and buried my cock balls deep.  When seated fully she rocked a slow, languorous rhythm back and forth, up and down.  I watched the tears of perspiration dot her flesh, then commune to trail and sluice the valley of her breasts before falling off.  I felt the sting of the salt in the still raw stripes from her lashes.  Her mouth hung open and her pants seemed to echo a second behind my own, mine on the down stroke, hers on the up. 

     It was a brutal tease.  Each time I got to the edge and ready to cum, she tightened the strand and hovered at the top of the stroke staying the release at the base of my shaft by keeping a vise grip to my balls with the long strand, leaving no doubt, she was controlling the ride.  I lost track of how many times I'd surrendered my release to her ministrations.  She was a wicked task master.  Twisting twice on the strand, I watched in near agony as she bucked and came wildly, my own release shut down.  I felt the knot start north and stop abruptly at the ring of pearls she held fisted while she rode, my whole body tied up in those little ominous beads.

     I had begun to believe I wasn't going to get to cum at all.  Just about then, with slow deliberation she raised a final time, unwinding the pearls, lifting them away as she stood and dismounted slowly, taking care to remove the lowest loop before she set them aside.  Each roll unwinding was an agony, but I was determined not to cum until I was once again inside her.  It was a battle of wills I had to win.

     Her smile was conspiratorial as she stepped back a step to straddle closer to my hips, and turned around.  With purposeful movements, she bent slightly giving me full view of the saturated, swollen center of her.  She reached back and slid the jeweled plug free, bending all the way over to set it on the table between my feet.  I watched in wanting torment as she slid two fingers between her lips, dipped into her weeping core, and pulled them free with the remnants of her release. I watched her reach back and slowly lube the vacancy left by the plug with what was on her fingers.  In and out she worked the cream and as she worked   I watched more cream wet and trickle between her legs.

     I was ready to beg.  I wanted to pull her down and have her ride my face.  She had other plans.  As I watched, she sank to her knees, then reached back and grabbed my cock.  She leaned back just enough to seat the crown at her now wet and ready anus before torturing me slowly…sitting down completely in agonizing slow motion, reverse cow-girling me with her ass.  I heard my growling moan as it echoed back.

     “Fuuuuck.”

     She tipped her head back just enough to make eye contact, her hair pooling across my chest.  I didn’t need to see her entire face to know she wore a wicked smile.  Her eyes said everything.

     “Yes Maisu.  I plan to.”