A Moaning Mess of a Girl, Guest Post by Kiki DeLovely

I wake with a start, reaching for my phone. 5:35am. Shit, which way is it again? Could be either 2:35 or 8:35 where you’re at. This should be quick and easy math in my head but I keep going back and forth between adding the threes for you and subtracting them for me. Both of these options seem like impossible times in my hazy, dream-laden mind. Subtract the three. Yes, it’s definitely subtraction on my end. But it doesn’t matter. Both of these preposterous times mean that you’re probably asleep…and I unquestionably ought to be as well. I roll over and barely have a minute of self-indulgent pouting before I realize something is vibrating in my hand.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

I blush, curling into a tiny ball, beaming into the phone. Your voice is cracked, raspy with slumber heavy on your tongue, honey to my ears. My lugubrious lips quickly arc upwards, forming the sweetest smile.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Do something for me.” You politely await my reply even though this favorite line of yours has long since ceased being a question. Really, more of a call and response because my answer is always the same:

“Anything.”

“Roll over. Touch yourself for me. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

I can tell from the tone in your voice how hard you are already. The desire drips from each slow syllable. And these few simple words have an immediate, palpable effect on my body. My clit began to throb before you completed that first sentence. My pussy quivers, glistening so soon. I can barely form words when you talk to me like that. You know how to make me so fucking shy. Delighting in it. Add to that my mounting orgasm and I’m a non-verbal, moaning mess of a girl. Lucky for me, you’re perfectly content to hear nothing but those inarticulate melodies as I come for you, writhing in between my crimson sheets. And then again.

My butch Daddy, your unique flavor of female masculinity and dominance was set to high heat the moment you laid eyes on me, stirred to a quick boil that first night we spent in your precariously lofted bed, bubbling up and spilling all over my body every day since. I feel blessed to witness you coming into your own so thoroughly, to get to experience it firsthand. Mmmm…your hands. How I long for them. So rough and strong, you never knew to have pride in them until I purred under your touch as you stroked them down my exposed back, cupping my ass. I cooed my craving into the curve of your neck, letting you know just how much the ascendancy of those hands turn me on. My femme instinct smelled the butch all over you long before you ever used the word to describe yourself. I sensed it burning inside of you, eagerly awaiting a femme like me to show you just how desirable female masculinity can be. To express how it’s one of the many parts of you I honor and cherish. To prove to you that I just can’t get enough. And even with all the distance between us now, we don’t let that get in our way. We simply search out other methods to stay connected.

Email, Facetime, mobile-to-mobile, texting (sexting), voicemail. Damn, you’ve got me going against everything I believe in. I detest technology. In all of its many, varied forms. Yet here I find myself. Sleeping with my phone turned on in case you call, sending endless fantasies on the tiniest keyboard until my thumbs cramp up, last night you even put me to bed over the computer. I normally resist sleeping in the same room with anything electronic, let alone something connected to wifi. But I’ll admit that the sound of your voice singing me to sleep and that of your shallow breathing when I awoke in the middle of the night was so sweetly comforting. And such a turn on. Instead of waking you though I let you sleep.

This time. Next time you’re going to be roused with quite the little show. I decide to pour all my mid-night lust into mid-day distractions that’ll make your hours at work fly by faster.

2:57pm. Subtract the three. Noon is just as good a time as any to get this started. Text is my weapon of choice today.

I lick my lips. Slowly. You groan, fighting hard against your instinctual impulses. My mouth is watering, Daddy. May I please give you a little kiss?

The minutes crawl by too slowly as I impatiently check my phone for the hundredth time. I want to keep going but I can’t. Not without your express permission. So I squirm around in my bed, jilling off lazily, feeling more and more desperate for your response. Proud of myself for only sending one frantic pleading message in the meantime as I wait out each of those torturous, interminable forty-seven minutes before you reply.

Lick your lips again and kiss Daddy.

I nearly come when you send me such lascivious demands. But I can’t be distracted now. My aim is to distract you.

 I bend forward and gradually lower my mouth. My pretty little mouth that you so love inching closer and closer to your hard-on, the tip of my tongue gliding across my upper lip. Looking up at you with big brown eyes, I pucker my lips and kiss the head of your cock. An electric volt of desire starts there, shooting straight through you, making your whole body jump.

The current running through your body is so intense that you don’t even notice until it’s too late that I’ve gone and gotten greedy, wrapping my hand around the base of your cock and going in for another kiss. Sans permission. Bad girl. It’s not until your feel the warmth of my lips opening a little wider this time that you realize. You feel the pressure of my tongue ease across the tip of your cock. Very bad girl. So you grab me by the back of my hair with such force that I cry out.

You drag me up and throw me down on the bed. Your patience was bound to break and I pushed you over the edge sooner than you’d have liked. So now I’m gonna get it. Fear and desire shine in my eyes, a lustful tempest in yours, as you shove my legs apart. You hear the lace of my panties ripping as you tear them to the side, not giving a fuck what you tear. You drive your cock into me, taking me rougher than ever before. Taking it all in one single thrust. Taking what’s yours.

I look down at my phone, grinning and gratified at having ruined you for the rest of your day.

*       *       *

I can feel my phone trill in my pocket but I’m in the middle of a story, surrounded by my family. Receiving anything from you while I’m around them makes me nervous. So I wait until an opportune moment presents itself to make my way to the bathroom. Closing the door while fumbling with the touch screen, I see the little red circle above “Mail” has increased in number many times over. Most of them are photos – which I love, don’t get me wrong, my eyes drinking in every pixel of you, the beauty you’ve encountered in your journeyings – but it’s your words that do me in:

I look into your eyes, your wanting eyes, and return the gaze with mine. Bending you over slowly, you grip your ankles for support as I take my cock in hand and place it between your legs. But I don’t go inside you, I don’t touch anything, actually. I hold it there beneath your pussy and wait, like waiting for raindrops. Opening your pussy with my right hand, I exhale with satisfaction. It is as I hoped. You are wet enough for this. Your wet is all over my cock now, dripping onto it as I hold it at your hole. It’s running up to your clit, it wants to make its way to your inner thighs. This. This is what I wanted. I pull away from you and run my hand all over your juices. All over me. I can feel it all over me.

These words go straight to my cunt and now I’m unbuttoning my jeans one-handedly, struggling to get to my clit fast enough. Fuck, I’m so fucking wet. Just like in your fantasy. Rereading it two and a half more times before I’m coming hard and fast, I wash my hands and rejoin my sisters, hoping they won’t smell how much I need you.

God, my jaw is aching. You make me too happy. The muscles in my cheeks are out of practice. It seems like my head is constantly thrown back these days – either in a fit of laughter or of passion. I suppose the jaw-ache could also be all the blow jobs I’ve been giving you. Still I can’t stop myself. I glance at the hands on the wall. Quarter to four. You’re off at 3:00pm today. Add the three. That gives me plenty of time to get myself going and leave you a voicemail.    

Before dialing yours, I call mine and search out my very favorite message. I want to be so close when I call so that nerves don’t take over and I’m actually able to orgasm. I know you’ll hear the difference if I don’t. Hitting the four, I replay your words once more. “That’s my good girl. Oh, I’m so close. Fuck. You get me so hard. I’m gonna take my cock out and come all over your pussy. Ohhh, I’m coming for you. Fuck. So fucking hard. All over you. Reach down and put that cum in your pussy now. Do it for me. Do it for me, babygirl. Shove it in with your fingers. Now rub it up all over your clit. You like that? I want my cum all over you.”

Despite being quite the filthy girl, I had never imagined myself getting off to such a thought. And you never dared dream a dyke would find your secret fantasies so arousing. Yet here we are. Reveling in every last drop. And you know my screams are genuine when you skip out of work early to take a listen. Leaving you throbbing the rest of the day.

I wake with a moan, clutching at the covers. You know I’m yours, all of me, so you’re allowed to take whatever you want, whenever you want it. And so you do. 4:44am. Subtract the three. You must be just getting home from your gig. Horny. We both sleep weird and few hours. Fewer and fewer since we first met. The unpredictable hours kept by a musician and a writer. Between band practice, random deadlines, my insomnia on top of yours, we’re lucky if either of us gets more than a few hours’ sleep at any given time. Still you can’t help yourself. Or rather, you do. You help yourself quite generously. There may be 2,818 miles between us, but I still know when you’re jacking off to me. You take me in my dreams, I awake with the sheets soaking wet.

I wake with a start, reaching for my laptop. 5:51am. I don’t bother with the math – it’s not you I need to write this time, it’s a story that needs to surface. Fuck, it’s been too long since I woke with a story itching at my fingertips. And this one is all you. You and me. Us. I’ve been waiting for you for so long. I need to give it a voice. One of my favorite love stories of all time. One that’s so brimming with lust it pours out all around us. Unlike so many of my fantasy-filled favorites that exist only between the covers, this one is real. So painfully and beautifully real. Plagued with writer’s block for frustratingly drawn-out months, you came along and broke the spell.

Thank you, my muse, my butch, my Daddy. I whisper a blessing of gratitude to whomever is listening. Hoping you hear me as well. Knowing you’re feeling me. Because I’m feeling you.

Are You Game? Guest Post by Dilo Keith

Moments before my boss arrived on Friday, I sent her a message about an especially troublesome client. It was no longer awkward thinking of Lisa as “boss,” though it had seemed damn weird at first. I had almost asked for a transfer when they assigned me to her team three years ago, but it turned out we functioned better as co-workers than romantic partners. Now we were getting along so well that we had talked about having sex again, or at least exchanging massages. Such intimacies, however, required the permission of her wife-to-be Morgan, otherwise known as “Master M.”

My relationship with Morgan had vastly improved since the day we met. I could recall little about our first encounter other than my embarrassment at calling her “Sir” and the fact that she bore an uncanny resemblance to my senior year math professor, Mr. Foxman. I’d swear she wore the same hat. After they returned from lunch that day, Lisa told me Morgan actually enjoyed being called “Sir”, but didn’t elaborate until weeks later.

Lisa was late and wearing a familiar expression that told me her tardiness had nothing to do with snarled traffic. Damp locks on her forehead suggested she’d been up to something that had required a quick rinse afterwards. I shook my head to clear memories of sweaty morning sex with her curly, mocha brown hair tickling my breasts.

“I hate to wipe that smile off your face,” I said, “but Mr. Harrison left three voice messages.”

“Fuck. I wish he wasn’t a priority.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, enabling Lisa to finish the Harrison project and leave on time. I stayed late to make up for a long lunch break, but was almost out the door when Harrison called with “critical” changes. I hastily assured him we could make them over the weekend, only to realize as I hung up that this meant I had to find Lisa.

She didn’t answer my calls or texts, so I emailed what I could and stuffed the relevant hardcopies into an envelope. Considering her house was on my way home, dropping them off would be quicker than scanning and emailing everything. Two cars were in front of the house she now shared with Morgan, but the doorbell went unanswered. After trying the land line and cell again, I decided this qualified as the sort of emergency in which Lisa wouldn’t mind my using the spare key, something I’d done before. Neither woman answered when I called Lisa’s name from the front hall, and there was no sign of anyone on the first floor. Weighing the urgency of the Harrison project against Lisa and Morgan’s privacy, I cautiously headed upstairs. I assumed they’d be in the bedroom and the most obvious place to leave the folder would be right outside their room.

The bedroom door was closed, fortunately, and I was startled to hear the unmistakable cracks of something solid striking naked flesh, a paddle or maybe a hand. The sound didn’t surprise me intellectually – Lisa’s more intense interest in BDSM was one reason for our incompatibility – but I hadn’t expected to actually hear it right then. Sharper sounds, probably from a whip or crop, followed. I scrawled a note on the envelope and bent down for a discreet delivery that had almost succeeded when my phone slid out of my pocket and thumped against the door.

“Anna – that you already?” Morgan called out, referring to a weekend guest I knew they were expecting.

Shit. “It’s Kylie. Sorry to bother you, but something came up at the office. I was leaving some files.”

“Sounds important. Hold on.” After several seconds, Morgan said, “Come in.”

Knowing Lisa’s proclivities didn’t prepare me for the sight of my beautiful, olive-skinned ex kneeling naked at Morgan’s feet, her wrists in leather cuffs clipped together behind her back. Two stripes across Lisa’s reddened ass confirmed my suspicions regarding what I’d heard. Morgan was fully dressed, the severe uniformity of her black clothes broken only by a splash of color from the bright purple cock sheathed in Lisa’s mouth. I’d frequently imagined myself with Morgan in relatively vanilla versions of this sizzling scene.

Lisa tried to pull back, but Morgan twisted her hand in her dark curls and pulled Lisa more firmly onto her cock. “Lisa’s having trouble speaking at the moment. Go on.”

“I… uh… I mean…” I felt my face warming. “I’m really sorry. It’s Harrison again. I stupidly promised we’d make more revisions this weekend.”

“You were right to come. Do you need Lisa now? Can she call later?”

“Later’s fine. Sorry about this.” I turned to leave.

“Wait,” Morgan said. “I could use a second sub tonight. Interested?”

“Me? A sub?” What had Lisa told her? In our mismatched attempts at kink, I had topped. Even so, something about Morgan’s confidence made obeying her seem perfectly natural. It didn’t hurt that she was solidly built, with muscled arms that I could imagine pulling me into an inescapable embrace, or that she was almost twice my age. Her cropped hair walked a fine line between butch and femme, and her square jaw added an extra hint of toughness.

“I think you’ll do fine.”

No matter how hot she was, I had no interest in getting beaten. “Thanks… no… um, I mean, you know I don’t really do that sort of thing.”

“You don’t even know what ‘sort of thing’ I’d require.”

“I have the general idea.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

She might be right, but, fuck, Lisa’s my boss now, and this looks damn private. “Won’t Lisa mind?”

She stroked Lisa’s cheek. “I won’t include Kylie without your consent.”

Lisa nodded – as best she could with a mouthful of dick – and pressed her face into Morgan’s hand.

“Are you sure?”

Lisa glanced at me.

“Is it awkward, considering Kylie works for you?”

Lisa shrugged and nodded. That probably meant “a little”.

“Kylie?” Morgan prompted.

“Nothing will change at the office, boss,” I assured Lisa quickly. “If I join you, that is.”

Lisa nodded again and Morgan caressed her head approvingly. That seemed like my cue.

“Okay, I guess I’m game. I get a safe word or something, don’t I?”

Morgan chuckled. “Sure, but I doubt you’ll need it.”

“How does this work?”

“Follow instructions and be respectful. I won’t hurt you. You may not do anything to Lisa without my permission. She’s not allowed to speak at all. Try not to talk unless I ask you a question or give you an order that requires feedback. If necessary, say something like ‘Please, may I speak?’ You don’t need a safe word – if you’re uncomfortable, say so. Call me ‘Master M’ or ‘Sir’. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then strip. Any delays or interruptions will result in punishment for Lisa, regardless of who’s at fault. Lisa, don’t forget you’re to remain completely silent unless I say otherwise.”

As I hastily peeled off my clothes, Morgan led Lisa to the bed and patted the mattress. “Kneel up here.”

That left Lisa facing away from us, below a pair of chains hanging above the bed. Morgan unclipped Lisa’s cuffs and pointed at one dangling chain. “Hand me the end.”

Morgan attached the snap hook on the chain to Lisa’s cuff while I did the same on the other side. “Bring me that blindfold,” she said, pointing to where it was laid out with other toys on the dresser.

“Stroke her gently, anywhere you like except her cunt.” Morgan blindfolded Lisa and double-checked her restraints while I fondled her lovely breasts and smoothed my hands across her toned torso. She pressed her body into my hands appreciatively, and I forced myself to veer away from the forbidden zone. The treasures of her back side weren’t explicitly prohibited, but I limited myself to palming the delectable curves of ass.

During my lustful explorations, Morgan had stripped down to underwear, a black compression tank and silk boxers. She quickly closed the distance to the bed and shoved the side of her hand between her lover’s legs. Lisa made a visible effort to suppress a moan as she ground onto Morgan’s hand.

“I could forbid you to move,” Morgan said with a wicked smile. Lisa froze. “But not now; I’m not that sadistic. Not with company, anyway.” Morgan allowed Lisa a few more thrusts before withdrawing her hand.

Morgan stood and pressed her body against Lisa’s back. Her lover’s sharp intake of breath was loud enough that I wondered if it would count as a noise, but Morgan let her off with the warning, “Careful, love.” She kissed the back of Lisa’s neck and reached around to pinch her nipples. Lisa leaned into Morgan’s hands and parted her lips in a silent moan when Morgan squeezed harder.

“Kylie, bring me the short flogger.”

I touched the nearest implement and glanced wordlessly at Morgan, who was still playing with Lisa’s breasts.

“No, two over. Yes, that one. Bring the one to the right of it, too, but leave it on the bed.”

The first item was a soft, medium-sized flogger that I imagined Lisa would enjoy, unlike the one I’d put aside. Lisa had tried explaining that submission sometimes meant doing unpleasant and painful things. I had no problem with the light play we’d been doing, but it suddenly occurred to me that Morgan might make Lisa suffer for real at some point, something I didn’t care to see.

Morgan gradually reddened Lisa’s skin from the base of her neck to her knees, soft and hard strokes following one another with no obvious pattern. Lisa met the leather with her body, tensing and relaxing in an erotic rhythm that left little in the room but the beauty of two women in perfect harmony. Shockingly, Morgan turned to me and said, “Here, you try.” She handed me the flogger. “Nice and gentle to start.”

I held it, not moving.

“Go on. I know you’ve done this before. Lisa thought you had potential.”

“Really? I thought she was just –”

“Quiet,” Morgan ordered.

So I wasn’t supposed to answer that? Subbing is harder than it looks. I landed light strokes on Lisa’s ass until I felt comfortable enough to strike more forcefully.

“Very good. Harder now,” Morgan said.

Lisa seemed to welcome every blow, and Morgan eyed me approvingly before climbing onto the bed. She played with Lisa’s nipples and caressed her breasts as I plied the flogger. When Lisa seemed lulled by the sensations, Morgan slid her hand between the wet lips of her cunt. Lisa swallowed her low moan quickly, but not entirely.

“Earning a punishment so soon, slut?” Morgan wiped her fingers on Lisa’s hip.

Punishment?! Oh, right, for noise.

Morgan continued, “Since you weren’t expecting the distraction of company tonight, you get a little break. You’ll receive all six, but you don’t have to be silent.” She motioned for me to fetch the short whip – or whatever the harsh-looking single-tailed thing was called. Morgan must have noticed my unease because she said firmly, “Lisa knew this could happen. Stand back.”

Thwack.

Lisa yelped, and a long, red stripe appeared. I winced, but didn’t look away.

Morgan delivered another hard lash to Lisa’s ass and two to her back, evoking stoic grunts each time. Next was an even harder lash to the base of one ass cheek, the sensitive spot just at the top of the thigh, and another on the opposite side.

“You did well. Try not to misbehave again.”

Morgan directed me back to the bed and laid a gentle hand on my neck. “You’re doing well too, and you’ve earned a little treat. Face down.” She stroked my back and ass, traced the ridge of my pelvis, and continued across my groin, lingering close to where I most wanted her. Did she say “treat” or “tease”? Begging for relief for my throbbing cunt was probably unacceptable, and I didn’t want to do anything that would cause Morgan to stop. As I was about to try a suggestive whimper, she snaked a finger into my bush and stroked my clit. Despite my most encouraging moans, it was over far too soon. I could hear the amusement in the blonde sadist’s voice when she said, “Get up,” and held out her other hand for the softer flogger.

She struck Lisa harder this time, and after several lashes, positioned me in front of Lisa. “Keep her from moving around too much. Suck her nipples and use your hands anywhere you like.”

Lisa stiffened delightfully in my mouth as the blows of Morgan’s flogger forced her breasts into my face. I explored her body, glad I didn’t have to avoid the treasures between her legs but not quite daring to delve inside. Instead, I slid my fingers across her swollen clit and around her slick folds, holding her by one hip. Lisa trembled, but managed to remain silent. When Morgan stopped the flogging, I shifted closer to get a solid handful of Lisa’s now-unobstructed ass. She moaned, and we both froze.

Morgan, her hands full of condoms, gloves, and a bottle of lube, exclaimed, “Kylie! What did you do to her?”

“I’m sorry, I leaned in to fondle her ass. Maybe it was my, um, tits?” Lisa had always loved their feel, and she was highly sensitized at present.

“I told you to use your hands, not your boobs. It was a simple instruction.” She glared at me sternly.

“It was an accident, Sir. Please don’t hurt her.”

“The rules don’t change when something unexpected happens.”

I asked, “May I say something else?”

“You may.”

“I volunteer to take her punishment, Sir.”

“Lisa’s willing to go by the rules.”

“I don’t like being responsible.”

“You’re not. Plus, I’m in charge, remember?”

“But Lisa –”

“Quiet. Lisa, tell her. Briefly.”

“I’m fine with the rules, and it’s more… um… interesting with you here.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Morgan said, “Since you’re feeling responsible, I’ll reduce the sentence. A second offense normally gets double the first, but I’ll deduct three. Stand over there. Lisa, no noise.”

Lisa managed, impressively, to remain quiet for the first several strokes. When one landed on Lisa’s inner thigh, a barely audible “fuck” escaped her lips. Oops. Morgan shoved the whip into my hands and sprang onto the bed.

“No swearing.” She slapped Lisa’s face.

“I’m –” Lisa started.

“And you haven’t been given permission to speak!” Morgan slapped the other cheek, harder this time. “For that, you’ll get the remaining lashes from the original twelve – five more. Be grateful you don’t get another punishment for talking.”

I stood in place, wide-eyed. Despite her clear preference for stricter command than I had ever offered her, Lisa’s earlier assurance of consent wasn’t very comforting. Morgan got off the bed and approached me determinedly. I slowly handed her the whip, this time looking away as the strokes bit into Lisa’s tender thighs.

“Help her down onto the bed.”

Morgan rubbed Lisa’s neck soothingly. “If you endure what’s coming next in silence, I’ll allow you to make noise for the rest. I know having Kylie here makes it more difficult.” She removed the blindfold and ran a finger over Lisa’s lip dented from her efforts at silence. “And don’t hurt yourself. That’s my job.”

“Kylie, on your back in the middle of the bed. Knees up, and spread ’em.” I scrambled into position.

“Lisa, put that talented mouth to work. No hands.”

Lisa crawled between my legs and, without preamble, lapped a broad stroke across my cunt before flicking my clit with her tongue.

“Omigod!” It had been far too long since Lisa – or anyone – had done that. Toys are terrific, but there’s nothing like the wet heat of a woman’s mouth. Her tongue danced around my cunt, not always on my clit, which was good since I didn’t know if I was allowed to come. Should I ask? I also didn’t know if I could touch her, so I clutched the blanket and concentrated on staying in position, not wanting to dislodge Lisa’s sublime tongue. Through the haze of arousal, it occurred to me there was a pattern – she was tracing letters on my pussy. My name, twice, then… I tried hard to follow…“I miss you.” I almost laughed aloud.

“Lisa, stop that for a moment. Kylie, stay put.”

Damn — did she see my face and detect Lisa’s covert naughtiness? I hope it’s just a moment. But it wasn’t. She spanked Lisa for what seemed like a full minute before telling her, “Get back to it.” My guess was that Morgan had warmed Lisa’s ass just because she could.

Far too soon, Morgan ordered Lisa to stop for good, leaving me panting in combined arousal and frustration. She tossed a glove and the lube in my direction. I ignored them and watched Morgan fingering Lisa’s lubed ass, which had Lisa shoving her face into the mattress to keep quiet.

“Very good,” Morgan said when three fingers slid in effortlessly. “You may speak from now on.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Morgan discarded her gloves and gave Lisa a passionate kiss. “Kylie, too,” Morgan said, and Lisa kissed me almost as thoroughly before returning to her place on the bed.

“Kylie, would you like to fuck this gorgeous ass?”

It was tempting, but I said, “Honestly, Sir, I’d rather watch you take her.”

Morgan chuckled and shook her head. From the bedside drawer, she extracted a small butt plug that she had me cover with a condom before she stuffed it into Lisa. “That’ll hold you, girl. Now, on your back like Kylie was.”

Morgan explained, “She’s not allowed to come yet, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to make her. Anything you want.”

I lost myself in Lisa’s familiar, delightful taste and smell, barely reacting when Morgan plunged her fingers into me and rubbed circles around my clit with her thumb.

“Is something wrong?” Morgan asked as she slid her hand out.

What? Why? Put it back! “No, just concentrating,” I managed.

“Well, concentrate on this.” She shoved her cock in, driving my face into Lisa, and went after my clit again. “Kylie, you may come anytime.”

I did, sooner than I’d hoped, clenching around Morgan’s cock and gasping for air as I tried not to suffocate myself in Lisa’s cunt. Morgan guided me down next to Lisa, who whimpered with need.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve been a lot of fun, but I’ve detained you long enough.”

Dismissed already? “I have nowhere else to be. Please, Sir?”

After a nod of permission from Morgan, Lisa said, “We need to finish here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Sure thing, boss. I guess I’ll see you Monday. Let me know if I can help with Harrison.”

Morgan pressed a finger to Lisa’s lips. “She will, and she’ll definitely call you about a play date.”

Although the sentiment seemed inadequate for the trust and intimacy we’d shared, I said only, “Thanks .. for everything.”

_________________________

Author’s note: Thanks to Meghan for permission to use portions of her lovely whipping scene from Mon Corbeau.