“Yes, ma’am…” Meg reluctantly replies and a huge grin breaks out across Stella’s face.“Ma’am? I prefer Mistress, but ma’am works to,” Stella coos before she leans down and licks the nipple she just abused. Meg bends so her breasts brush Stella’s face. Stella concedes, and sucks her nipple into her mouth as she kneads the other one with her soaked hands. Meg can smell her juices on Stella’s hand, and she should be ashamed or embarrassed, but she’s not.“Please, mistress,” Meg pleads, her mind. He moved in and out of me with long, slow strokes for a full minute, then effortlessly lifted my hips up off the bed and rocked back into a kneeling position. From there, he could reach down and rub around my clit, and I was right at the edge of orgasm again immediately. Instead of settling for this, though, I decided he wasn’t deep enough in this new position, so I sat up with him and wrapped my legs around him, burying him farther up inside of me than I ever thought was possible. I was losing. I stood quietly for a few moments. I had just arrived and already I have made two contacts for possible sex, and as I stood there, I touched my breasts feeling just how firm they felt and how hard my nipples were, not to mention between my legs, where my wetness was so obvious. I took a deep breath and felt myself in the process, my vagina was readied for intercourse, my labia were swollen and lubricated, ‘Should I wipe myself dry at my entrance, or stay wet and sit open-legged and let the old. I was thirty, and this was already more exposure to a woman than I’d had in a year. I’d been planning to bake a pizza and drink myself unconscious -- not because I liked alcohol, but because I might not sleep, otherwise, and I didn’t like drugs. Porn would handle the other urges, more or less -- it usually did. I was as needy as she was -- maybe worse. The one thing that could have screwed us hadn’t come up -- the, ‘We can’t go home -- my husband... ‘ admission. The more we were together, the.
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