Our Happy Slave (5/?) {Redman} {MF md Rom}
(c) October 2000
Authors Note: I would be interested in any comments or
corrections that readers might care to share with me.
I can be reached at redman@seductive.com.
Also, this work is not intended to be read by minors.
If you are not legally an adult in your country or
culture, please do not read it. This is a work
of fiction. Everything in it is a product of my own
imagination and does not represent the way that anyone
of any age should be treated or to represent a norm of
acceptable behavior.
Our Happy Slave 5/?
My loves to watch foreign films. Anything with
subtitles. The fancier the clothes, the better.
I come in on Sunday afternoon from working outside,
hot and sweaty. I gulp downed a bottle of something
cold from the fridge, not even bothering to see or
taste what it was.
I can hear the whispering of French from the TV/VCR in
our cool, dark living room. I sneak quietly inside to
see what silly girl-thing is going on. There on the
couch, facing away from me, I see my two girls. They
are sprawled naked, legs splayed in opposite
directions. Even before I got close enough to smell
them, I heard them both groaning nonsensical foreign
phrases. I voyeuristically watch as they frig each
other, moaning to the rhythm of words neither
understands.
My sees me and gives me a leer. She looks like
she has already once and is working fast on
another. It's obvious from my wife's eyes that she has
a taste for at the moment, so I leave them alone
to their playings.
-----
After I take a long, relaxing bath I lay, naked and
clean, dozing on the big bed. I wake slowly to the
sensation of my slavering over my thickening
shaft: her eyes round and glassy, her body loose and
relaxed just in from her lezzie games. "Thanks for
letting us finish, " she groans appreciatively. "That
girl is delicious." Her near exhaustion made the
workings of her tongue feel even sweeter.
Ever since I saw them, my body has been pulsing. I
think about their fingers in each other's warm
pussies. I think of Connie licking hungrily at my
wife's - at her cunt. I think of them
whispering in French and I want to explosively on
their faces.
I think my was surprised at how quickly my shaft
hardened. I know she was surprised when I tossed her
limp body to the head of the bed and grabbed both
ankles to spread them widely. But, she gave me a look
of knowing acceptance, understanding my urgency even
if she didn't have the energy to reciprocate.
I fucked her hard and fast. It was like fucking into a
big, fluffy pillow. A big, fluffy pillow that stroked
my face and cooed encouragement. I fucked her loose,
exhausted and she held me against her as I came,
my head pressed against her large, wonderful breasts.
As I relaxed in her arms, she drew my face to hers and
kissed me between my eyes and on my nose. She had the
smell of on her face, and now she also reeked of
my sperm which had begun to drip out of her. She gave
me another knowing leer and told me, "Now go away you
nasty man. You both have worn me out."
I know it was petty of me, but when I rose up off of
her, seeing her tousled, sweat-streaked hair and my
cum dripping from her snatch, I felt proud. I felt
like a lion that had marked his territory once again.
It's good to be the king
-----
I piddled in the computer room, still restless and
still feeling a little silly. I was thinking about
logging on to check my e-mail when I heard Connie
humming happily in the dining room. My cock responded
like a divining rod. I suddenly wondered if there
might be something to this need to mark my territory
after they had been playing together. To stake one's
claim. To plant one's flag, both metaphorically and
physically.
I found Connie bending over the dining room table
wiping it down with a rag, stark naked. Her round
bottom quivered as she wiped and any thought I had of
anything less than conquest was banished. I grabbed
her lustily around the waist while thrusting my rock-
hard prick in between her slightly parted legs.
She bolted upright, surprised. It was only a moment
though, before she wiggled her ass against me and
squeezed my dick between her thighs.
"What kind of do you take me for, Monsieur" she
teased in a fake French accent.
"I take you for a naked little cunnie slave whose
needs to be fucked - and often," I growl. She squealed
as I turned her around and pushed her backward onto
the table. Her thighs parted rapidly and she grunted
wantonly when I penetrated her.
Connie tried crossing her legs behind me but found she
didn't need the leverage. I was already deeply
pounding her. Instead she used her heals to kick me in
the buttock, spurring me like a mount. She threw
herself backward as she arched her hips forward. She
tossed her head from side to side and began a deep,
throaty incantation.
"Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck your cunnie slave. Fuck me.
Fuck your cunnie slave. Fuck me dammit. Fuck your
cunnie slave."
When I came, it was breathtaking, but I was stroking
so roughly that it came as a glancing blow, like the
Titanic scraping itself off on an iceberg. She had
stretched out her legs in her own violent orgasm as I
shot my first, hot wad into her. I was trying to
thrust so hard into her for the second, final
that I ended up tumbling backward, falling flat on my
ass.
I couldn't get up. I was too exhausted at the moment
to move. As her legs finally relaxed she drug herself
back towards the middle of the table until all I could
see was her knees, swaying like palm trees in the
breeze. I knew that she was clenching her thighs
together as they swayed, basking in the after-fuck-
glow.
After a while, as I regained my breath, I heard her
humming contentedly to herself. I imagined my
dripping slowly out of her well-fucked snatch: our
juices mingling on the table in a puddle.
I hummed a little contentedly myself. One well-fucked
wife on the bed. One well-fucked cunnie slave on the
table.
It's good to be the king.
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