She took her favorite position – on His lap. She wore His favorite clothing – a red and black check short pleated skirt that hardly came to the mid of her thighs along with a white blouse folded around her breasts. Not quite something one would see woman in her age wear, but she did n’t mind, at home in His lap she was a love slave. Moreover, she had been freshly spanked. So she was bouncing with joy. Her whorish instincts were into play. Though forbidden, she was touching His cock or part of His hairy chest that peeped out of the loose shirt He was wearing. She had sucked Him off not less than an hour ago, but she could not keep her hands off Him.
She was looking into His eyes and He into hers. Their eyes were playing mischief with one another. It was as if they silently spoke of lust. It was anyway a holiday. They either spent a lot of time on bed or on the couch. She was feeling very fresh and energetic. Earlier this morning He gave her that wonderful body massage from neck to toe with oil and then a bath. She could not ask for anything more. But wait, she always could. She wanted that tiny droplet of sweat coming down His chest. Without caring for permission, she bent over and licked it. She needed His body salt for nutrition.
‘You can not just keep yourself calm, can you – girl?’
‘Not unless you help me focus!’, she tried to sound innocent.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know like the arm binders or handcuffs or the ropes or the cage or the …’
‘Enough of it slut, what are you trying to do, tease me to be hard on you?’
She did not answer directly and looked away, smiling, barely able to hide her mischievous smile. Her pussy was clenching at the thought of His cock, though she lost track of the number of times she was fucked the night before. He was probably dry by now but she could take an attempt to find out if He really were or not.
‘What was that, answer me, are you never ashamed of being such a slut all the time? Being such a whore? Where is your self control?’
In a flash her skin felt the shock of burning pain searing through her whole body as she shuddered in the memories of the night before – when she was tightly bound, exposed and danced in pain for hours. The images of her own tear stricken face with a mess of cum and piss and welts all over her body came in front of her eyes.
A drop of tear came to her eye involuntarily and fell on a feeble whip mark on her breasts, that was now fading after hours of torment. She did not know if it was a tear of joy or sorry.
She put her arms around His neck, looked at Him into His eyes, ‘Who would I be a whore for, if not you?’
At that very moment, they both felt proud for each other and jumped on to each others arms once again, almost ripping their clothes. No one remembered who made the first move.