All the Good Stuff

A little explanation is needed: SLoW (Sir Lawrence of ......), Larry, and Master are facets of my lover's personality; LL (Lady Lis), Lis, and Gypsy are facets of my own personality, corresponding to his.

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SLoW and LL have been engaging in courtly pursuits for some time now. Master and Gypsy plot and plan outrageous adventures. Larry oversees the soup but has been getting a little lonesome, even though voyeuristic pursuits are enjoyable. Having allowed these alter egos to wander off on their own, he retires. It's late, the midnight oil long since expired.

As he drifts into slumber, he visits his light o'love and hears her soft whispering in his ear and is content. The dark curtains fall and he sleeps. The dreams begin.

Larry is dealing tonight with a most impossible being -- his mind says so. The enthusiastic woman who accompanies him to the room is all things at once: old, young, wise, innocent, bawdy, and prim.

Mostly she is his. She promises earthly delights and ethereal transports, laughing as he opens the door. She has a treat if he will just cooperate. Curious he agrees and she sets about busily gathering her materials from her satchel. Scarves, candles, feathers, oils, and sundry other appurtenances. She checks her watch rather anxiously and chases him off to bathe, promising to join him shortly.

Standing in the shower a few minutes later, the curtain parts and she joins him. She kisses him lightly and steps behind him to dodge his grasp. Larry's interest is rising to the occasion but she seems disinterested and not a little edgy.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"Nope!" She replies too brightly.

An uneasiness slithers through his belly before he pushes it aside. She proceeds to bathe him with her usual thoroughness but in a businesslike manner that discourages fun and games. She laughs at a secret something. Music plays in the background.

She towels them both briskly and leads him to a chair in the other room. Standing squarely in front of him, she asks, "Trust me?"

His response of, "Absolutely," is rewarded with a broad smile and a deep kiss.

He reaches to pull her into his lap and is foiled. She brings the scarf over and blindfolds him. She pulls his arms behind his back and secures them with light leather thongs, slightly damp, as well. The surprise comes when she begins to fasten his ankles to the chair legs. A few moments pass and nothing happens. He hears her rustling around the room. The light level changes.

"Honey?" No response.

The door opens, "Be right back!" and the door closes.

"Lis?" No response. Minutes pass and he begins to test the strength of her knots to no avail. His mind is swirling. What is she doing? He hears voices outside the room, then the door opens and closes again. Voices?

"Lis?" No response.

She's in the room. He can sense her. He can smell her scent. But another fragrance intrudes. Voices?

"Lis!" No response. He tries a different tack

"Slave! Unbind me!" No response.

His knee is assaulted with an incredibly soft touch. It is so light it is almost a tickle. Now the same touch is moving up his thigh. And the scent. It's a vanilla Lis's is peppery floral. Who is touching him? The tickly assault continues teasing his balls. His cock begins to rise. The touch is so light! It moves up his shaft and teases the head. He can feel his juices begin to flow. His pulse accelerates and he relaxes into the feeling. He remembers the ostrich feather. It's a tantalizing sensation. He begins to tighten his stomach to lift into the teasing presence, for just a little more pressure. And the sensation vanishes as if it never were.

Another assault on his senses. A cool liquid is sliding down his chest. It crosses his pecs and slips onto a torturous path across his abdominals, and then into the hair at the base of his sex. Hands spread his thighs, and fasten them open with ties. A moment of moving air and hands move down over his shoulders. Again the vanilla scent. Who??

"Who are you?" No response.

He can feel a body behind his head, but it is subtly wrong for his Lis. Skin brushes his face as the hands move down his chest, over his belly, and linger at his groin, never touching that which he wishes touched. Strong hands, but relatively small female. Goes with the scent. But who? The thought of an anonymous surrogate causes a stronger surge in his center. His hips surge. The massaging touch continues for some minutes, causing his responses to intensify. He reaches to taste the arm by his head still seeking information. The touch vanishes. Again air moves.

Body heat at his knees. Hands, slick with oil, move up his thighs. They stop with the thumbs gently lifting his balls, fingers on his belly under his cock. The fingers slide up his shaft lifting it away from his rippling stomach. His breathing deepens, a little ratchet at the top. His hips thrust toward the long sought stimulation. The fingers move with him, teasing. A loud groan escapes his lips as a hot wet tongue slides up the shaft to the head. Hot breath holds him. He is now in agonal breathing. His head strains forward, muscles strain against their bonds, thighs tremble, hip surges, seeking the warm haven that has vanished. His world is centered on his throbbing cock. Even the fingers holding him gently vertical tease. Suddenly his desires are met, a hot, wet sheath engulfs him. And draws back, then descends again as he reaches his climax. Gutteral noises squeeze from his rigid throat. And then the touch vanishes. All stimulus vanishes. His own heavy breathing is the main source of stimulus to his senses. Then his ears catch a rustling sound. And a door opens, and closes. Voices.

"Lis?" No response.

"Damn it! Lis!" No response.

Time drags. He strains his senses. A door opens and closes.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry that took so long! I didn't mean to leave . . . ." She stopped moving, her voice broke mid-thought. "What's been going on here?"

"What the hell do you mean?" Larry demanded. "Let me loose!"

Lis rushed to do his bidding. With trembling fingers she unbound his legs, then his hands. He ripped the blindfold from his eyes. Lis stood before him. She was dressed in a smile. Larry was thunderstruck.

"Down slave!" he bellowed. ......

...... and thus the tale ends of a little duplicity . . . or not.