She comes to me, my Butterfly, every fortnight's Friday evening, and each Wednesday between. On the weekends, those weekends, Our Weekends, we often have a chaperone whose sensibilities we wish not to offend. The sunlit hours and twilight, then, become a whirl of teasing touches and seductive stares. She has beautiful legs, milady does, and I encourage her to dress to emphasize them. Short skirts are my favorite, but I've provided her an old pair of my gym shorts for a more casual, lazy weekend. Short and too tight for me, baggy and longer on her they are perfect for my ends. Unbeknownst to the Chaperone I do not allow My Pet to wear panties during our hours together. Butterfly is quite adept at finding creative ways to remind me of the absence of her unmentionables, occasionally subtle, occasionally vulgar. Either way I am very appreciative.
But occasionally my fortunes change and we manage a stolen moment before the sun has set.
One recent Friday evening, she arrived clad in jeans and a button-down blouse, her preferred casual attire. After a heated greeting of warm embraces, wet kisses and wandering hands we went inside. She greeted our Chaperone as I took my usual seat on the couch in my den area, the next room over. She joined me after exchanging pleasantries with our hostess and I suggested she would be more comfortable in something less restrictive. She assented and went to my bedroom to change, pushing the door nearly closed behind her. I glanced through the door-less archway separating our quarters from our hostess' and heard our Chaperone mumbling something as she stood. She was headed to the lavatory, it seemed, with a book in hand!
Interesting. This would guarantee us a few moments without interruption. At least five minutes, probably not ten. I quickly crossed the room to my door. As I peeked inside, I was instantly rewarded with the delicious sight of milady in the buff, her back to me as she stepped out of her panties. My arousal at our earlier greeting was doubled, trebled, as I took in every delectable curve available to my hungry eyes. I slipped through the door pressing it nearly closed as I attempted to remain silent. Stealthily I crept behind Butterfly and wrapped my arms around her, relishing, instantly, the feel of her bare breasts on my arms, the curve of her bottom against my pelvis. She drew a sharp, surprised breath and I kissed her lightly on the back of her neck.
"Are you trying to get us caught?" she protested as my hands slid slowly over the bare skin of her belly, down over her hips and the tops of her thighs. I allowed my hands to roam caressing the tender curve where her bottom meets her leg, the small of her back, up and over her shoulders to meet again in front under those soft, full breasts. I kissed and nuzzled her neck as my right hand cupped her breast, massaging gently and my left trailed slowly down her belly to skim the silky hair between her legs. We lingered there briefly, me luxuriating in her body, she enjoying the worship of my hands. It occurred to me that she was right; the door was still ajar behind us.
I turned and pushed the door closed and secured it with the bolt. I returned to our previous position, kissing her cheek now and her earlobe. "Oh, Master," she whispered as my lips nuzzled the flesh behind her ear. I spun her around and looked down into those beautiful brown eyes. I could be lost for hours in those eyes. She stepped up on tiptoe and pressed her lips against mine, softly at first and slightly parted, then more urgently. I pulled her closer, her breasts pressed firmly against the cotton of my t-shirt, my arms wrapped around her at the small of her back. My lips parted and our tongues found each other, themselves like long parted lovers hungry and eager for the other's touch, long denied.
But our window of opportunity was closing and there would be time to indulge all the senses later. Again I spun her, now away from me, and guided her toward the bed. She reached the bed and crawled onto it, bottom up and inviting, legs spread slightly. She rocked back against me as I fumbled to lower my shorts.
"Please," she groaned, the sound emanating from deep within. "Please, Master, I've been such a good girl."
I stroked her bottom with my left hand then reached down and parted her moist lips with my fingers. My right hand guided my cock into the warm wetness there, but only the tip.
