Dear Diary...

Dear Diary:

This was a night to remember (Cyndi Lauper song reference unintentional). Tired and wired as I am, I figure it's best to write it all down now, before I forget the details or they get blurred. And after I've finished, I'm going to tear the attic apart until I find a safe place to stash you away, so no one ever reads this. At least, not till I've been dead and buried a hundred years or more and the great-great-great-great grandchildren find my diary and sit around shaking their heads about that crazy old coot who called herself... of all things... Silk!

The trip to New Jersey was pretty uneventful. I hate bus rides, but I didn't want to take the chance that my car would break down along the way and I'd miss my meeting with Master. Too much went into the planning of this meeting to let it ride on anything as chancy as my car. Really, I should think about getting a new one. But the insurance would kill me, not to mention the payments, and... oops...

I digress...

Anyway, the bus trip was boring. I knew I should have brought my CD player with me, but I expected I'd be able to sleep at least a couple of hours. Stupid. I'm such a light sleeper. The sound of the little table fan turning OFF when we lose the electricity wakes me up... the LACK of noise... lol. Well, so I watched the scenery pass by. About all I remember is seeing Yankee Stadium off to the right, and thinking about Whyit and how many bets I've lost to him because of those damned Yankees. The time just before Vampie's party comes to mind, when the bet was, if the Yankees won, Whyit got to spank my naked ass at the party in front of everyone. Funny thing is, I didn't know whether to root for or against them!! Lol

I got into New Jersey at around 4:15 and took a taxi to the hotel. I had enough time for a quick nap, a long shower and getting dressed for my meeting. The shower was delightful... especially since I'd thought to bring my own toiletries... shampoo, soap, toothpaste... the works. I hate those little samples the hotels give you. Not even enough shampoo to get an armpit properly clean, let alone a whole head. Plus I wanted to use the cream hair remover on my pussy, to be sure there wasn't any stubble. When I got out of the shower, there wasn't a hair left on my legs, crotch or underarms... not that I could have seen it anyway... the whole bathroom was filled with steam. I had to dry off in the bedroom because the dampness kept redepositing itself on my skin. And, of course, no matter how many times I used the towel to dry my pussy, I was so turned on by what was going to happen, it just kept getting wetter and wetter. I finally gave up on it.

My hands were shaking as I started to get dressed. And it's a good thing I brought an extra pair of stockings, because I put my nails right through the first one I tried to slip on. Pissed me off, too, at $16 a pair! I was more careful after that and managed to get them both on without a run or snag. Then I put on the black garter belt and hooked it to the stockings. I never wear panties, but found myself wishing I did, suddenly. It might have been because of the feeling of having my ass exposed, with just the garter straps hugging the backs and fronts of my thighs, but somehow, having that garter belt and stockings on made me feel worse than naked... I can't explain it.

I brought the black satin corset with me and, after a bit of tugging and sucking in my breath until I thought my rib cage would snap, I managed to get it all hooked up and tight, the way it's supposed to be. It pushes my breasts up nicely; not up and over the top, but just so that they're rounded and inviting. The nipples are barely covered, but it fits so well, I don't worry that I'm going to pop out of the top of it. Then I slipped on the short, black spandex skirt with the little sequins running down one side. And my ankle boots. One of the most comfortable pair of shoes I own, the leather is so soft. I hope those boots never wear out, I like them so much.

Back to the bathroom to put on a few pieces of jewelry and a ton of makeup. A black velvet ribbon around my neck with a small pearl dangling from the center, big hooped earrings along with the two studs that I always wear in my right ear, a few silver rings, my watch and a couple of silver bracelets. Slutty, but not screaming slut.

I used a lot of bronze eye shadow... it brings out my eyes... and went a little heavy on the eyeliner. A ton of mascara. Blush on my cheeks, nose and chin. And then the lip liner and lipstick... I still remember that guy online who saw my picture saying to me, "did you know you have the perfect mouth for sucking cock?" And yes, diary, I should have been shocked, but it just made me nearly cum where I stood. Nearly. Back then, I still needed lots of clitoral stimulation to have an orgasm. Not like now, when Master tells me on the phone, "cum Silk" and it's automatic. That didn't happen right away.

My watch told me that I had about fifteen minutes to get to the bar where we had agreed to meet, so I checked myself over once in the bathroom mirror, decided it wasn't going to get any better, and set off on foot to meet Master. Tension was running very high, especially since I'd never seen Master, but only had his description from his online profile. I knew he was 5'-11", but that wasn't going to help me much if he was sitting down. And he said he weighed about 193 pounds. Well, that seems like a pretty average weight for someone of his height, so anyone who looked average was possibly my Master. I also knew he had gray hair with a receding hairline and a moustache. That might help a bit. Then again...

But here I was, walking into a strange bar, with the intentions of seducing my Master... and all I had was a vague idea of what he looked like. Hell, I could end up fucking the janitor and not know it till it was too late!

What a smoky place. And darkly lit. There were several small tables scattered around the room, and most were occupied. The floor needed a good washing... even in the dimly lit space, I could see that much. There were old and faded pictures on the walls of what I could only imagine were sports figures and "famous" visitors to the bar, but the glass on the frames looked like it hadn't been washed since before the Depression, so really it could have been Normal Rockwell's for all I knew.

The bar itself was oval shaped, with stools all around it. There were three small televisions suspended on brackets from the ceiling and placed in such a way that all the patrons of the bar could see at least one of them. And on each screen was a different sporting event. As I made my way to the bar, I quickly looked around and realized I was one of only two women in the place, the other woman being probably in her late sixties, toothless, disheveled and nearly falling off her seat drunk. When I say every eye in the place was on me as I crossed the room, it is not an exaggeration, nor a boast. Most of these people looked like the scum of the earth.

Which made identifying Master considerably easier than I had anticipated. He was towards the back of the bar, where he could watch the door and had seen me come in. I glanced at him once, very briefly, with no more interest than I had paid any of the others, and slowly made my way to the backside of the bar, sitting down two barstools away from him, along side a very fat man with dirty, greasy hair and a full day's growth of whiskers on his face. I could smell his dirty body and wondered how many days it was since he'd showered, and debated moving to another stool. But just then, Master got up very slowly, grabbed his drink off the bar and came to stand on the other side of me. I could feel him as he passed behind me, like a source of heat that could either warm or burn. His voice was low and soft in my ear as he asked if I minded if he sat down.

It took my every effort to act casual, look up at him, and smile pleasantly as I invited him to sit. My body was a mass of jangled nerves and I was beginning to doubt my ability to continue this play. But he seemed oblivious to my struggle and sat down, letting his leg graze mine as he settled himself onto his stool. The touch sent shock waves through me and I couldn't look at him, and so stared at the damned baseball game on the television screen facing me, thinking to myself, I HATE baseball.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked. Finally I summoned up the control I needed and turned to look at him. He sat so close, I could smell his heat. It was unnerving to have him so close. But I was here for a reason, and suddenly remembered just what that was. Like the slut he expected me to be, I smiled into his eyes while my hands toyed with the ribbon around my neck before dropping my fingers to my chest, swirling them around gently between my breasts, luring his eyes downwards. "Ginger Ale, Sir," I answered.

We talked about where each of us lived, the fact that neither of us had been to this bar before, and that neither of us were really much into drinking. I liked to watch his mouth when he talked, wondering if I would find his moustache soft or stiff when finally we kissed. And how his tongue would feel touching mine. We laughed easily together and, before long, I forgot there was anyone else in the bar. When I felt his hand on my knee, it didn't surprise me that my legs automatically spread open a little, and he seemed to have expected it, because the smile on his face grew wider and the corners of his eyes crinkled. And as we talked, his hand rode higher and higher on my thigh, pushing up the hem of my skirt as it went, until the tops of my stockings were exposed to his view. And anyone else's who happened to be looking. I didn't care about the others... I knew Master wanted them to see, and I knew he wouldn't let them touch me.

He turned his hand over, and with the backs of his fingers began to stroke the inside of my thigh, very gently, almost tickling me. My legs obeyed when he urged them further apart and his hand began to explore higher, pushing up under my skirt towards my very wet, very eager pussy. He leaned towards me, no longer talking, and began a sweet and gentle assault on my mouth with his lips and tongue as, with two fingers, he entered my pussy and pushed them deep, bringing a small moan to my throat. I knew the fat man was watching every move, and it just made me want to give more of myself to Master.

As he kissed me and finger fucked my cunt, I ran my hands slowly up his legs, kneading him with the heels of my palms, until I reached his crotch and let my hand grasp him through his pants. His cock was so hard. His other hand covered my breast and found my nipple through the material of my corset and squeezed hard enough to make me flinch. I, in turn, began a rhythmic stroking of his cock. I felt, rather than saw, the fat man get up and make his way to the men's room, and could just imagine what he was doing in there. Not relieving his bladder, I was sure.

Master continued to kiss me and finger fuck me. I found the zipper on his pants and carefully unzipped them, feeling for the opening his underwear, freeing his cock and slipping his balls out where I could better enjoy them. While his fingers fucked my cunt, his thumb found my clit and began a gentle massage, bringing me closer and closer to wanting release. I felt his fingers leave me. He brought his hand to my mouth and told me to lick his fingers clean. I took them into my mouth, staring into his eyes, and sucked them clean, using my tongue to lick every drop from his hand. And then I slipped off my stool and onto my knees, he stood, placing me between his legs. With my mouth and tongue, I began to stroke his hard cock. I licked his balls and took them into my hot, wet mouth, letting them enjoy the gentle massage of my tongue. I took my time, looking up at his face, watching to be sure he was enjoying my mouth. His balls finally slipped from my mouth, and my tongue and lips tugged and taunted the head of his cock, stroking the smooth skin, my tongue tapping that dimple just below the head, taking Master in deeper and deeper, sucking him with a firm but gentle pressure, until the head of his cock was pressed to the back of my throat and even deeper. His hands grasped my head, and he began to fuck my mouth, the way a man likes to fuck a slut. With my hands, I kneaded his ass and thighs, feeling choked by his cock and wanting more.

Every man in the bar was standing around us now, most of them with their cocks in their hands, stroking themselves in rhythm with Master's thrusting hips. I could feel the excitement in Master and knew he was building to a powerful climax. Men were moaning and shooting cum all over the place, watching Master fuck my face, wishing it was them. And then, deep in my throat, I felt the hot, sticky cum fill me. I swallowed, enjoying the salty stickiness as it coated my throat, and heard Master moan that primitive moan men sometimes make when their body releases into a woman. I wondered if it would ever stop, he kept thrusting so hard and deep. But eventually his movements slowed, then stilled, and he released a very deep and satisfied sigh.

I helped him straighten his clothes and he helped me to my feet. He pulled me close suddenly and kissed me deeply, one hand around my shoulders, the other pushing my skirt up so that he could hold my naked ass. "Well done, slave," he said, smiling down into my eyes. "Let's get out of here. " He put some money on the bar and, with his hand on my waist, guided me out into the night.