This blog entry is a continuation of this post.
My pilot friend met me in the lobby. We hugged hello, and when his arms wrapped around me he said, “I’ve been dreaming about worshipping your ass all week.” I purred, flush with memories. A closet submissive with a guilty conscience, the man had a serious thing for asses and freshly-worn panties.
We had drinks and some appetizers in the hotel bar and talked about all sorts of things. We talked about his work, and how being an airline pilot still qualified him as a pussy magnet. I learned a lot about the sexual habits of airline personnel, who were apparently uninhibited by marriage in their activities. Apparently pilots and flight attendants are constitutionally unable to be monogamous. Every overnight was like staying in Vegas. Apparently, what happens on an overnight never happened.
Within two hours we were upstairs in his hotel room, my black leather dufflebag sitting prominently on the bed. He kept glancing at my little bag of tricks, growing progressively more excited. I grabbed the bag and walked toward the bathroom, telling him that when I came out, I expected him to be ready for me.
In the bathroom, I disrobed, carefully hanging my litle black dress on a hook. I pulled my harness out of the bag, located the dildo, and gave it a quick soap-and-water rinse. I noticed the Fleet’s enema packaging in the garbage, so I knew it wasn’t necessary to hang up my old-fashioned enema bag — my pilot had already prepared himself for the evening’s adventures. I adjusted my black satin bikini-bottom panties, making sure they fit snugly into the crack of my ass, plumped my breasts in the bustier, and headed back into the room with the dildo and hardness in one hand and my bag of tricks in the other.
Pilot was on his knees by the desk, utterly naked and fully erect. When he saw me, he moaned. I set the bag and toys on the bed and sauntered over to him. When I reached him I grabbed him by the hair and forced his face up against my panty-covered pussy. He rubbed his face against the satin, breathed deeply, and sighed. His hands caressed my legs on their way up to my ass, which he cupped worshipfully in his palms as if each cheek was made of Ming china. I told him that I’d had sex with Simon a few hours ago, and that he’d cum in my pussy and my ass, so I had some cuckold clean-up work for him. Which he proceeded to do with enthusiasm. Simon sucked the crotch of my panties and then cleaned my pussy and ass with his tongue like the good little submissive ass-worshipper he was.
I rewarded him by bending him over the desk and thoroughly thrashing his ass with my crop. When he was nice and pink with lots of good welts, I massaged cocoa butter creme into his skin. He sighed so voluptuously that I couldn’t help but pinch his welts once in a while, seasoning his pleasure with jolts of pain that made him hiss and moan. Then I put on my harness, slid a polyurethane condom down the length of my big 10 inch strap-on, and rubbed more cocoa butter creme along its length. I was making it very very slippery, so it would slide in easily, no matter how ready Pilot was. He liked the pain, the feeling of violation, and I was just the woman to give him what he craved. Oh yes, I certainly was.
Read the continuation of this story here.
