The Chauffeur 44 Seattle
- 2 years ago
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Seattle Mix Tape - The Boyfriend free porn video
Patience and time. Never rush things. Let them develop at their own pace, take it slow and you can adjust to just about anything within reason. It’s all about comfort levels…
I didn’t hate him. What I felt was resentment, not to mention the awkwardness whenever our paths crossed, usually orchestrated by her. After all, he knew all about me and what we did together – or, rather, what I was to her and how she treated me.
I.
The first few times we had dinner together, the three of us, I admit to feeling territorial. He was the newcomer. She quickly cured me of that by treating me as she always did – as her pet.
“You’re overdressed.”
“I am?”
“Yes, and you know it.”
“But -“
She shushed my objections (plural) with a simple look.
Unless specifically told, I didn’t get to sit at the table. Instead, I knelt by her side. Naked. She would feed me from her plate with her fingers, my hands resting upon my thighs or on my lap.
Still, I tried again.
“Mistress, I -“
“Not another word unless you want to spend the rest of the evening over in the corner.”
I didn’t. Not even a little. In fact, I’d rather have eaten paste. Or worms. I shushed and undressed. At least he wasn’t there to watch. He was in the dining room. He got to sit at the table. I kept my muttering to myself, although I was pretty sure she was aware.
I spent the meal next to her, kneeling, hands folded on my lap, sometimes resting my head against her thigh, needing the reassurance of her touch as she brushed her fingers through my hair and told me I was a good girl.
She fed me. A morsel at a time. I took a perverse sort of gratification that he felt nearly as awkward as I did. And afterwards, after he’d left, she would reward me. Or so I hoped.
II.
Patience and time. Never rush things. Let them develop at their own pace, taking it slow and you can adjust to just about anything within reason. It’s all about comfort levels…
The dinners continued. They weren’t a constant, but they were somewhat regular. The awkwardness faded. Eventually, it started feeling natural to be sitting at her side, across from him, naked. My role evolved. Occasionally I’d serve them. Or cook. I enjoyed cooking, especially since it meant wearing a frilly apron – a gift from her. I looked adorable in it, or so she told me, which meant the world to me. I craved her praise as much as the orgasms she gifted me with. Or the pain she inflicted upon me.,
I wasn’t an equal. I never joined in the conversations, but then I had no desire to, quite honestly. I was a pet – Her pet – and I couldn’t have been happier.
As for him, he’d grown used to me being there. Once, he had done his best not to look at the naked girl kneeling next to his girlfriend, except that sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes it would be a quick glance. Other times he’d simply stare, losing his train of thought (which embarrassed me while amusing my Mistress to no end).
Eventually, he simply accepted my presence and would smile at me and say, ‘Hello.’ Twice he’d even fed me after She had me urged to over to the other side of the table. The first time I didn’t like it and growled a bit – at her, not him. Just once, to show my displeasure, knowing I could probably get away with it. Probably. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode. I decided, almost immediately, that should there be a second time, I’d not make the same mistake. There was, and I didn’t, much to my relief.
III.
Patience and time. Never rush things. Let them develop at their own pace, taking it slow and you can adjust to just about anything within reason. It’s all about comfort levels…
The conversations began to include me occasionally. Not that I joined in. I was merely the topic. I am not sure if it was meant to embarrass me. If it was, It achieved its purpose. Not that I minded. Quite the opposite, in fact. Blushing with every word, I’d listen to her talk about me with a sense of pride. Yes, I was a good girl. Yes, I was a slut. Yes, I was perverted and debauched. Yes, I liked to be whipped. Yes, I…
“She likes to hint at certain things. She thinks she’s being clever and, at the same time, knows she’s not.”
“What things?”
“She has a fascination for watersports.”
“Piss play you mean?”
A nod. “I’m not really a fan, but I indulge her once in a rare while. Probably shouldn’t, since it encourages her, but it’s a little too late now.”
His gaze shifted from her to me, smiling a little as he watched me pressing against her a little harder, taking comfort, obviously not comfortable with the conversation and, at the same time, incredibly turned on by it and the possibility that…
It was a game she liked to play. I knew it. He knew it. And she knew that we knew it.
“What kind of things does she… do you… do?” Genuine curiosity. He asked her, but he was still looking at me.
“Tell him, pet.”
I looked up at her, wide-eyed. I wasn’t used to being part of the conversation, after all.
“Tell me, then,” she said, taking pity on me.
Eyes closed, I prayed for courage while she waited patiently, petting me reassuringly the entire time, until…
“Everything? I like… when you pee on me, Mistress. Especially in my… mouth.”
I stopped there. It was enough. Too much, really, so I found a fiber on the carpet that was slightly discolored and examined it for an eternity.
“Some of my clients would ask for it. They were into being degraded. It’s not really my thing.”
“But she likes it?”
“Yes.” She wrapped several strands of my hair around her finger fondly.
“Tell him why.”
“I. It. Feels… intimate. Like she’s sharing something that only I can have. She won’t pee on just anyone. Not on anyone else. Even you. Only me.” There was defiance in my voice and I sat up a little straighter.
He laughed, but there was warmth in his voice. “Yeah, not really my thing either, sweet pea.”
I forgot to mention that he calls me, affectionately, sweet pea at times. Considering the subject, it suddenly took on a new meaning…
IV.
Patience and time. Never rush things. Let them develop at their own pace, taking it slow and you can adjust to just about anything within reason. It’s all about comfort levels…
I don’t infringe on her time lightly but there are times when I need her, and she understands.
A half-empty bottle of wine beside the hot tub. Enough to make them giggly. They’ve been fucking. They would be now if I wasn’t here. Sunset is a distant memory.
“Come over,” she’d said.
“But, you’re - he -“
“Don’t make me ask twice, pet.”
I know she can hear it in my voice. She knows my shadows better than almost anyone.
“Take a cab. I don’t want you driving.”
I hold it together for the ride over. Barely. I use the side gate…
“Undress. Join us,”
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“Hush.”
“It’s alright, sweet pea.”
He’s drunker than her. Not that he’s drunk. Tipsy. I join them, chilled to the bone – Seattle winters. Steam drifts upward as I begin to thaw in her arms, her chin resting upon my shoulder.
“Need to talk?”
I simply shake my head. “This is good.”
“Is it okay if he stays?”
I don’t answer for a long while. She’s left it up to me. Just a little bit of control so desperately needed.
“Yes,” I answer, but I’m looking at him when I do. “Stay. Please.”
V.
Patience and time. Never rush things. Let them develop at their own pace, taking it slow and you can adjust to just about anything within reason. It’s all about comfort levels…
Another night, warmer than the last. This time I am expected. This time there are no shadows. This time there is a different kind of need, one that burns away the darkness. This time there is no bottle. My heart is fluttering in my chest until I am sure it will burst into a million butterflies.
I am laying on my back, giggling. He’s reclining on the couch, sideways, one foot on the floor. Her back is against his chest, his arm draped loosely around her waist. My head is on her lap, feet hanging over the armrest.
“I need to pee.”
He groans. So do I, neither of us wanting to get up.
“Shush. Just let me up.”
We untangle ourselves.
“Come on.” This time she is the one giggling as she captures both our hands in hers and leads us to the bathroom.
“You. Sit.” She points at him and then the edge of the tub.
“What do -“
“Don’t ask. Just do it.”
Her Mistress voice. I shiver. He looks at her quizzically as she rolls up the bath rug and pushes it towards the doorway than sits beside him. He’s wearing shorts and a sweatshirt, she’s got on one of his flannel shirts and panties. Me? Just socks. My feet get cold.
“I need to pee, Rachel.”
Her voice is soft, yet intense, and she’s looking at me so fiercely that I forget to breathe for the longest time.
“Yes, Mistress,” I finally manage, although I’m not sure if I voice the words out loud or simply think them. It doesn’t matter. Not all conversations need to be heard.
She smiles encouragingly as I kneel at her feet, lifting slightly so that I can remove her panties. Breathlessly, I wait until she spreads her legs open, draping one thigh over his, exposing her beautiful pussy. I’m mesmerized. It’s all I have eyes for.
“I need to pee,” she repeats.
I don’t say a word. Instead, I turn my back to her and lean back, back, back as far as I can, my hands on the tiles supporting me, the top of my head resting against the side of the tub, her pussy just above me.
“I can’t hold it any longer,” she announces, ending with a soft moan as she begins to piss. I manage to catch most of it in my mouth, swallowing it down, though some of it runs down my cheeks and down my chin, my neck, and over my tits and tummy, making its way to my cunt. I swallow, sparing a single glance at him as he watches…
Wynona
- 02.09.2021
- 8
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- Category:
- Watersports
