Warning! Adult sexual content. You must be of legal age in your country to read this blog.
Part One: Van Go
Part Two: Muskoka Love
Part Four: Tongue Tied
Part Five: Weekend Epilogue
It’s true what they say about tall men … at least my tall man. Andrew’s* cock is the biggest I have ever seen. My eyes would widen in shock and awe. I was so sore at this point, I was considering putting an icepack between my legs. Yes … that sounded like a great idea. Fucked so hard, I couldn’t walk.
Add a reddened butt from his spankings and I was a hot mess.
I got crushed ice from the cottage fridge dispenser, put it in a baggie and wrapped it in a small tea towel. I sat on the sofa to sip my coffee while stuffing the icepack between my legs and replayed the last two night’s sex games in my head.
We were vacationing in the lovely Muskoka region of Ontario. As soon as we arrived, Andrew had asked me “Would you like to be tied up to a tree or fucked over a bench?” And then he had done both. We had brought our favourite toy the Ace of Spades along … and hadn’t had it out to play yet, except for the ride up. I knew it was coming.
I wanted tonight to be special. I decided to take the truck and go into town for some supplies. While we had chicken, I wanted to turn dinner into a seafood clam bake with corn on the cob and a delightful white wine sauce. Andrew loved my cooking. I am multi-talented! He always said I was the perfect woman. Cook in the kitchen, lady in the living room and whore in the bedroom.
The clouds were moving into cottage country today so we might have to settle for amusing ourselves with some indoor activities.
I hopped in the truck to grab food and red duct tape in town. It matched the dress I would wear tonight. I stood in line for the liquor store and chatted with the gentleman behind me. He cast an appreciative glance at my jean shorts and talked about the township. What lake was I on? I told him and mentioned we were staying the Red A-frame cottage. Daniel* introduced himself and said he knew where we were. His place was two kilometres past on the lake road.. Perhaps we would be interested in an afternoon of sailing, weather permitting? I gave him a non-committal “Sounds great … nice to meet you” and waved a quick goodbye over my shoulder.
Once back at the cottage, Andrew was awake and showered. I dropped the bags on the counter, wrapped my arms around his arms and kissed his neck. His ears. Nibbles. Telling him I wanted him. Nails dug into his shoulders.
He pulled me in front of him, sat me up on the counter and roughly pushed my shorts and panties to the side. When he wants me, he wants me now. I asked for this and now I was going to get it. Who is who’s slave?
I inched forward on the breakfast bar so he could penetrate me. The hand that held my shorts and panties roughly to the side also penetrated my ass with a finger. His other hand roughly squeezed my breasts.
“Lie down” he commanded.
I did and he pulled the clothes from the bottom half of my body. My knees up and feet on the counter. The cool concrete felt good on my bum. My back arched as he lifted my right leg over his shoulder and slid in. It hurt so good … Andrew stared at me as he slowly fucked me. I draped my other leg off the counter but he brought it back close to his right and twisted me over onto my side. He had control. My legs had nowhere to go. I was a pretzel getting fucked on a breakfast bar. My eyes closed and I gave into the moment.
He controlled our beat. I always want fast and furious, but Andrew makes me wait. Since he had me rolled onto my side, facing the big glass window of our cottage, he had access to my bum and slid his finger tip in. I groaned and swore.
I was approaching the point of no return. The event horizon. I opened my eyes and … saw strangely familiar eyes looking inside the cottage. I looked at him and he at me. A hand poised to knock on the A-frame door. My mind shot through the possibilities. My orgasm ran and hid. My cheeks burned but what to do? Option A) Close my eyes and pretend we didn’t have a voyeur. Option B) Tell Andrew. Option C) … NEXT!
I didn’t want to explain so I chose Option A to be followed by Option B. There are no secrets between myself and Andrew. I closed my eyes and let Andrew move my legs in knots and he finally made me come all over the counter with a splash. He followed me right over the edge. There is no guessing for us. We know when the other is at that point. We know when to hold back. When to keep going. When to tease. I can feel the change in him physically as he is about to come. No need for him to say “I am coming!”
I turned and lay my back on the concrete counter, my knees hanging over the edge. I contemplated what to say and how. And decided against it. Unless he was a fool, Daniel would not be back to ask us to play lawn darts with the locals. It kinda turned me on that he saw the whole thing, but my hand passed up over my eyes in a groan. For me, the thrill of getting caught, didn’t actually include getting caught. I felt like the 3-year-old caught stealing from the cookie jar one too many times.
“You OK?” Andrew asked.
“We had a visitor,“ I said … and told him the story. He laughed and chastised me for not putting on a real show. Real show? I thought we did just fine. Talk about poor timing! I had no idea he would follow me home …
We did end up meeting a bunch of the boaters out by the large diving dock about 500 metres off the beach shore. Daniel was there. He smiled and avoided us at first, then slipped into his lake Ambassador role to encourage us to come dancing by the beach tonight. I turned sideways to whisper a warning to Andrew that our Peeping Tom was there. Andrew smiled brilliantly. It turned him on to know this guy watched us fuck.
The rain held off, but the sky remained cloudy. We spent the day on the lake with the boats and tubes and boards and lots of water sports. Andrew and I rode a tube together and still managed to twist our bodies around each other. He’s completely turned on by the toned definition in my arms and legs. And ass.
I told him the story of learning squats with weights on the bar. My personal trainer was a beautiful young Trinidadian woman. She was working in fitness while going to school for her PhD in Obstetrics. I loved my time with Dalissa. As she is teaching me proper form for a squat, she was right behind me. “Bend your knees and keep your bum out. As you come down, you should touch me.” I squatted several times, deep in concentration, then looked up into the mirror. All of the men in the gym had stopped to watch us. I laughed and whispered to her that we had an audience.
I squatted again and let out a loud moan. Dalissa smacked my ass and whooped like a cowgirl. Then she laughed and said “OK boys, that’s it for the show!” They groaned and begged us to continue.
I have her to thank for my ass.
Andrew and I stopped the boat and watched local talent strut their stuff over water ski jumps in daring twists and turns. Finally exhausted … every kid pulled … we waved, said our goodbyes to everyone and headed back to our dock.
“I’m going to have a nap, Babe,” Andrew said, “Are you coming?”
“No thanks,” I told him. I wanted to get dinner ready and dress.
I prepped chicken. Shrimp. Clams. Lobster tails. Mussels. Corn. Potatoes. A delicate white wine sauce with onions, parsley and chives.
I showered. My hair done up. Makeup. Chandelier earrings. The Red Dress.
My red dress was a masterpiece. It’s a deep red that hugs the tone in my arms and every curve all the way down to my bum. The skirt has a long train flowing out the back. It’s simple in its elegance. I wanted to be photographed on a windy rock in this dress. It’s meant to be windswept. It’s ethereal. It’s wind. It’s untamed. It’s me.
I found it on Etsy. It wasn’t expensive, but it is beautiful. It hugged all the right places.
When Andrew awoke I was … the Lady in Red. Seductress.
We had a gorgeous evening of dinner and drinks. Five star food. Wine. The chicken and clam bake was roasted in a big open pot over the fire pit. We shucked clams, pulled lobster tails out of the shell, picked nuggets of mussels out of their tiny black sea shells and sucked on juicy shrimp. If you examine a mussel carefully, it holds the shape of a woman. Andrew licks his. I had cut the corn cobs in sections making them easier to hold. Juice ran down my chin as I stripped the corn. Andrew wiped it away with his finger before it dripped onto my dress.
The red dress was long, flowing and beautifully sexy. After dinner, I hopped up and balanced on the boulder while Andrew got out the camera. He photographed me in bare feet on granite in the moody night sky. Daring, I pulled up my dress and he snapped more shots. Lightning streaked by.
The quickness of the downpour caught us by surprise. Rather than run in, I grabbed his hand and ran for the deck. I figured we weren’t the tallest item around and would be safe.
The rain pelted my dress. It was soaked and clung to my curves even more. I gave up caring and just gave in to the storm. Andrew sat on the sofa and I climbed on top, pulling the drenched trails of fabric up. I fucked him outside in the worst of the storm. Rain slashing through the strands of my hair and pouring in rivers down my breasts. Wind whipped around us … the lake was turbulent.
I loved the freedom to experience the storm. I was in my element. I AM the storm. I have always been the storm.
I rode him and pushed him down on his back. Our hands locked, we fucked until both of us came, our howls swirling in the thunder and wind. I am sure a pair of wolves answered us somewhere.
We ran into the cottage and stripped at the door. Best thing about the dress was that it would be as good as new after a quick run through the small washer and dryer.
Since I was naked, I went to the bedroom to get my bondage body suit. The only way to describe it is it’s an intricate web of leather straps that circle and span my body. A ring attached to the center is meant for chains and leashes. It crisscrosses around my breasts and across my belly, between my legs and fans up my ass and back to my shoulders. It hides nothing, but is daringly seductive. Andrew loves this costume best.
I slipped off my earrings, put on my black heels and my Collar.
We listened to music and danced slowly while we drank our wine. Sometime around 9pm the electricity went out. We gathered lanterns for light.
Andrew took the flashlight and went to our bedroom. He came back with Tristan, the Ace of Spades and lubrication.
I’m never ready for this toy to penetrate my asshole. Andrew asked me to assume the position on the floor. On my knees. Legs spread. Ass up. Face down on the floor. He lubed and inserted Tristan. I winced and saw stars for a second as it went in. It forced my body to yield when it doesn’t know how.
He held his hand out and pulled me off the floor.
“Good girl.” he whispered and I purred. Andrew wanted to refresh my wine, but I asked,
“Please, sir. May I have some water?”
“You may.” he said. I got both of us tall glasses of water with slices of lemon and dug a bag of ice out of the freezer. With a bang on the concrete counter, I had large chunks of ice for our drinks. I handed Andrew his first, then gulped mine down and refilled it.
We danced to music on our phones in the light of the lanterns. More wine. We watched the wind, the sheets of rain and the lightning streak across the sky.
Andrew asked me to lie down on the bearskin rug. I did. The long fur tickled my shoulders and back. He took off his pants and kneeled before me. He penetrated my front while Tristan penetrated my backside. I arched to take him all in.
Slowly … he talked to me. Rode me. Soon the exquisite swirls of pleasure started to curl up and in between my legs. I wanted faster and Andrew gave it to me. I came in wave upon wave of orgasms. It’s hard to describe the depth of pleasure from double penetration, but it deepens the delight for me.
Andrew pulled out. He didn’t want to orgasm yet. He picked me up and carried me to the bed. He asked me to straddle the side near the top, ass up. I bent over and laid my chest on the bed, arms up and my feet spread on the floor. He duct taped my left wrist to the wrought iron headboard. Then he pushed the leather strap aside, pulled Tristan out, slid some lube along the long length of his shaft and penetrated my ass with it.
Slowly. I had to force myself to relax to take all of him in. His cock isn’t just long … it’s wide, splitting me in two. I grunt, tiny beads of perspiration on my forehead from the effort. My free hand curls into the duvet to grab it and hold on. Andrew loves that it causes me some pain, but he takes it nice and easy, allowing me to adjust to the violation. He is my Master. I am thankful that I made sure I was clean inside for him.
He is all the way in. He starts to fuck my ass, holding one hip and the straps of my bondage suit. I am forced to stay put while he trespasses. My cheeks are searing again with each pump. He smacked my ass as he fucks it. I learned to enjoy this. My head down, I brace myself and push back against him.
Andrew loves it. Tight. Forbidden. Sexy as hell. He loves my ass. He screams at the height of his carnal love. I can feel the head of his cock swell inside me and release as he came. He filled me up with cum. We fall onto the bed, him on top of me, still inside. It leaked like a melting cream pie.
Minutes tick by. The electricity is still out but the storm has stopped. Andrew untapes me and we change into t-shirts to head to the lake to clean up. I stand in the starlight and pull the t-shirt up over my head and abandon it on the deck. I dive in. The water is warm and inviting, yet cool enough to sooth my sore body. I float on my back and look up at the stars peeking out between the clouds. Andrew swims laps around me like a shark. What a perfect night for the Lady in Red.
I clean up the pots by the fire so the raccoons don’t have their own rock & roll party tonight.
We towel dry our hair and bodies and slip into the soft comfort of the bed. I sigh contentedly. Our last night of in Muskoka, but what a wonderful weekend filled with enough memories to last a lifetime. I curl up on my side and Andrew spoons me. We are both asleep in minutes, each dreaming the same dream.
In love & bondage,
P.S. This post is dedicated to Terri!
*Name(s) changed to protect the guilty and the innocent!
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© Lisa Jobson 2017