Homecoming

He sat in his chair and waited. His favorite time of the day, when His cunt came home from work. He heard the slam of the car door, her key in the kitchen door, then the clatter as she dropped them into the bowl on the counter.

He pictured her as she was when she left this morning, crisp burgundy business suit, soft black silk shirt beneath,   the small triangle of silk he allowed her on meeting day nestled over her plump, hairless mons.   He knew she was braless,  didn’t even own one anymore, and he smiled to think of  His tits bouncing down the long hallway of her office building as she scurried in for her meeting, a bit late.

He had known  she was going to be late, as he had called her, seduced her over the phone .

“hello cunt” he’d said to her.

“Sir?”

“are my tits happy with all that lovely silk rubbing them when you move?” he asked.

A small, quick indrawn breath, then

“yes, Sir!”  and he pictured her nipples hardening as she replied.

 “Sir? I….i have a meeting to get to in 3 minutes….” she began, stuttering.

“Put your hand inside your jacket and rub My nipples for me”  he ordered, overriding her protest.

“do it NOW.”  He spoke sharply, hearing in her breath that she was going to argue with him, and forestalling her. He could hear rustling over the phone, then her soft sigh, an even quieter moan.

 “Good cunt”  He smiled into the phone.

“Are those wee panties of yours getting damp?”

Another moan, louder now, and a breathy

“yes, Sir, they are. And Your nipples are very, very hard.”

 “look at the time, cunt…you must hang up now and run to your meeting…don’t want to keep the boss waiting,do you?”

He chuckled as he disconnected the phone. That had been a highlight of his morning, arousing his cunt, knowing her scent would waft down the hallway ahead of her, knowing that while she was very, very good at being the professional executive, she was an even better cunt.

Now  he saw her  in the doorway between the hall and the living room, pausing as she looked towards his chair, then, down to the floor as she knew he preferred. He loved to look at her, his lovely slave. Her gorgeous hair twirled up on her head, her suit a bit rumpled now, showing the stress of her day.

“Strip” he ordered, then as an afterthought,

 “slowly, cunt, slowly.”

Her suit jacket, blouse, and skirt lay pooled at her feet. Last to go were the minute panties, the slippery dark hose, the sleek heels. He stopped her with a gesture, then,

“Your hair, cunt, release it for me.”

 Her slender arms raised up, then her hair, a beautiful curtain of silk slicked down her back, over her shoulders, curling around, under and past her tits, a riot of soft curls. He loved those curls, loved the feeling of power as he held those sweet tresses in his large hands, loved knowing he could control her movements as he grasped deep into the back of them, burying his fingers deeply, to rest against her scalp. 

He gestured again, to draw her near, and made his fantasy, their reality.

random musings

I’ve thought several times of changing the name of my blog to Not-s0oo-Vanillamom…but…truth be told, inthe words of Popeye The Sailor Man…I yam what I yam!

I can have these fantasies, spank myself w/a ruler (hoooboy that hurted! even gave myself bruises, yay!) but I’m still a nilla. So if you’re nonvanilla, and you still read my blog even tho…well, thanks for seeing past the title.  For letting me muse and ramble and wonder and pose questions to ya, and dream.

I have a story simmering in my brain. “Hurted” my back lifting my protesting 2 yo a few days ago, and am having to take motrin to be able to move, sigh, so i’m a bit foggy. Once I’m sure of where I want to go w/it, I’ll write it down.

Thanks for comments on my fantasies!  I do appreciate feedback!