His Gifts

Our time together was –dare I say–bliss-filled. He left me giddy, light-headed, sated, glowing. He left me with many gifts.

I wear His scent upon my skin, an olfactory memory of His body lying atop mine, pinning me to the bed.  His fingers probed my pussy, circled my clit, over and over, until I arched and spurted upon my bed.

My hair, a tangled mess, is the gift of His hands as He pulled it up, smoothing it atop my head and into a rough ponytail, holding my head firmly, bobbing my mouth up and down His cock.

Around my lips, a dried ring of semen is a sexual lipstick. A touch of my tongue reminds me that He possessed my mouth, until I drained Him, and drank of His nectar. Sweet and salty, my favorite combination of flavors, all spurting from His cock, my reward for a job well done. We each took a gift from that experience. 🙂

Upon my breasts, bruises from Him reminding me to focus on the task at hand as I sucked Him, giggling. He told little jokes to break my concentration, then grasped and pinched my nipples, my tits as I laughed around His shaft.

Laughter and cocks don’t mix, nilla, He said, then, focus, slut. Cock, not giggles if you please.

And then of course, He made another joke…but His hands on my tits, tight as a vise, make me work hard to press into that pain to get His cock into my mouth again. Predicament bondage at its best; press into the grip of His hands ever harder, in order to get close enough to suck His cock.

My knees remind me, gently sore, of my kneeling between His strong thighs as His penis brushed my lips. Of moving around to retrieve Him when He would move to make me work for it.  My body, achy in many small places are all little gifts that flash me back to each  experience that we had together.

My pussy aches, a dull and sated throb, from His hands, His fingers. Rubbing and teasing, thrusting and filling, slapping. The firm, hard, implacable blows fell after every orgasm–and there were a lot of orgasms.

For now, I am tired and this is all I can say of of time together this weekend–there may be more as my mind settles, and I’m not floating 5 feet above the floor. For now there will be my bed, and the contemplation of all that happened between us this evening.

Swollen, tired, lightly bruised, I am deeply satisfied to have spent this  Saturday evening with Master. Having Him here, in my home, in my bed, filling my room with His presence–and memories to carry me through until next time, well, it is the best gift of all.