bruises and bewbies

We met for ice cream on Sunday night. Our favorite place is closing soon for the season and He invited me down for what might be our last two scoops until next year.

It was chilly. It’s 49 as I write this; I’m guessing it was in the low 50’s and falling fast as the sun set–and we were doubly chilled coz, you know, ice cream.

I suggested we move to my car (He is super fastidious and doesn’t like food in His car. Me? With kiddo’s? hahahahahaha…don’t be redunculous!

We sat there, much warmer out of the wind. And then He began. Pinching. Hair pulling. Trying to pop my ice cream on my nose. He made me giggle–and whimper. Oh ouch my arms! He pinches like a fucking lobster.

And He’s so fucking funny about it. His eyes heat up, His hands dart out, and then He’s frigging tickling me. Remember I wrote about those fucking tickles just yesterday? Gods, I laugh and squirm…

Finally we finish our cones, and He pulls me down across His lap with a fierce tug on my ponytail. And while there, slides His hands into my vee-necked shirt, pinching and pulling on my tits. Finding my nipples, He rolls them. Tugs them. Twists them. Pinches them.

I’m squirming, moaning, whimpering…and then crash into orgasm. Geezus!

He pushes me up, then attacks my arm and thigh again, pinching, pinching. His eyes shift to my tits.


I’m across the two seats again, head in His lap. I struggle, and try to pinch HIS nipples…He catches my hand, secures it, and  proceeds to work my tits again. I’m gasping and breathing hard…it hurts a lot…but I’m also so turned on I’m about to explode…and He stops.

Just before I cum.

“Get up, slut.” And He pushes me upright. I slump against the door, panting.

“I was so close…” I moan.

“I know,” He says, and laughs.

There is more  horseplay, more pinching, more tit mauling, and I cum again from His hands on my tits. (And today of all days I wore black all stained. Tsk.)

I’m bruised, and tired.

Filled with ice cream–and Him.

I’d say I’m sated, but that would be a lie…I’m never really sated with Him. I always want more.

I think He likes that.


13 thoughts on “bruises and bewbies

    1. He had the best time. I could tell from some of His texts afterwards. And He says “Purple is my *favorite* color…on you.”



    1. it *was* perfect…and hoping we can do it again this weekend…coz you know, I’m not 100 per cent bruised. I might have to sit in the passenger seat this time to even things up…lol…


  1. What a wonderful date. 🙂
    We went out to dinner after the festival and the Patriots were playing the Falcons. Wolf looks at me and says… No watching the football game unless you cheer for the Falcons. There were big TV’s and no avoiding it… so, I cheered for the Falcons. 🙂 And the Patriots won. [for those who don’t understand, I’m a bit of a fb jinx. If I cheer for or watch a team, they lose. My mom appreciates that I don’t want the Broncos.]

    1. Thank you for not watching the game. 🙂
      We had a wonderful date…I’m still so bruised and from just an hour in the car with Him. Gotta love when the beast comes out to play. 🙂


      1. in this case? I’m glad you didn’t know which team was which even though it pains me to write that. (kidding, for real!)


  2. LOL! I asked Wolf, who laughed and told me who was who. I just don’t watch sports. I have other things to do. 🙂 Plus, my mom, the Bronco Fan, keeps me posted on them.

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