A Wet Wanton Mess

He had a dream, he told me. He rarely dreams, even more rarely remembers them. But this one was special.

He was playing pool. But when he reached for the pool cue, it was, instead, a wooden tubular rod. “What the fuck” he says in his dream. “how the fuck can I play pool with this…” And he wakes up, thinking he is holding this “rod” in his hands.

“It was a sign. Your thighs, nilla, your sweet little calves, nilla. And your tits. Most certainly your tits will feel the kiss of the wooden cane, nilla, for that was the meaning of that dream.”

We’ve spoken of this and other things.

“Did I show you…no. I couldn’t have. It’s still in the box.”

He pauses and of course I jump into the breach…

“show me what, Master?”

“I didn’t show you the little vibe for your ass? It has 4 speeds.”

There’s a long silence from my end of the phone, before I say carefully, “no, M, you…did not show me that.”

“Oh, I thought I did.”

He’s silent, but I can *feel* the gleeful laughter under the silence. Got me again!

There are other little things like this that he throws into the conversation, so that by the end of it, I’m all twisted and turned on and wet and wanton.

“Good thing I’m wearing panties, Master, or my thighs would be sticking together by now.”

“You can just peel them off your pussy,” he says.

He speaks of mundane things for a awhile, then tells me how hard he’s going to spank my ass, making me squirm again. And how he’ll attack my pussy–when he knows how much it hurts that I’m raw with cumming and a bit dry…and then he’ll spank my cunt and voila! Just like that I’ll be wet again.

Because you’re a greedy wanton slut, nil-la, he says, in that way he does that just makes me hummmm.

Tomorrow. It just can’t come soon enough.