I sat down on the couch, making the mistake of sitting all the way back.I sank into the plush, soft cushion, with the skirt, buoyed up by thepetticoats, not wanting to follow. I had to fight the skirt with myhands to maintain some sense of modesty. I finally gained the upperhand by moving forward on the cushion, sitting on the front edge.Having finally gotten comfortable, I waited for Carolyn.She was taking an unusually long time to get ready, but eventually madeher appearance. She strutted into the living room with the attitude ofa teen punk, wearing my clothes and sporting her version of a duck tailhairstyle. She came to stand in front of me with the stance andmannerisms of a teen rebel. Carolyn was looking even more a man than Ilooked a woman. Given the mannerisms she had already displayed, I hadto wonder if she expected me to act like a teenage girl as well. That'sa place I didn't want to go, sort of."Wow, you look great doll. How's 'bout we head over to the malt shopand. And after a few times, she started holding her hand on my head for a second or two as I bottomed out.I was gasping, choking, spluttering. Long streams of slime and goop trailed from my mouth to her hardness, dripping down my front to the floor. After twenty-five she rose, and led me upstairs. I realised the effort was going to occur in discrete sections.In the bedroom, Mistress placed a blindfold on me, and then bent me over a chair. As always she was slow and tender and careful upon first entering me. Adding extra lube, making sure I was OK. Then she started counting as she penetrated me. And, like my practice, she pulled all the way out each twenty strokes. I was moved to face down on the bed. Another twenty. Then another. I was moved face up on the edge of the bed. She held my legs. Another twenty. Some more lube. Another twenty.I lost count, but I assume Mistress didn't. We stopped. Relaxed. Lay together on the bed. I was still blindfolded. We kissed, cuddled, fondled. It was.
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