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The Master's Little Mess - An Age-Play Novelette
by R. Greco

Category: Erotica/Fetish Erotica
Description: Continuing the story of Kay and her semi-sometimes master Jon...Jon comes for a visit and things actually switch between the usual bad little girl and her dominant man, at least switch for a little bit. The couple takes in the sights and sound of San Francisco and settles in to domesticity that both Kay and Jon fear, and secretly ache for as Kay feels her sensibilities all but completely budding for this man who has captured her hearts, loins and imagination.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler,
eBookwise Release Date: February 2012

eBookeBook

1 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [47 KB]
Words: 10230
Reading time: 29-40 min.


CHAPTER 1

The couple was snuggled so close even the rain seemed to avoid trying to light on them. Somewhere in the arms pushed together and the sides of chests rubbing, even the occasional click of hip-to-hip, was the place where he started and she began, but as with their lovemaking the night before, the tall man and the wide woman were holding fast up the busy student filled street.

Jon had been out here plenty but he had never been to Berkley. I had gone to school here for six months, I lived only an hour away now (depending on traffic of course) so the second day of his visit we decided to take my SUV and make our way down; that it was a drizzly late afternoon made the adventure even more romantic; that Jon and I had literally spent the first day of his arrival in bed fucking until we were sore, made this trip a much needed respite.

After remarking on and marveling over the fact that the Rte. 80 Jon steered my car onto when leaving my house was the very same Rte. 80 that ended not more than a half hour from his, we fiddled with the FM and caught up on all manner of mundane life that had passed us by since the month seeing each other. We didn't talk sex, we didn't talk dominance or submission (nor had we delved into anything kinky the night before), we were simply two friends catching up. Ironic as it was that I had been through many heated phone calls with this guy being his little girl, toy and pet, now that he was here we had enjoyed a rather vanilla night of sex ... good solid Roggering though it had been.

I could remember Lisa telling me pointedly that when I went to NYC to avoid Greenwich Village as it was nothing more than another Haight and another Berkley, and she had been right. The very last place Jon had taken me was for a spin was down those twisty small streets near NYU and though I found the place fascinating, seeing places like Café Wha and Washington Square, still I felt we had our very own version of student-fueled bohemia right here. I was proud to show Jon the area, happy and warm snuggled close to him and a bit worried what exactly would happen to me when he left after the weekend.

"Um, vinyl," Jon squealed as we came upon Amoeba records. I pulled his arm a bit.

"Rasputin is on the next corner."

"Better?"

"Kinda, yeah, more the stuff you like, I think."

So they walked to the next drizzly corner, her big hat sluicing rain off it, he in and out of awning edges, yet still peppered with drops into his thick dark locks. She liked the warmth of his body as much as his childlike enthusiasm for things like the fact that the same nationwide road that ended at his door began at hers and that he still searched for records.

As we made the next corner and I released Jon to the brightly lit store I stole both a look at his ass as well as letting go the fantasy of looking from the outside in at us. I did do that at times, like I knew we all did. Seeing ourselves separate from ourselves, nothing as crazy as like me speaking about Kay/me in the third person, still at times I would regard myself as a person in a film I was watching or novel I was reading. I hadn't really done any of that over the phone with Jon but in NYC and here now I seemed to revel in both being present with the guy as well as considering us as a cute couple. I was simply romanticizing us being here as Jon almost skipped ahead of me, pulling my hand softly to the stairway leading down to the rock records. Feeling a lurch of more than just libido I stepped to this guy who always deferred to me, was always considerate to where I was when with him, would always wait for me before he descended a staircase or moved into a store doorway.

Jon and I certainly have different musical tastes so as he made his way into some classic rock of the seventies I found some big band stuff from the early sixties. Rasputin was big, bigger then I had even remembered from fifteen years ago, a reverse of what I usually find from places of my youth. It was good to be back here though, fun to be showing this particular man the area but I really didn't want to spend a lot of time in a record store in this college town when Jon and I had more sex to get to, or at least he had my ass to spank.

What I had planned was a nice overnight in San Francisco. Jon had been in the city plenty before, but I had a friend who owned a seven-room hotel in the city, a very romantic slightly gothic place and I wanted to spend the night there. Not that another night of deep plowing wouldn't do this girl good, when I had booked the Red Style Time House I had been hopeful that the surroundings might prompt Jon's more dominant side. I had made the reservations when he solidified his visit and I was by no means trying to stage a scenario; first and foremost I thought the 'Red', as it was affectionately known, was simply delicious. But seeing that Jon had yet to even pat my ass nor had we spoken of anything kinky I was more than chomping at the bit to get him to that little brass and velvet hotel to see if we could start would we both knew was going to happen.

I did also think, as I very much did when thinking about Jon, that his avoidance of anything kinky, the doing or saying of it, was deliberate. The guy was crafty to a fault. He could simply be teasing me.

Coddling my doubts I didn't even hear him sidle up to me until I felt his breath on my neck and his hand tickle cross my ass.

"Got a really good Brain Salad in near mint," he said as I instantly got wet and pushed my ass back into his hand. Had the ELP album or me got him going, I suddenly wondered.

I also suddenly didn't care.

"You feel like you want to get out of here," he said rubbing his hand harder across my warming ass.

Standing as he was the only thing the pierced patrons or spirited, yet still slightly indifferent sale's help could see was some long haired guy standing close behind some wide hipped girl. Sure you could tell there was a little groping going on, but who cared really ... especially in Berkley of all fucking places.

"I wonder if we can..."

The breath caught in my throat as much from Jon pulling at the loose black skirt I was wearing as from his unfinished inquiry. I instinctively moved to a deeper corner of the big basement room and let him press up against my ass even harder. We more or less rolled to near the beginning of the Bossa nova section and I looked behind me as Jon pointed his chin in my shoulder. I stretched mine round to kiss him as he began to lift the folds of my skirt up my thighs.

I could feel Jon's erection poke into me despite his thick jeans and the fact I had a bunch of skirt bunched up on my ass between us.

"This is new, something public?" I sighed as he rubbed.

"I just saw your ass and thought..."

He had moved to kiss the back of my neck and I nearly lost my footing. Jon had yet to kiss the back of my neck and the very last thing he would suggest when we had our phone sex sessions was something so deeply romantic and yet so God-awful hot. Finding something new this man had yet to do to me and him doing it right then, I began to feel my pussy thump and my clit tingle.

"How much of this could we expose, ya think?"

I wasn't about to guess seeing as he had the back of me exposed about up to the center of the back of my thighs!

Bent as she was with the handsome man behind her, her hands splayed across the papery brittle tops of ancient used album covers, some cloying music she knew she should recognize but had no care she didn't, the short beauty undulated ever so slightly as the man lifted her skirt as high as he could manage, just exposing the bottom of her white bottom to his crotch. Feeling the dew tickle of a thick milky line of juice flooding her cunt, she pressed her ass back even harder and began to climax right there as her man stayed where he was, never once adjusted his footing, simply kissing her over and over again across a tiny rectangle of space on her neck.

That she was bare under her skirt suited them both, that she had known to be, hoped he would not only notice but take advantage of her being so she had expected, that she now felt almost a slight disappointment to have gone sans panties so he could make such an easy time of his molesting her shocked her slightly. Even then as she began to climax in her mist stunted pissing of ways, even as she lie back into and away from his caress and the tip of his middle finger tracing tentatively between the crack of her ass, she wondered why she was giving in and what would have happened if she spun, ripped down the back of her skirt and left him to the musty basement and his unbidden erection.

And she wondered where his nescient idea of fight was coming from.


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