Flamingos Ch. 12

We were exclusive for the first two months of our year and a day.
It was interesting. We displayed the flamingo prominently and hosted a group at the next RV park. We were getting pretty good at knowing each other's likes and we harmonized pretty damn well. Others would join in. My Goddess drew a crowd, and plenty of lust-filled looks, and I did okay myself. In the end, though, it was fun to turn down offers and go to bed with each other.
And it wasn't like it got boring or anything. She enjoyed pretty much anything I could dream up.
Our first titty fuck, for example, was her idea. One of the Flamingo group had some wonderfully potent pot, and we were beyond high into full-on stoned. We had taken our time, as we always did, undressing each other, playing with each other. Tickling and squeezing and kissing and licking and touching.
She stood, said "stay," and disappeared into the bathroom. I still enjoyed watching her walk away, that magnificent ass and hips putting on their own wonderful show.
I had another drink of my beer, enjoying Tom Waits on the stereo, wondering if I could pull off "Romeo is Bleeding."
"Come in My Lord," I heard from the bedroom.
I chuckled to myself, stopped in the bathroom, peed, washed my hands, brushed my teeth, and then went into the bedroom.
She still had her panties on as she lay flat on her back, holding her breasts together, using her thumb and forefinger to milk herself. Her milk was running between her breasts where she held them together.
"You made me wait," she said, "but that is something for another day."
"Goddess," I started but she put her finger to her lips to shush me.
"I NEED your gift, baby," she said, "right here," she squeezed those magnificent tits together and used her thumb and forefinger on each nipple, coaxing thin multiple streams of milk.
I was erect, and climbed up to sit on her belly, the shelf of her belly roll almost like a backrest.
"And you know what I need," I said.
She put on her best pout.
"Please?" she asked with a little giggle in her voice.
"Oh no," I said, understanding our roles by now, "you have to do much better than that."
And the problem was, as she had predicted, we knew each other too well. It was almost scripted now.
"Please, please, baby," and there was a real need in her voice.
I bent forward, kissing where she was working her nipples, tasting her milk, warm and sweet and rich.
"Do better, Goddess," I breathed into her ear.
"Please, PLEASE," she was whining now and I could feel her hips rocking under my butt.
"Better," I said, nipping at her earlobe.
"Oh God, baby, honey, pleeeeeeeeeeeease," she said.
"Work those titties, Goddess," I said.
Her hips were bucking now, making it hard for me to stay where I was, and her fingers were digging into the softness of her breasts hard enough that I could see skin squeeze out between them.
Her milk was flowing, warm and creamy, lubricating my cock.
"BABY," she sort of moan/cried, "PLEASE."
"Getting close now," I said, smiling, "come on."
She was sweating badly now, beads forming on her forehead and running down the sides of her face to wet her hair. Her mouth was open and she was breathing in sharp little gasps. Her nose was running leaving shiny trails down her cheeks. When her head suddenly whipped back and forth snot went flying.
But her hands and arms kept Çanakkale Escort going, her tits almost vibrating around my cock.
I was struggling with control by now. I wanted it to last for her, for both of us, but I'm only human.
When I came it was absolutely spectacular. The hot jet of my semen hosed her down. Her face looked like I had poured about a quart of yogurt on it. Her hair was soaked. Her mouth was open and a second pump laid a white sticky line from her forehead across her nose and mouth finally making a puddle under her chin. The third and fourth pumps were more like dribbles, and the ache in my balls and deep in my belly testified that I was completely empty. A final fifth spasm, almost a cramp somewhere low in my belly made me cry out and what came out onto her chin was thin and watery.
For Ashley, my Goddess's body was rigid. She wasn't breathing. I was starting to panic when she suddenly gasped a deep, shuddering, intake of breath.
I felt her slowly relax as her eyes opened and met mine.
"Do I please you, my Lord?" she asked.
She had a dreamy look in her eyes, kind of unfocused, and as her fingers slowly relaxed I could see little matching fingertip-sized bruises already forming.
I kissed her. A slick kiss, lips sliding, tasting semen and snot and saliva. A good kiss.
"You please me, Goddess," I said.
She sighed, closed her eyes, and started snoring.
I latched onto her tit, enjoying her creamy milk, and followed her into dreamland.
I slept the sleep of the exhausted.
The bed was empty when I woke up.
I went into the bathroom, peed, rinsed my mouth with Listerine, and went in search of my Goddess.
It wasn't a hard search.
She looked like she was ready for a date. Her hair and makeup were perfect. She had on a clean T-shirt, this one advertising a campground I didn't remember ever visiting. She had exchanged blue denim jeans for white denim jeans. Her socks and tennis shoes were so clean and white that they almost glowed.
She was sitting in one of our folding chairs, this one with no arms, in the middle of the front room and one of those music stations was playing softly through the television speakers.
She smiled as I came into the room, a bright happy smile, and crooked her finger, summoning me.
I went to her without hesitation.
"You made me wait," she said, her voice toneless.
I smiled and said nothing.
"You think that's funny?" she asked, and I felt the first twinge of understanding that something was different this morning.
"I think I made you happy," I said, smiling.
"You did," she said, still unsmiling, "but you also made me wait."
I couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"Give me your hand," she said.
I was standing at the right of her chair and she held her left hand up so I reached across her for it.
Which, as she had planned, put me in an awkward position and when she grabbed my hand and pulled, not jerking but just pulling with steady pressure, I quickly reached the tipping point and had no choice but to lay across her lap.
And it hit me. I was in the classic over-the-knee spanking position.
And I sprang erect.
She moved quickly, her left hand planted between my shoulder blades and her right beginning to caress my ass.
"Lessons must be taught, my love," she said, those caresses drawing goosebumps across my ass and the Çanakkale Escort Bayan tops of my thighs.
I could have escaped. Hell, all of those years in a karate dojo or a boxing gym weren't for nothing. But I didn't really want to particularly. I was frightened on some level, but I was excited too. Hell, I was sexually aroused and my erection was bone hard.
Her hand was so light on my ass, so gentle.
But when she lifted it I had no chance of stopping the automatic clenching of my muscles in an attempt to protect myself.
What happened was anticlimactic. What she did could hardly be called a pat. It was more like she just laid her hand on the roundness where she had been caressing.
I shuddered.
"Lessons must be taught," she said again, "and that is why God put so many nerve endings in the human ass."
She was caressing again, gently, dare I say lovingly.
"Such a good boy," she said as she raised her hand again.
I clenched again.
She waited again.
I relaxed and there was the same thing, her hand came down, as near as I could tell, in exactly the same place. Still far short of a slap but slightly harder than the first one.
I really have no idea how long the spanking lasted. She would caress and tell me I was a good boy and then lift her hand and I would clench and she would wait and then the next stroke would fall, exactly the same spot, each stroke just a tiny bit harder than the previous one. I realized, on some deep level, that she was claiming me, but I had no desire to stop her.
She counted each stroke.
By fifteen they were stinging and by twenty-five, they were hurting.
I told myself I wouldn't cry but at forty my resolve failed. And the thing is, it felt good to give up my control.
By sixty I was bawling, my legs were kicking, and I could see the puddle of tears and snot and thick mucus-laden saliva that was forming on the floor.
I was crying and begging, "please," whimper, "please," whimper, "please." But the thing is, I couldn't tell you, honestly, if I was begging her to stop or to keep on.
I came at 102.
I've thought about that, a lot, since and the best way I can describe it is this - - My world had been reduced to those two circles on my ass where I was being flayed and burned and electrified with acid poured on and salt rubbed into the open wound. I was in a black cocoon of pain. Nothing else existed. And suddenly a blast of pure white ecstasy replaced the pain.
When I came she stopped giving me the rest between strokes. Instead, she counted quickly, 103, 104, 105 and with each stroke, my body would pump again until the pleasure was replaced with pain again.
It ended, eventually and I laid across her lap, limp as a cat.
"Lesson learned?" she asked.
"Yes," I said without hesitation although I had no idea what lesson it was supposed to have been.
She giggled at that but she didn't spank me anymore.
"Okay," she said, "make some breakfast, please. Teaching is hard work."
I tried to walk normally but my ass was SO sore it was hard. But I went ahead and made a full breakfast. Biscuits from a tube, gravy from a can. But the eggs were gramma's recipe, just a splash of milk, and the sausage frozen.
I made coffee while the sausage was cooking and gave it to her, a small sip at a time, my hand supporting her head while my other hand took the brim of the cup to her lips. Escort Çanakkale She was completely relaxed, making me do all of the work.
And I was proud to tend to her.
I finished feeding her and carefully wiped her lips. Then I cleaned up, washing the dishes, wiping down the counters, and all of the time aware of her eyes on me.
She crooked her finger, beckoning me when I hung up the dish towel and I went to her.
"My feet need some attention, honey," she said.
So I go to my knees and got her tennis shoes and socks off. I love her fat little feet, oddly small for the size of her hips and legs. I caressed and kissed and told them how beautiful they were. I sucked each toe separately. I licked her instep and her arches.
She was moaning her excitement. As I was telling her feet how beautiful they were, kissing them, my eyes not leaving them, caressing them with my cheeks, I saw the small circle of her excitement darken her jeans between her legs.
When I gently pressed them together, the soft fat pads where her arches should be, and laid my erection against them her breath caught.
"Shall I give the mangift to your beautiful feet, Goddess?" I asked.
"Yessssssssssssssssssssssss," she hissed.
As I was there, on my knees, dry humping her feet like a dog on a leg, I realized we had pretty much tried everything.
It was an awkward position and I was straining. The muscles deep in my belly, those core muscles that held me upright were tiring, the muscles in my hips as I thrust were gurning, and the muscles in the backs of my legs, supporting me, had the first twinges of an incipient cramp.
But I didn't want to let my Goddess down, so I kept up, working through the sweat and the pain.
And she was encouraging me, telling me what a good boy I was, telling me to keep it up, moaning softly as she begged for the mangift.
Finally, I came, a weak watery squirt from balls and prostate that were overworked, gasping my release. And the dark spot between her legs spread, telling me I had managed to take her over the top as well.
As I was gasping, my cheek laying against her knees, as I tried to get my breathing back to normal, I felt a gentle bouncing through her body.
When I had my breathing back under control I looked up and saw that she had freed her left breast, lifting her T-shirt and unbuttoning the flap of the nursing bra she wore sometimes.
I crawled up and laid my head in her lap, accepting the nipple she offered.
We lay like that, me nursing, her stroking my hair, for some time before she spoke.
"I think, my Lord," she said, and her formal language made it clear she was being serious, "that if there is an interesting man this evening I'm going to let him take me home."
I had known it was coming of course. We had settled into routines and that was something both of us wanted to avoid so I had known the need for variety was growing.
And still, I couldn't stop the tears that ran down my cheeks.
She brushed tears away and then brushed my hair back from my forehead.
"Oh, don't be silly, baby," she said in her best, soft, soothing voice, "you feel the need too."
I didn't say anything and she smiled down at me, not trying to wipe away where my nose started running.
I nursed, almost desperately, until she giggled and used her finger to break my latch, then freed her other tit and squirmed around to offer it.
I latched on again, intent on drinking my fill from her body, not certain that this wasn't the end of something special.
Finally full I released her nipple, enjoying the way it dribbled onto my cheek a bit.
"It's okay, honey," she said, "your Earth Mother will still be coming home to you."