You made me laugh. A long, drawn-out evil cackle.
~Ah, yes. The one that goes with your cloak and pointy hat.
Exactly, my pretty.
~I must confess, I rather like the image of you naked except for said hat and robe. And knee-high boots, of course. I think I’d be easily bewitched by you in such an outfit. You wouldn’t have to exert yourself, magic-wise, to have me as your willing slave, that’s for certain. Would you like to be dressed in such garb, and to have me on my knees in front of you, waiting for your next command?
Oh my. I wasn’t expecting that.
~Isn’t that one of the reasons I still have appeal for you? Because I can still catch you off guard once in a while?
There are quite a few reasons you still have appeal. Your ability to make me purr, as you did just now, would be one of them.
~You know that I prefer to make you purr in the flesh.
I know. And I have a confession of my own. Sometimes, I think about you fucking your wife when I masturbate. Either that or a multitude of women pleasuring you at once, while I get to sit back and watch.
~It’s exciting to know that you’ve been thinking of me when you pleasure yourself. A multitude of women pleasuring me? How interesting. Am I bound and at their tender (or not so tender) mercies, or am I pleasuring them by return?
When I think about it, it’s all about your pleasure. But yes, you pleasure them back. It’s just one huge fucking orgy, really.
~You spoil me.
I’d like to spoil myself, right now. I’d love to be sliding myself down your shaft ever so slowly, until I’m wriggling and writhing in your lap with you embedded within me.
~And I’d love to offer myself up to your sweet, wet, succulent cunt, so that you could pleasure yourself on my hard flesh.
I can imagine fucking like that for hours, actually.
~Days would be a good place to start. We wouldn’t want to push ourselves too hard, or be too greedy.
Is your cock hard now?
~It might be.
God, thinking about you with your cock out touching yourself is making me want to touch myself.
~Indulge yourself, then.
What are you thinking about?
~About how wonderful it would be to lick tiny beads of perspiration from your breasts as you slowly rose and fell over my cock.
That sounds delicious. Having my nipples licked sometimes pushes me over the edge.
~You know that I adore your nipples. I want to kiss them chastely, and run the tip of my tongue around them until your areolae glisten, and then draw them into my mouth, suckling on them greedily and insistently.
You’re being wicked, now.
~You think? I didn’t think I was being that bad. I was planning to tell you how I’d shaved myself the other day, and then liberally coated my flesh with Boss body lotion, leaving my balls and my cock soft and smooth. I was going to ask if you would like to smell its scent on my flesh. I thought that might be being wicked. Perhaps I was wrong.
What I would give to be close enough to inhale your scent. The thought is electrifying. To be on my knees in front of you, inhaling you, paying homage to that beautiful cock … that imagery is very much alive in my head right now.
~I want to make long, exquisitely slow love to you.
I think about you doing that more times than I should admit. That’s when I become greedy. I think about you coming … and I want your come everywhere.
On my face, on my back, in my cunt, on my thighs, on my arse, in my arse, in my mouth… Everywhere.
~You always know just what to say to make me burn…