Last Summer Days

I let him thrust half a dozen times before my legs grabbed him. He squeaked! I bear hugged him, trapping his arms, as my legs clamped hard. I locked my legs and then I was in control. We moved to my pace, my direction. Greg’s smile grew as I milked him dry. He slumped across my body as he came into me. I exerted my muscle control to the limit as I rolled us over still clutching him inside me. His eyes opened wide as my lips covered his. His erection soon returned but I just held him still as I felt it grow inside me. He tried to buck his hips. I squashed his movement, pulling him deeper. “Wait!” I ordered. “I’m the boss.” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. I kept him still for about ten minutes. Then I squeezed my muscles around his expectant tool. I squeezed my arms, my legs and my vaginal muscles simultaneously and rhythmically until he was forced to ejaculate by the strength of my orgasms. The sense of controlling him was so erotic that I reached heights of pleasure that I hadn’t had. I was actually excited. It didn’t sound like Chas was thinking we’d make it a regular part of our schedule and I must admit all of the mystery surrounding our friend’s new social focus was making my imagination run wild and I was excited to find out what it was all about. When the weekend came, we flew out (no one drove these days, it was a relatively short helicopter ride from Manhattan), arriving Friday right around dusk. It was beautiful. Torches lit the grounds and when we landed and got inside, there were candelabras lit throughout the house. We were shown to our suite and set about getting dressed for dinner. Well, I was blown away. Gatsby couldn’t have put on anything more alluring or grand and the evening was absolutely fantastic. Yes, our friends were now into drugs where Chas and I just weren’t, there was also a lot more cross-couple flirtation than I’d remembered but it seemed innocent enough and I reminded myself that it was a big world out there with a lot of ways to.
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