Get It On

Pamela, my ‘employee’, obviously derives untold pleasures and benefits from the role she has elected to play in my life.

I have often felt bemused by the dominant/submissive roles played out in most relationships. Usually the male role will submit the female to his will and dominate in every way. I am just honest about it. And I can afford it.

My favourite pastime is sitting and starting into the middle distance, ruminating on how magnificent I am, whilst concocting the next pleasurable experience to indulge in, preferably sexual. This particular day finds me pondering the current colour of Pamela’s knickers.

From where I was sitting I could see the whole of Paula’s extremely fit 170 centimetres of sensuality. I studied Pamela’s shoulder length blond hair. Pamela sported a neat, perfectly pressed, plain white t-shirt and calf-length plain black skirt. What about the colour of those panties, though? Pamela appears to be washing my socks and underpants in the sink. This makes me briefly question why we own a washing machine? This fleeting thought doesn’t trouble me for too long though.

Humming tunelessly I slowly saunter into the kitchen and stand behind Pamela. For a long 2 minutes I stand motionless behind Pamela, not quite touching her, aimlessly humming. This seemingly innocent muttering has a twofold purpose. I don’t want to startle Pamela when touch becomes the inevitable next move. I want to try and prolong the anticipation of eventual contact.

The wait eventually ends. Never being one for overt subtlety, I move slightly forward, simultaneously caressing my erect penis against the cheeks of Pamela’s ass, pinning her to the kitchen workstation. At the same time I knead Paula’s breasts, teasing her semi-erect nipples through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. The Snatched breath of either shock, pleasure or pain were the only sounds to emanate from Pamela. To be honest, I didn’t really care which they were.

I quickly step things up as we both knew I would. Off came Pamela’s t-shirt. Keeping Pamela pinned to the cupboards, I squeeze a little harder and rub faster. Easing the pressure a little with my groin, I slip my hand down the front of Pamela’s skirt and gently cup Pamela’s own groin. To my immense satisfaction she was very, very wet. I Insert fingers and locate Pamela’s own erect spot. I begin to masturbate Pamela gently at first, but I increased the tempo and ferocity as Pamela’s screams increase. I sense I am attending to Pamela’s needs a little too much when I become aware of the small pool gathering at my feet.

I reach overhead and locate the cupboard that holds the lube, with my left hand. With my right hand I attempt to remove Pamela’s panties (still no clue as to the colour). The combination of how soaked they are, and how wet her legs now are, hampers my ability to remove them completely. My best efforts only get them half way down.

Pamela has a few moments of respite as I pull back the foreskin of my erect knob to don a condom and liberally lube my still, pulsating, rock-hard cock. I use the other half of the tube of lube to coat the entrance and inside of Pamela’s anus.

The familiar game starts, to which we both know the rules. I just simply place the tip of my penis against the entrance to Paula’s back passage. Minutes pass before I apply any gentle forward pressure merely inserting the tip. Little by little I gradually manage to get my cock all the way in. Then I stop again. My patience and ability to hold back surprises even me. I Take a deep breath and inhaling the perfumed smell of Pamela’s clean hair. At the same time I grasp Pamela’s tits and flick her erect nipples, I then begin to slowly pump. I increase the intensity, as the noise of cupboards banging together highlight the violence of what is taking place. Pamela is literally being fucked up the ass, hard. My mind begins to wander and mentally sift through Pamela’s lingerie wardrobe. Blue? - maybe. Orange? Red? White? Black? What was the color of those slightly soiled panties, at the moment halfway down Pamela’s legs? MY mind bounces back to the task in hand and the steady pounding I am giving Paula. My usual gradual crescendo and build up doesn’t materialize this time. All of a sudden I find myself filling my condom with spasm after spasm of my ejaculated sperm. Not my usual ending, but extremely satisfactory nonetheless.

Pamela heads for the shower, and I head back to the sofa to stare into space and worry some more about the color of those panties.