Emanuel J. - The Mistresses Next Door - Episode 1

For the first time, he saw her room, which was quite small. In front of the window stood a small table with a laptop on it, around which books and manuscript pages were piled. Some plants stood on the windowsill and hardly enough space was left for a narrow bed and a high cupboard. Outside, the apartment door closed and they could venture back into the hallway where Franziska reported that it was Sebastian (who lived upstairs with Jasmin) and he had borrowed a packet of sugar. She smiled, apparently also thinking of what had happened last time someone brought one of those back. For a moment, Daniel felt the barest twinge of jealousy. But it was surely vanishingly rare to find a man with whom one could do such things. Daniel did not have to worry about competition, in this very special way he was quite unique (if he excluded Sascha).

Still grasped by the cock, he followed Isabel into the common room with his effeminate small steps, and only there did she release him from her clutch. He knelt. Franziska's jeans sat tight around the triangle of her crotch, right in front of his eyes, he noticed that his lips were approaching her as if drawn by a magnet, without having received the order.

She slapped his cheek sharply. "Will you let that go?" But immediately her indignation faded and she smiled at him with understanding. "You'd like to lick a pussy, wouldn't you?" Apparently, she understood men well enough to know that it wasn't necessarily hers, any would suffice.

There was no point in denying something that was obvious. "Yes, my lady. I long for it."

"Well you won't get mine." She looked at Isabel. "Try her."

Isabel looked up in surprise, apparently not expecting it. "With me? Really?" The next moment, however, her reflexive defence began to waver and she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. She sighed hard. "Maybe it's quite nice."

The decision had apparently been made. She sat down in an armchair, called him to her with a wave of her finger and graciously (or perhaps expectantly) opened her thighs for him. The short blue pleated skirt was no barrier, it retreated without resistance, and he pushed the small black thong almost effortlessly to the side with his tongue. Her pussy was clad in woolly dark hair, a mistress need not be shaven like a doll Tenderly, greedily, lustfully he kissed, licked and nibbled on the wet, soft flesh of her pussy. He was so grateful to be able to give her this joy, however fleeting. He felt her hot desire overflowing from between her legs as he licked. Isabel's moaning filled the room and she pushed towards his face with delight. Her hand grabbed him by the hair to press his face even closer to her as she writhed on the armchair. Her thrusts aroused some yearning in him, a longing to scale these heights with her. At least, as far as was possible for a man, who could never experience the quite the depth of the female orgasm, the duration and repetitions, he believed, not even when he wore women's clothes. Nevertheless, it would have been beautiful to join her in her pleasure, but he wasn't allowed to.

Her hand shoved his head back, beatifically she smiled at him as she adjusted the skirt. "Very nice, you've done well. Like a girl. You should be called Daniela." Her gaze wandered to Franziska, who was sitting on the second chair. "I don't know how a girl licks, but I imagine it to be about as tender and sensitive as he does. I can really recommend him."

Was her recommendation accepted? Franziska waved at him and he crawled over to her on his knees. It was harder to get to her in her protective jeans. Well, it was impossible to get to her, because her legs remained crossed, even when he knelt close to her. The tip of her boot slid between his thighs and gently touched his testicles. It was as if angels' tongues caressed him; his cock twitched and his body moved forward onto her boot as though compelled. A moan escaped his lips. Franziska smiled compassionately. "Poor Daniel. You're so eager to come, aren't you?"

"Yes, my lady, it would be beautiful..."

"Then do it! I give you permission."

What? Was she serious? Apparently, yes. The boot remained in his crotch and his penis greedily rubbed against it, straining against the leather from pure arousal, without caring how unworthy it was of this sublime pleasure. At this point, he would have rubbed himself against a table leg or a lamppost, pure instinct unable to hold back in his frenzied sexual response, not caring what object it was directed at. And yet there was nothing more beautiful in this moment than to let his cock slide up and down firmly pressed to the smooth black leather. Debased, he continued to hump her boot, his panties still around his knees, the butt pug still stretching his asshole, allowing himself to let go. His buttocks clenched and he moaned as he thrust his dick against the black leather, exploding with excitement.

The next moment Franziska brought him back to earth: "Look what a mess you've made." Her hand pointed to the milky trickles that crawled thick and dripping down her boot. "Get rid of it! And don't let it drip on the floor!"

Get rid of it? How could he do that? But he knew what she meant, he knew exactly what she meant. Yet he was shocked at the thought All lust had disappeared from him, as usual for a man. After a more conventional sexual experience there was some leisurely stroking and then relaxed falling asleep, nothing more. This was not vanilla sex. One of the thick drops was already almost down to the sole, he would regret his idleness in watching it fall. Hesitantly he approached to face her foot, struggling to balance, since he could not support himself with his cuffed hands, and reluctantly he dabbed the whitish slime with the tongue. For the first time in his life he tasted sperm. It wasn't so disgusting at all, salty with a hint of sweetness. Swallowing it was less difficult than expected. Which was a good thing, because he had to dab on the next trickle, which had almost reached the edge With diminishing shyness he licked everything away until no trace of his sperm was left on the damp leather. His mouth felt sticky and as if he couldn't get enough of it, his tongue slipped over salty lips.

Franziska smiled suggestively, as if the boot were erogenous for her. "You really did that neatly. Don't you want to thank me?"

"Yes, my lady, I thank you."

"And for what?"

"For allowing me to climax... and for allowing me to taste it. You are a very good mistress to me."

She told him to get up, to get close to her chair. Her hand reached for his limp penis and suddenly she bent down, enclosed him with her lips and sucked him into her mouth. Once, twice she sucked on him, then she released him again, sank back into the cushion and smiled coyly in a way he had not seen her before. "Somebody had to clean it, too." One could almost have thought that she was finally content, at least she pulled a small key out of a pocket of her jeans and freed him from his handcuffs. It was high time, because he urgently had to go to the toilet.

As they had taught him, he left the door open behind him and knelt down in front of the toilet bowl, watched by both women who had accompanied him to the bathroom. When he straightened up again, he was finally allowed to pull up the string that had clung to his knees all the time with exemplary perseverance, and remove the plug. He washed it off under the tap, then rubbed it dry with a red towel. The women had already thought about where to store it: in the rectangular blue tin can that stood on the microwave. The black tube also found its place in it, then he closed the lid and hoped that no prying eyes would ever peer into it.

The slave was no longer needed today; the slave could go. Both women smiled lovingly at him as he said goodbye, then he peered out attentively and scurried silently through the stairwell moments later, as he had come, but plus a few new experiences. This evening he would probably never forget, so he assumed anyway...