Mommy and I had a fairly relaxing weekend. On Saturday, we took a small road trip so she could pick up her new motorcycle, although we were both too tired at the end of the day to go to a biker bar so she could flirt with other men. However, at one point, as I was between her legs with the Magic Wand, she said she was fantasizing about a large biker bending her over her new bike and fucking her. She elaborated how he would take her roughly in the parking lot. She would wear a skirt, and he would bend her over, lift it up, and start fucking her hard on the motorcycle I bought for her. She also added "too bad you can’t fuck me."
Several times over the weekend we stole time to make Mommy cum to this image. In one session, I was between her legs, fixated on her pussy and how to please it with the Magic Wand. I love her scent, and its very exciting to feel the muscles deep in her legs quiver against the side of my head when she is close to cumming. In another session, I was beside her, rubbing the Magic Wand on her while I sucked on her nipple like I was nursing. What really sent her over the edge was when I reached up, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled back on it. Mommy likes this done to her when she is fucked, and I knew it would perfectly complement the fantasy man she was thinking about. When I did this she shouted her approval, and a few moments later, she came.
I was edged in two different sessions. In the first, she bound my hands and feet and blindfolded me. She took a Smith & Wesson boot knife I bought for her as a present, and ran the tip of the blade over my body. This was very frightening of course, and she told me to remain very still as it scraped over my skin. Then I felt the tip travel around my balls, and then up the length of my hard cock, on the underside where I am most sensitive. It was scary and painful, and I knew that Mommy was really enjoying herself.
She told me to pick a number between one and ten. I chose seven. She then proceeded to bring me to the edge seven times, giving me plenty of opportunity to practice suppressing my orgasm for as long as possible. She would alternate stroking me with the threat of the knife point as it scraped over my body, creating a link in my mind between the two sensations.
The next time she edged me, she began with me on my knees, back arched, and she put a small stainless steel butt plug inside me. Although its very small and short, it is still quite a painful and strange feeling. I gasped as it was pushing past my opening, and then I screamed as it sunk in. Mommy edged me several times, and each time, she would continue stroking several times after I yelled for her to stop, severely testing my ability to withhold my orgasm. On the last one, I yelled out for her to stop, and she kept stroking, and this time she wasn’t stopping. It took everything I had to keep my orgasm at bay while screaming for her to please stop. Finally she stopped: even a fraction of a second more, and I would not have been able to stop myself from cumming. As it was, I still needed some time after the stroking had stopped to keep suppressing the orgasm that my body was begging for. Once again, I could feel my cock full of cum ready to explode, and when I finally succeeded in holding it back and relaxed, the cum that had traveled up my cock dribbled out.
Mommy said "you had an accident." I said "I’m sorry Mommy, but I didn’t cum." She insisted that I had, and I kept insisting that I hadn’t. There was no joy, no release. I had used all my power to stop the one thing my entire body wanted the most.
Sunday morning, it was sunny out, so we decided to go to brunch. The area I live in is new to Mommy, but I know it well, and I enjoy taking her to new places I know she will like. We went to a small but elegant place in the country above a large lake. The food and atmosphere were both excellent, and there was even a Jazz trio performing live in the back. Mommy said it was another perfect date.
As is our custom now, Mommy ordered for me, and the male waiter was visibly uncomfortable with this arrangement, this was obviously very strange to him. I asked Mommy to clarify what I should do, as the waiter kept trying to address me directly, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. She said that I should sit silently with my eyes looking down at the table when the waitstaff are there, but that if they put food in front of me or refill my water, I can say "thank you" because otherwise it would be rude. Mommy mentioned that ordering for me made her feel like she really were my Mommy and I her little child.
And a few times, when Mommy left the table and came back, and I pulled her chair out for her each time, the women at nearby tables would look at us afterward with a look that seemed a mixture of mild surprise and confusion, or perhaps just curiosity. I’ve noticed this happens often. I wonder if they think I am being unusually gentlemanly for how people interact these days. Do they wish their male partners acted more like this? Or do they realize that Mommy is completely in charge of me? Mommy told me that I was a very good boy out that day.
Later in the evening, at home, the skies turned dark and a thunderstorm rolled in and over us, and we stopped what we were doing to listen to the rain fall on the house.