Meeting Old Friends at the Baroness

Blonde

I suddenly realize that I had dozed off, my head dangling on a side, despite the iron collar that sticks my neck to the wall.

It is the hand that plays with my cock that wakes me up, and then I hear the voices that come from a distant past, but still familiar.

I open my eyes, and it’s easy to recognize them, even if thirty years have passed.

If I could wipe age like dust, below there still would be the eighteen years old girls I remember from high school.

Alessandra looks at me, with her blue, doll-like eyes.

It’s her who is stroking gently my penis.

I remember when I saw her sunbathing, thirty years ago, on the terrace of the condominium she lived.

I didn’t forget the tiny bikini she wore, the top under which her small breasts swell.

Maybe she would have let me kiss her, but I was too shy then, and all I could do was fantasizing about her, closed in the bathroom.

“Who thought we would meet in this situation…” she says, and I have no answer for that.

“It’s a long time, Alessandra…and Gabriella…”

It is from the morning that I am suspended to the wall in a corridor of the Mistress’ mansion, wearing an open shirt and unzipped trousers, that leave my sex exposed, at reach for anyone who would like to feel it.

Ropes secure my spread thighs and arms to hooks on the wall, and the steel collar keeps my head high.

Donna Anna mentioned that I would receive unexpected visits, and surely such are these two elegant and jeweled ladies coming from my past.

She has planned everything, so a plug seals my ass, preventing me from shitting, hence leaving me in no need of maintenance from that side.

Now I have to pee, and as I did before, I utter shamelessly:” I need to pee!”

Alessandra looks at Gabriella, she doesn’t know if she has to be shocked or laugh, but when she sees her friend laugh, she joins in.

“Can’t you wait?” asks Gabriella amused, with her contralto, bourgeois voice.

Both of them have a timeless grace, but while Alessandra has kept intact the freshness of youth, on the opposite, it seems görükle escort that the composure Gabriella had in high school announced the late blossoming of her severe beauty.

My penis had become hard while Alessandra held it, firmly, in her fist.

Now it’s Gabriella’s turn to caress it, like a little puppy wagging his tail, excited but eager to please.

“I would like to see you cum…” she whispers, looking at me straight in the eyes, and then she exchanges another smile with her friend.

It would be the third time throughout the day.

First it was Miss Vincenza, then a servant that was passing by, and seized the chance, like a waitress stealing a chicken thigh prepared for somebody else.

I am so tired, I am not sure I have the energy to make Gabriella happy; and even if I cum, I wonder how much seed I will produce.

“Are you enjoying it?” asks Alessandra, reading the small, ironic smile that contracts my lips.

“Are you happy we want you to ejaculate for us?”

Well, actually I had thought of my vanity, of my desire to impress them with an abundant, thick flow of semen, able to overflow their open palm.

“Yes, I am…” I simply answer because that’s the simple truth.

“Aren’t you going to pee in our hands?” enquires the brunette Gabriella, with a severe, motherly look.

I am so tired, maybe I would mix the impulse of cumming and peeing…what would happen if I peed in their hands, apart of the humiliation of being proven once more a small, incontinent child?

Will they take me down and whip me, or there are other punishments already foreseen by my wise caretakers?

“Let me cum for you…” I say, willing to please them, it’s the least I can do for two schoolmates that took the trouble to come to visit me.

They take turns, stroking the cock, holding and squeezing the balls.

They retract the foreskin, play with the little cut on the tip.

Their hands are so skillful, that I wonder how they learned.

I wonder if there has been a sequence of boyfriends, of course, the heykel escort husbands, and maybe some lovers through which they have perfected the art of masturbation, of owning a cock.

“You have a nice cock – says Gabriella.

“Thank you ” I reply.

“No wonder wants to exhibit it…” she adds, smiling.

Yes, that’s what I am: a living sculpture that my owner put on display, with whom her guests can interact in an unexpected way.

After a while, they forget about me and they start talking about friends, about shops, about their sons and daughters.

Now and then they look at me and my cock, which they continue stroking, like a piece of meat of the oven, which they are carefully baking.

Their casual attitude doesn’t kill my excitement, on the contrary, not being at the center of the attention makes me more comfortable and makes it easier to try to channel all the remaking energy so that I can perform my task, to the best of my ability.

I feel the impulse coming through, and they seem to have understood it too, so they stop chatting and concentrate on me, looking at the cock, waiting for the seed to erupt from the tip.

“Aaah…” with a whisper I finally cum, and their hands receive my product.

The first is of Alessandra, and then Gabriella stroke the shaft, to be sure that I am left dry.

“How many times it happened already, Lillo?”

“It’s the third…”

“The sperm is so transparent and fluid…almost odorless…”

Is that a good thing? Would they prefer a thicker, heavily scented fluid?

“Lick my hand!” orders Gabriella “I heard you like to be fed with it…”

There was a time where even the idea disgusted me, it seemed a deeply unnatural act, to accept back what my body had decided to release; slowly had become a due act, to clean up the mess produced by my horny cock, always ready to spill.

I lick her hand clean, and then it is Alessandra’s turn to insert her finger, one by one, into my mouth; I suck them carefully and slowly.

“Maybe we don’t need to wait thirty bursa otele gelen escort years to meet again…” says Gabriella, caressing the limp cock with one, with the other pinching my hard, sensitive nipple.

“Don’t worry, this will remain our secret!” adds Alessandra, turning while they were leaving the room, and winking at me.

I am alone, left with my urge to pee.

However, shortly after the two ladies have left, a new visitor arrives.

It is a small-framed girl, completely naked, with long hair that arrived below her shoulder blades. Only her hard nipples protrude from her flat chest.

A thick cloud of reddish-brown hair hides her labia.

She looks at me with absent eyes, and then takes my penis in her mouth, without saying a word.

I look at her, from my point of view I can only see the mass of her brown hair and below them, in a twist of perspective, her small, boy-like ass, white with yellowish shades, like fresh goat cheese.

My tired cock rests in her mouth, and I wonder if she wants her tribute too, but I have nothing more to give, even if she seems so patient, peacefully accepting my lifeless sex in her moist cavity, ready to wait.

Her mouth is so small, I imagine that if I get hard, I might block her throat, and kill her…the thought excites me, unwillingly, and only tiredness makes me resist against this disturbing idea; she raises her eyes and looks at me, and that stillness can be ready in any way, and I read a silent accusation which no justification can divert.

At this point, without warning, my pee starts to flow in her mouth.

First I try to resist, but I can’t stop the stream, and her lips are sealed around my cock.

Then I realize she is not there for my sperm, but my urine, and I let go.

I feel the pee will quickly fill her mouth and overflow, but she takes it well, and let it through the throat, inside her.

The more I pee, the more she seems willing to take, it’s like my yellow fluid is some sort of gasoline for her, from which she draws her energy.

It’s as if all these women know how to take all I have to give and are not afraid to take it, down to the last drop.

Once again I am left dry, she licks her lips, like a satisfied cat, and then looks at me, with the faintest smile; then I see her leave, her hair reaching half of her back, just above the waist, that barely curves at her buttocks.

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