"You Rang, Madam?" Chapter 6

by Julius
Copyright November 2007




Hudson awoke. He lay in the blackness, gazing up, eyes open but unseeing. He heard movement, faint breathing; there was someone in his room. He waited and wondered, hoping it was Madam. She’d never visited him in his bedroom. Somehow their relationship seemed to preclud it.

Surely it wasn’t the coolly distant Marie? The idea intrigued him.

He felt the bed move as the someone pressed against it. The breathing was closer, soft, but there. A hand made its way under the covers and found his cock. The skin of the hand was slippery wet.

His cock responded, how could it not? Curiosity about the ownership of the hand began to wane. It seemed forever since his cock had been played with.

The hand seemed to know what he wanted, how he needed touching. It caressed him, gently, almost lovingly, bringing him to full erection. The grip tightened, slid the length of him, squeezed his cock-head. He groaned and was ‘Shhh’d’ by whoever she was. The fist slid down to the root, tightened, as if to choke him. A cock needs a little aggression, a little rough treatment. Part of Hudson lay back and got ready to enjoy.

He ceased to care who she was. He let himself focus just on his cock and the hand that was stroking it.

The hand stilled, perhaps she sensed his increasing arousal. He took over, thrusting, fucking the curled, squeezing fist. It felt so good, so very good. He heard the hand’s owner breathing louder, was she becoming aroused too? He thrust harder, faster but then the fingers relaxed, opened, leaving him nothing to thrust into.

He stopped, lay still. The fingers were still there but curled loosely around his cock, barely touching him. The words, ‘Don’t stop,’ hung unspoken in his throat. His cock was hot and he wanted more, tighter, faster.

Puzzled, he waited, moving his hips a little, wanting to feel her again.

Then the fist closed back around him and pumped, once, twice. He lay still, dreading that she’d stop again. This time the pressure was less but the hand moved faster. In the total darkness his cock and the hand were everything. His thighs tensed, his buttocks tightened, his breathing ceased as the climax suddenly built. He squirmed, his whole body zeroing in on the sweet friction on his cock.

She stopped! Her hand was gone. He heard his voice saying, “No, don’t stop!”

How had she known the exact moment? His body writhed; he thrust at nothing with his cock, seeking release. He wanted to come, wanted not to … he didn’t, not quite. He lay panting, panting and wanting. He wanted to touch himself, but he didn’t. He wanted the visiting hand back, back on his poor, come-ready cock.

An eternity seemed to pass until at last he felt himself softening. As if she knew, she took him in hand once more and, feeling him diminished, released him. She waited and waited then felt him again. His cock was small, small and soft.

He felt the hand withdraw from under the covers. ‘Don’t let her leave now!’ he begged silently. There was a bubbly, squirting noise, the sound of more lubricant being squeezed into a palm?

The hand came back, cupped over his cock and balls and began a gentle caressing. He felt his cock swell and surge erect again, back he went, to full hardness. The lovely, pumping caressing of his length was renewed. He was in love with the hand. It twisted and rolled and squirmed over the head of his cock, making subtle, clever love to it. Making his balls squirm in their sac, making his groin spasm.

She stilled her hand but kept the nearly-too-tight grip on him and again he began to fuck the lovely thing. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Madam’s cleavage he was fucking, then her mouth, then her wonderful pussy. In the end he simply imagined it was her hand - was it?

Perhaps it was Marie’s hand. Did it matter? No, not so long as it did what it was doing.

The hand was still, just gripping him as he fucked, letting him make his own speed.

Hudson thrust into the fingers until he felt his climax approaching and then he slowed and stopped. Self-teasing, but there was the added fun of fucking a hand other than his own.

Three times he took himself to the brink, three times she let him.

He heard her shift and the other hand joined the first. Now one gripped his cock and the other played with his balls.

Hudson loved it. One hand began stroking his cock again and the fingers of the other began to play behind his balls, pressing and caressing, the intimacy all but unbearable.

He could hear his tormentor breathing loudly now, more deeply, as if she were becoming aroused too. He hoped she’d climb into bed, on top of him and engulf his straining erection.

But that wasn’t her plan it seemed. She gripped hiscock tightly, tight to point of pain and began pumping. This time there was no slowing or stopping. She took him to the brink and over. With an unstoppable suddenness his crotch convulsed and he thrust into the tight fist and came, … and came and came and came.

He heard his desperate breaths, saw the lights on his retinas and sobbed his way through his orgasm. Felt the hot gushes spurt onto his belly.

The hands were gone. A faint silhouette showed in the doorway, Marie or Mistress, he still didn’t know.

Alone again with the cooling wetness of his own ejaculate. The almost bleachy smell of his come.

Tomorrow he’d see both of them and wonder, ’Which?’ Would his visitor betray herself? Marie or Mistress - she had lovely hands. He reached for his shriveled cock and found the slippery wetness he’d made - they'd made.

Hudson drifted into sleep.