Page 139 - PENTHOUSE LETTERS 2018 Writer Of The Year Award Jim McCartan

letting the snug-fitting rubber slap noisily
around her wrist, then drawing it right up
to her elbow.
Fully gloved up and at arm’s length,
Claire took hold of my rigid prick. She
squeezed my crown lightly between her
thumb and forefinger, then started to rub
my swollen glans. She didn’t even look
at me, preferring to kiss my mistress,
instead. Meanwhile, Miranda kept
spanking my buns as she and Tammy
continued to hold my arms.
It was a strange situation, because
I was the center of attention, but
there was no sensuality in Claire’s
disinterested jerk-off, the rubber gloves
removing any element of human contact.
I closed my eyes and felt a tingle in my
cockhead as I reveled in my subservient
position. I barely felt Claire’s fingers
stroking my erection, but it was the
delicious aloofness of her touch that
caused the sudden wild throbbing in my
shaft. A massive jet of semen rocketed
out of my come-slit, splattering onto
the floor and making its mark. At once,
Miranda called me a bad girl, spanking
my bottom firmly, which led to another
sticky eruption. This second jet of
come burst out of me as if it had been
propelled from the heart of my being.
“Someone’s got some cleaning up to
do,” Miranda said, releasing her hold on
my body. Tammy did likewise, then the
three women picked up their wineglasses
and headed upstairs to the master
bedroom, leaving me to complete my
domestic duties. It was pleasing work,
making everything look nice for my dear
mistress again, ready for whenever she
returned downstairs.
Always glad to serve Mistress
Miranda, I took real pride in restoring to
its former pristine cleanliness the home
in which my gorgeous wife could make
love to her lesbian girlfriends. It was my
special way of making her happy and,
therefore, making me happy, too—for my
mistress’s joy is my own. Ask any slave—
and he’ll agree!

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