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Slave Husband auctioned off to mystery celebrity.

Of course Homer slept through it.

Another buzz. Another flood. Now my nipples were getting involved. High beams in a thin T-shirt. A dad sitting across the room was starting to take an unhealthy interest in me. He kept trying to catch my eye. He wasn't bad looking, but no man I had ever met compared to my master. Even if this dad was better than average, well, I had stopped looking. As he mustered his courage to chat me up, I killed two birds with one stone (I drowned them, actually), and looked at the messages.

I was semi-praying, "Please let it be about the weather, please..." I read the first message.

M: [thinking about licking your pussy]

Dammit! Not about the weather.

I had to remind myself that nobody else in the waiting room had heard the soft Southern accent of his voice. That was only in my head. Nobody had any idea about the explosion that just took place low in my belly.

The second message was worse.

M: [looking at those pictures of your breasts. they are amazing. i will suck them one day]

As long as I had breath in my body, I intended to work on making that happen. But, just then I needed to avoid hyperventilating.

A soft moan escaped my lips. Nobody appeared to have heard it.

I took a small sip from my water bottle.

Deep breaths. Slooooow, deeeeep breaths. I glanced up. Big mistake. The dad had finally found his balls and was walking over to "look for a magazine" on the rack beside me. Oddly enough, he couldn't take his eyes off my rack. He tripped over the table in the middle of the room and nearly went down. That took the wind out of his sails. Especially since several of the other moms had noticed where his attention was focused. A couple shook their heads in sympathy with me. One subtly flipped him off when he wasn't looking. It may or may not have been me. He went back to his seat.

The third message.

M: [you moaned at that last message...i know you did]

How did he do that? He always seem to know what I was thinking, what I was feeling. Every time I moaned. Every time I touched myself while talking to him, he knew. He just knew.

I texted back.

S: [can't really play right now, master. I'm at the orthodontist with my son]

This was purely wishful thinking on my part. I knew there was no way he would let this opportunity pass.


M: [Try not to think about my fingers on your nipples...gently squeezing them as I kiss your neck]

Of course that's all I could think about now. His strong hands cupping my breasts, fingertips circling around my nipples, then pouncing, cat like, on his prey. My tender, sensitive nipples.

M: [are you in the back, or in the waiting room? Are you sitting down?]

I had to reply. He had me. He knew my weakness.

S: [yes. I'm sitting on a couch in the waiting room]

Did I mention that I'm orgasmic? Really, really orgasmic? Well, I have been since I met my master. Before him, I had maybe one orgasm a month. Sometimes Homer was in the room, usually not.

Now, since he came into my life, I can cum from rubbing against the ridge on the edge of a chair. All I need is a chair to sit in and my master texting sweet nothings to bring me to orgasm. He's made me cum in business meetings, at lunch, and once while riding in the backseat of a car. Nobody has ever noticed.

Needless to say, he knows he can do this to me. And he clearly intended to do it again.

S: [Please, master]

Looking back, perhaps not the best choice of words. He knew what I meant, but as soon as I pressed Send, I knew how he would take it. I closed my eyes and tried to keep things under control.

M: [I love it when you beg, baby doll...you know I always do my best for you...heh, heh]

M: [now you just ignore the fact that my fingers are working their way inside your panties.]

M: [can you feel that? Can you feel me searching for that hard, wet little button?]

Yes, I could feel it! Of course I could feel it! It was incredible to me that no one else in the room could see or feel the heat coming off of me.

M: [my hands are busy, so I'm using my tong

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