Le bien et le mal cohabitent ensemble, se titillent, se cherchent et s'entremêlent au point de faire corps. Le mot d'ordre est sans contexte sous le signe du plaisir et de la jouissance. Les valeurs morales sont sans cesse remises en question. La vertu est mise sous la rude épreuve du libertinage et de l'érotisme. Les personnages font preuve d'une créativité déstabilisante. Un mélange de cynisme, d'hypocrisie, d'amour, d'envie et beaucoup de passion... Le fruit défendu n'a jamais été autant convoité et avec autant d'habilitée!

Une correspondance du 18ème siècle oh combien contemporaine... Un seul principe dans le livre, jamais par derrière...

A dévorer!

Nous avions décrété que la présence d'amants ou de maîtresses n'était pas gênante tant que ça n'enlevait rien à notre couple. D'une certaine façon, c'est toujours vrai le concernant : il n'a rien volé à mon couple. Il avait déjà ce que j'ai à peine entrevu les premières semaines de notre relation : son désir inconditionnel et son lâcher-prise.

Bon sang, mais dès le deuxième soir j'aurais dû me douter de quelque chose. C'était sous mes yeux : elle m'annonçait la (c)(d)ouleur. Comment ai-je pu être aussi naïf et croire que cet homme n'était qu'alternative à sa solitude, et qu'il ne lui serait plus utile notre histoire évoluant ? Je trouvais ça tellement normal pour une fille seule d'avoir un amant. Naïf, naïf, naïf. C'est la seule façon pour elle de l'avoir. Cet homme reste une constante, malgré sa rareté.

J'ai l'impression de m'apprêter à vivre une moitié de relation quand je m'attendais à une relation quasi-idéale. Je n'arrive pas à lui en vouloir, à elle. Mais l'injustice de la situation me donne envie de briser toutes les matières qui m'entourent.

De les faire voler en éclat et disparaître dans les débris.

I asked her to bring her old high-school uniform, almost a cliche, but the fact is I first knew her when she was in high school, and never did see her in the flesh in that uniform. Curiosity as well as kink. She is the one who wants to play a prostitute for me; and after I've used her as my fucktoy, I'm to pour her a bubble bath and hold her and be gentle, itself a fantasy we've both held for a long time.

If we're discreet, and have a little luck, she wants to make love in my office downtown.

That's just the short list. The real question is will we have time for all the fantasies we want to explore. We had planned earlier for the Mistress to come Friday night, but she thought better of it a few days ago. It would have made for a less ambitious weekend, but my Mistress still lives with her mother. She could only come at all because her mother will be away that weekend. She has family too that still live in her neighbourhood. The less time she spends away, the more discreet about our affair she will be.

I was disappointed, but it's all right. Our fantasies will not rot between this weekend and when next we meet. I don't feel so bad about it, though. It turns out my Mistress has made an appointment with her other lover for Friday. She's promised to tell me all about it afterwards.

To me she's "The Girl." The Mistress won't tell me her real name. She doesn't need one. After all, even though she is well aware of my existence, The Girl does not know the name of her friend's Older Lover either. It maintains an air of mystery. I do know she is much taller than my mistress, with long brown hair, and that they were introduced by a mutual friend, a gay man who had no time for my Mistress's ideas of keeping an Older Lover, and was sure all she needed was a girlfriend.

Very well, my Mistress concluded, she would have both.

This could have been very complicated, but my Mistress was thrilled to learn that The Girl had no objection to my presence. This was a girl she could trust. I found, to my own surprise no objection to the Girl's. Of course, many men fantasize about having a prostitute or a "hot girlfriend" for a partner; I was one, but even if such had happened to me, I wasn't sure I could handle it. Jealousy is an awful thing. As it is, I find myself thrilled to hear the Mistress tell me not just of her fantasies about others--such as a professor of hers, another Older Man--or of her fantasies of being a prostitute, but of the exploits she's gotten up to with the Girl--such as attending a club where the Girl's sort-of-boyfriend was playing the drums, and making out in a dark corner half the night (texting me from time to time!)

The Girl e-mailed the Mistress this morning saying that she wanted to "take a break" from her boyfriend. I suspect I'll be hearing a lot more about her. I can't wait.

---

My Mistress and the Girl are going to see a documentary being shown at a film festival in their city. I teased the Mistress, wondering would she be rubbing the Girl's pussy during the picture.

I hadn't thought she would, but she responded, "I will. And I'll tell you all about it."

The first time she touched me was at the theatre, just after she asked me to be her lover. She'd being playing footsie with me at the restaurant, and teasing me by rubbing perfume on her breasts; and at the play itself she asked me to cover my lap with my coat and unbutton my pants, and while she watched the sexy actress in the red dress and shoes on stage she reached in and oh so softly caressed my shaft, gently pushed her fingers between my shaft and my balls. She said afterwards she had no real idea what she was doing--she had only ever been with women before she met me, and certainly had never jerked a man off in public--but as for me the whole first act was a blur.

When I first returned the favour I was, I admit, even worse off. I had been with women before, but I'd never rubbed one in a movie theatre. She covered her lap with her coat, and I contented myself with stroking her knee and her thigh, until she (a little crossly) had to force my hand under the coat. I got the hint, and slowly worked my hand into her pants, caressing her pussy through her panties.

"Sugar," she said finally, "this is not the time to be shy."

And she shoved my hand into her panties, down onto her already dripping pussy.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yes..." she whispered.

So I rubbed her lips and her clit, occasionally dipping my middle finger into her pussy, directing my hand per her occasional instructions and marveled at her expressions, at turns trying to focus on the movie and shutting her eyes to enjoy the feel of my hand, until at last she whispered, "I'm going to come...keep going," then said again when I slowed down the least bit, more frantically, "Keep going!" and in spite of my hand cramping up I did, as fast as I could, watching her mouth open and her eyes screw shut until at last she suddenly said, "Stop, stop, STOP!"

And I did, instantly pulling my hand out.

After a moment to catch her breath she breathed, "That was good,"

She took my fingers and licked them off, as she had always done when she was alone.