1 comments/ 10132 views/ 3 favorites Three-Day Weekend By: dripswithsex You are coming home in a good mood. You had a good day and look forward to our day off tomorrow. I'm looking forward to a 3-day weekend with you! You ask me to call you as you leave work. Eagerly, I dial your number and squirm with a giddy excitement when I hear your voice on the line. "Who is it?" you tease. "Your rabbit, " I giggle. "Rabbit." you muse. "MY rabbit," as if turning the thought over in your mind. I am grinning from ear to ear as you speak. You know how much I love being reminded that I am yours, body, mind, and heart! My hand drifts to the collar around my neck as my fingers toy with it idly. "Rabbit?!" The tone of your voice indicates that I missed what you said while my thoughts drifted. "Master?" I meekly reply. "I said, I hope you are ready for when I get home." 'Eeps!!' I think, hoping I didn't say that aloud. Master must have something in mind for when he gets home. My heart races and my brain races a different direction. "Yes, Master," I reply. My heart is pounding so loudly, I'm certain you can hear it. "Good, rabbit. I'll be home in 5 minutes. Say goodbye." Normally, I dawdle on the goodbyes, but I know I better have things ready for you when you get home, so I quickly respond with a, "Goodbye, Master," and hang up the phone. I'm not in a panic, but where is my leash?!?!?! Scurrying into the bedroom, I check the toy box for my leash, digging through the vibes, clamps, floggers, OH restraints! I grab those and place them beside me as I dig more. 'Where did we have the leash last?' I wonder. Suddenly my eyes light up as I snag the restraints and dive on the bed and unwrap the leash from the post on the headboard. I shimmy out of my pants and check my look in the mirror. T-shirt and panties! Yes, that will do! I resist the urge to smooth the errant curl in the middle of my forehead, the curl that you find endearing, before I hustle to the door. The sound of your car coming up the drive tells me I have no time. I slide to my knees, lower my head, and wait. As soon as I hear the doorknob turn, I lift the leash and restraints in offering. A soft smile plays across my lips as you pluck them from my small hands and set to work fastening the wrist restraints. A warm and tingling calm spreads over me as you secure me. The leash clips on my collar and I look up into your eyes. "There, now you are nicely attired, rabbit," you appraise. Softly I reply, "Yes, Master." "Come, let's go to the bedroom." The quick puzzled look on my face sparks a smirk on yours. This is not our routine. Obediently, I rise and pad behind you to the bedroom, my heart still racing. "On your knees, rabbit," you order. I comply, sliding to my knees at your feet. "Help me get comfortable. I need out of these work clothes." My dark eyes twinkle impishly as they lift to yours. Deftly, I untie your shoes and take them off. Small fingers work your belt buckle free. My bottom squirms, having felt the bite of your belt once or twice. I can feel the heat of you on my face as I tug down your pants. I inhale deeply, I love your smell. My tongue slides over my lips as I draw my face closer. "Not yet, eager rabbit," you scold. "You aren't done undressing me." "Yes, Master," I pout. But judging by the growing lump in your underwear, I know I won't have to wait too long. My tongue wets my lips again. I start to tug at your briefs, but you stop me. "Just stay put, rabbit. I'll finish this." You pull off your shirt. I watch from beneath my lashes. A soft flush spreads over me. I watch and wait for you to tug off your briefs, while I am squirming on my heels. My jaw drops and eyes shoot up to yours as you throw on a t-shirt and sweats. "What's wrong my impatient, rabbit?" You chuckle at me as I pout and whimper. "You'll just have to wait. Come on! Let's head to the living room, shall we?" "Yes, Master," I reply as you lead me to your chair. I have my small footstool beside your chair. You grab it and place it in front of the chair before you sit. "Have a seat, rabbit." I settle on the stool, my cheeks flush as you nudge my legs open with your foot. Reflexively, I scoot my bottom towards the edge of the stool and open my legs for you. I blush and look down because my damp panties betray my excitement. I wonder if you will attach my wrists to the stool legs when you say, as you read my mind, "You'll be needing your hands to serve me... for now." You take a few more seconds appraising me as I squirm under your gaze and fight the urge to close my legs. You seem to be enjoying my reaction to your gaze and you continue taking in your property. "Tsk tsk, rabbit. Those panties look wet. Tell me, are they?" If they aren't already, they certainly are now from the sound of your voice. My right hand slides up to cup my mound, I whimper softly as I feel my damp panties. "Yes, Master," I answer breathlessly. "My panties are moist." I bite my bottom lip as my fingers fidget nervously on the damp cloth. "Are you wet, my Rabbit?" I whimper my reply, "Uh huh... uh. Yes, Master." Pouting to you, my eyes beg for more. My legs I wanted to close just seconds before are now open wide as my fingers trace the outline of my lips through the cloth. You sit back in your chair and regard me with a smirk. "Does my rabbit wish to touch herself?" "Yes, Master," I whimper and beg. "Please." "Please, what?" "Please may I use my fingers to touch myself, Master?" My bottom is practically lifting off the stool as I squirm. "Yes," you allow, as you watch me closely. My head falls back as I gasp once my fingers slip into my panties. I'm so wet and slick that my middle finger easily slides past my lips. My hips rise to meet my probing touch. Earnestly my fingers work beneath my panties. My eyes are half open while I moan deep in my throat, your eyes never leaving me as I play with myself for your amusement. My body is flushed from the excitement, my cheeks spike a pink blush as I'm exposed before you. My eyes meet yours as my breathing grows more ragged. I am caught in your gaze, "Take your panties off," you tell me firmly. I comply eagerly and settle back on the stool. "Touch yourself for me, rabbit." you order. My eyes drop shyly as my hand drifts back to my mound. Small fingers gently part the lips exposing my clit before I start rubbing it in small circles. Quickly I lose my modesty. I love playing with myself for you. Your eyes on me turn me on even more as soon I'm begging, "Please, Master, may I cum?" "Yes, cum for me, rabbit!" I cry out as my bottom leaves the stool. A strong orgasm crashes over me while you watch me quake, my breathing quick as I try to catch it, my eyes shut tight to the world while I cum hard. "Float," you order. Float, I do, and slowly my breathing relaxes as my toes uncurl and I open my loving eyes to you. 'Oh, my!' Your sweats are pulled down and your hand is wrapped around your cock, stroking it as you watch me. Seeing my eyes are open, quickly, you swoop down on me and grab my hair, pulling my head back, reflexively I gasp and you take the opportunity to invade my mouth with yours. Your mouth leaves mine. My full lips parted, wanting... Your hand never leaves my hair as you tug and guide my mouth over your waiting cock. I moan deeply as you fill my mouth, my tongue sliding along the underside of your shaft as I suck you like an ice pop on a hot summer day. The more excited you get, the more I'm spurred on. My hand slides up to cup and play with your balls while I take you with my mouth. I can hear in your breathing that you are getting close. I slide all of you in, my lips brush your balls. I suck hard and moan as I slowly drawn my lips up to the tip then suddenly swoop down to the base of your shaft again. Your hips jerk up as you shove your cock deeper and cry out, your hands still wrapped in my hair while you fill my mouth with cum that I eagerly take. Carefully, I slip my mouth off your satisfied cock and lay my cheek on your leg while you stroke my hair. "MMMM, good rabbit." We smile matching dopey grins as our eyes meet. Yes, this is going to be a great 3 day weekend, I think as I relax with Master. Three-Day Weekend: I Hire a P.I. I surprised myself by waking up at 6 AM on the first day of a three-day weekend. I am definitely not a get-up-early-and-get-cracking type of person. The possibilities for the weekend seemed endless: sex, a leisurely reading of the morning paper, sex, going out to coffee or lunch, sex, puttering around in my shop, sex, and so on. Well, perhaps not so much sex, as I am not as young as I used to be, but then nobody is, and never will be, short of the invention of a time machine. Now, back when I was seventeen, and had more energy and stamina, I could . . . oh, never mind, that age, and that energy and stamina, all are long gone, and probably exaggerated in my memory. My wife and I were now both busy people, and times for relaxing, lovemaking, even just sitting and talking were hard to come by. In my mind this made these things very important, and much to be sought after. In her mind, I think, not so much. In sum, our marriage had been in a semi-coma for some time, emotionally, sexually, even in terms of quiet companionship and conversation. It seemed we never had time for each other. My wife was stirring this early morning, and was wrapped in the bedclothes in a way that displayed the curves of life very nicely. I reached over for a feel. She said, "Not now, I have to get going." "Whoa", I said, "This is a three-day weekend! We have time for some of the good things in life." She said, "Oh, I have so much to do this weekend, I have to get up and get started on it." I said something to the effect that, hey, there was always time for messing around, and in the morning at the start of a three-day weekend is one of those times. She said something to the effect that, maybe later, this is a busy time and I have to take advantage of this weekend. I said something to the effect that her priorities were badly fucked up if she was so up tight that she couldn't live like a normal human being, let alone be a real wife to me. She said, "Ok, if you just can't wait, let's get it over with." That did not sound to me like the recipe for a good time, so I told her, "Never mind, if that is how you feel, I am going out. " I was dressed and on the way out in a very short time, and more than a little bit angry. She asked me when I would be home, and I told her that I felt like going out to photograph some buildings that interested me, and might decide to go as far as Palm Springs to photograph some of the architecture of the 1950s if the mood took me. That would be a trip of about 270 miles each way, so would not be a one day round trip. She asked if I would be home that night or not, and I told her I did not know, I had not decided how far to go, and would decide that once the day got under way. She was now angry, too, and asked how she could plan her day if she did not know when I would be home. I replied that it did not appear to me that it made much difference to her whether I was home or not, she would probably be too busy to notice. I added that I would be home either this evening, or tomorrow evening, or the next evening as in fact the freedom to be flexible is one of the delights of a three-day weekend, and I intended to enjoy mine and she could do whatever she wished with hers. I thought, but did not say, "and if you don't like it, you can stuff it." She was now even more angry, and insisted that I call later to at least let her know if I would be home this evening. I rankled under that demand, and said, "Well, I may or may not, and if you need to know that because you intend to do the horizontal mambo with some other guy, go to a motel, I am not going to report in to you and restrict my freedom to come and go so that you can screw around inside my own house." She said, "I have never done anything like that! How dare you accuse me." I left. I also began to be suspicious; so much so that I did something I had never done before, and called a private investigator that I had met a couple of times. I asked him to check her out over the weekend, and agreed to his fee and expenses. He was not delighted, this sort of assignment was something he hated, but it put bread on his table. Afterwards, I sat in my car and engaged in a little self-hypnosis to put all that crap out of my mind and plan a weekend of looking at and photographing nice things. Despite the three-day weekend, traffic was not too bad. I began working my way southeast, stopping for interesting sights and lunch and coffee and gasoline and so on. I thought about a little "play for pay" action in the LA area, but dismissed the idea as probably not being much fun, and any way, it was not something I did, being pretty much of a one-woman man. For better or worse. Right now it seemed like "for worse". I pulled over and stopped, and did a booster session of self-hypnosis to get back into a positive mood for the freedom of the weekend. The afternoon wasn't bad at all. I followed my nose (and a guidebook) to see some interesting architecture, and really enjoyed going where I pleased when I pleased. I had gone far enough so that it was time to decide whether to continue on to Palm Springs or to turn around and go back. I called "my" P.I. and asked what was up. He said that she had left the house and gone to what I recognized as her office, then later out to lunch by herself, then back to her office, and was still there. "Hmph. Dullsville!" I thought to myself. I decided to turn back and get to bed in my own bed at a reasonable hour. Doing this would save me the expense of a hotel in an expensive town, not to mention gasoline and food costs, and I could always make a trip to Palm Springs later. When I arrived home about 11 PM, she was not at home. I decided not to care. I had a glass of wine, watched TV for a few minutes and went to bed alone. I must confess that, angry or not, a bed with somebody in it alongside you is better than an empty bed. I heard her come in but decided not to let on that I had been awakened, even if only slightly. I quickly went back to sleep. She awakened me in the morning with a cup of coffee while I was still in bed, and said, "We need to talk." I replied, "Well, it's curious that you think so, when you seem to have so little time for me or for our marriage otherwise. Don't you have too much to do to waste time on such trivia as talking with your husband?" She said, "Well, it's not going to do much good to try to talk if you are angry and hostile." I said, "Well, I am sure as hell angry and hostile, so make of that what you will." She huffed out of the room. I got dressed and took my coffee cup into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table having breakfast. I fixed my own, and set down at the table across from her. She asked me, "Where did you go all day?" I replied, "None of your damned business, where did you go all day and so late into the night?" She responded in kind: "None of your damned business." I resolved to get out of the house as quickly as possible and find something to occupy me for the day. Once I was out of the house, I called my P.I. again and asked what he had seen. He said, "Not much. She stayed at her office until evening, then ate supper in a café and went to a movie. She went straight home after the movie." I thanked him and told him that that was enough, and to send me his bill at my office, and not to my home. He volunteered that he did not think I had any reason for concern, not based on what he had seen, and I thanked him. I decided to go home and try to fix a roof leak. I already had he necessary materials on hand, so I was soon on the roof attacking the task. I regretted not changing clothes, as roofing cement inevitably gets on everything one is wearing, but I had not wanted to go into the house and have to deal with her. Several hours and a lot of cursing later I thought that I might have fixed the leak and decided to wrap it up and wait until the next rain to see if I had succeeded. When I went into the house in my underwear, having shed the newly cemented outer clothing into the garbage, and cleaned my hands, she was on the telephone. I headed for the shower. When I came out she said that she going to see a friend and would not be home until tomorrow night. I grunted. I'll be damned if I was going to give her the satisfaction of asking her where or why. She went to the bedroom to change. I immediately called the P.I. back and asked if he was available to continue on short notice, like now. He said he was. I stopped her when she came out of the bedroom and said that we needed to look at the bills so I could get them out of the way. She said ok and sat down. I figured that this delay might give the P.I. time to get here. After some bill shuffling and checking, we finished and she got up to leave. She looked back at me, as if to ask, well, don't you want to know where I am going? However she did not say anything. Neither did I. She left. I called the P.I. and he said he was on the spot and saw her leaving, and would follow her. I decided that after the 'roofing awfuls' I deserved a Jacuzzi session and retired to that pleasant pastime with a good book and my cell phone, trying to keep my mind off how crappy I felt about our relationship and about life in general. Several hours later the P.I. called and said that she had driven to a house in town and parked there several hours ago, and gave me the address. I thanked him and set out trying to figure out whose house it was. It turned out to be the house of one of her women co-workers, and that a little after her arrival another woman had arrived. He described her, and it sounded like another of her co-workers that I knew slightly, but thought I recognized from the description. The P.I. called again a couple of hours later and said that one woman had left but that before she left a man had arrived. I did not recognize the man from the P.I.'s description, but assumed that it was another of her co-workers, as the woman who lived there had seemed to know him when she greeted him at the front door. Oh, oh. Results. I knew that I could go there within a very few minutes, but decided not to do so. I couldn't imagine any good outcome of doing so. I puttered away the rest of that day and the next day as well, and thought about what I might have done when I was younger and more volatile, and knew that that would not have been good. She came home the evening of the third day of the weekend. I did not notice anything different or suspicious about her, but then asked myself, how would I? I did not say anything to her when she arrived, and she went upstairs to our bedroom without comment. She came down a little later and sat down across from me. She said, "I suppose you are wondering where I spent the night." I said, "No, I was not wondering that. I don't give a damn where you spent the night." She said, "Well, I spent it at Anita's, and she asked two other of our friends to come over. They have both recently gone through divorces, and I wanted to ask them how it is done and what their experiences had been. I am moving out. One of the friends who came over was Edward, and he offered to let me stay in his spare bedroom while I think over what to do. It does not involve sex, he is just providing me with a place to stay." I said, "Well, I don't care if you fuck the ears off Edward, and the mailman, and the milkman, and the iceman, just get out of here as soon as possible, and do not for any reason ever come back. Whenever you decide you want the rest of your stuff, hire a commercial mover and I will cooperate with the mover to get all trace of you out of here." She packed and left with two suitcases. The bed now really seemed empty. Quite a three-day weekend. Afterwards we both went back to being too busy, separately, but then that is what we had been doing for some time, we now just did it in different beds and houses. The marriage was moribund long before this weekend. And so it goes. Whether or not she fucked Edward is irrelevant.