The Traveling Pussy

Chapter 14: Tsunade’s Second Message

When the bell rang, we were still in Ibiki’s bedroom, feeding each other bits of sushi and sashimi: sometimes with chopsticks, sometimes with our fingers, and sometimes with our tongues. We exchanged looks of annoyance.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, “who could they need interrogated or tortured on a Saturday night? This is the disadvantage of living where you work.”

Ibiki laughed and pulled on the black kimono and headed for the stairs. I just flopped back on the bed and lay there feeling incredibly happy. When Ibiki returned to the bedroom, he was frowning.

“Oh baby,” I said, “Are they going to make you work tonight?”

“Not exactly,” he said sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing. I crawled over to him and hugged him from behind and began kissing his neck.

“Tell me the bad news,” I said between kisses.

“Tsunade thinks it would be a good idea for the relationship between Konoha and Sand if we went to Temari’s little party at the Yellow Flash,” he said, unhappiness clear in his voice.

“Screw Tsunade, you do exactly what you want, Master Ibiki. Hasn’t she ever heard the words, `Henge no Jutsu’? Come on, Naruto could easily have two of his clones replicate us, no problem. I’ve seen fifty of him go out the gate for a morning jog.”

Ibiki laughed and flopped back on the bed, pulling me down for a long kiss. “Have I told you I loved you recently?” he asked.

“No, you are a bad, bad master,” I said, “I haven’t heard that for at least twenty minutes.”

“And you are a bad, bad slave,” he said. “You’re trying to make me avoid obeying orders.”

“Orders? We are ordered to go to a stupid party? No way, the Hokage of Konoha doesn’t have time to micromanage the social lives of everyone.”

Ibiki pulled the note out of his kimono and handed it to me. “It strikes me as a bit odd too.”

I scanned the note. It was pretty clear Tsunade was going to the party and expected both of us to be there for at least one-half hour or we would be “failing to protect Konoha’s interests.”

“I’ll bet that gambling bitch has a bet riding on us,” I said.

“Hey, watch that mouth,” said Ibiki, “That’s our beloved Fifth you’re talking about.”

I said nothing but just stroked the scars running from his neck to his shoulder. Then it seemed important to lick the main scar, the thick red one, with my tongue.

Ibiki groaned and rolled me over, laying on top of me, kissing me as if he hadn’t been kissing me all day, but we’d been apart for hours. I could feel him aroused again, his maleness pressing against my stomach. I spread my legs and wrapped them around him, pushing eagerly up into his kiss and embrace. I let my hands pull off his handscarf and caress the odd ridges and holes on his head.

I was pretty sure he liked my hands touching his head because he slid himself into me, and once again, we were face-to-face, kissing and touching and trying to push ourselves into each other as much as we could. Things were just starting to get more passionate when the sound of breaking dishes killed the moment.

We’d forgotten about the plate holding the few bits of sushi we’d not yet eaten. Of course it was smashed into too many pieces to repair. I started to giggle. “If we keep breaking dishes at this rate, we won’t have any after a month,” I said.

Ibiki smiled at me and thrust deep into me. I stopped giggling and started moaning. He thrust into me again and then said, “Let’s break them all and pick out a new pattern together we both like.” Oh my god—talking about picking out china patterns while giving it good and hard to a girl—that was a double whammy. I started to orgasm around him, and he laughed, but he didn’t stop moving inside me to make sure I kept cumming.

“Oh god, Ibiki, no fair, oh god, oh god . . .”

He suddenly pulled out and moved down the bed, so he could lick my throbbing clit. I screamed out and lost it. I was still thrashing about in pleasure when he stood up at the foot of the bed and jerked my legs up, pushing back inside me and pulling my ankles up to his shoulders. He then moved back pulling me off the bed and sending my head plunging down towards the floor. If you’ve never been held upside down by a lover who’s thrusting into you, you might not understand why I really started screaming, now half in fear and half in pleasure. I felt completely helpless and terrified of falling on my newly healed head.

Then Ibiki began to cum in me, and it was amazing. At some point he must have lowered me to floor because we ended up on the floor facing opposite directions breathing heavily and exhausted from yet another amazing round of sex.

“Dammit,” I said, “I can’t even get my breath; you better not make me go to a party.”

“Oh, you’re going,” he said, “You’re going with your pussy full of my cum. And I think I’ll drag you into the bathroom and fuck you when we get there.”

I moaned and rolled over to push my face into his legs. Between pants for air, I kissed his ankles. As I got better control over my breathing, I started to give him a hickey on his shin.

Ibiki sighed and said, “As much as I want to stay here and let you nibble every bit of me, I think we better get washed up and put on our uniforms now. If we stay home and keep at this, neither one of us will be able to say anything remotely diplomatic.”

“Uh, Ibiki, ummm, I don’t think we’re being ordered to go for our diplomatic talents. I was serious about Tsunade having a bet on us. I suspect we are going to be the hot topic of gossip tonight, and I would really recommend we just put on a show. It’s hard to tease a couple when they are sucking each other’s face in public.”

Ibiki sat up, clearly startled, “You’re planning to suck my face in public?”

“Yea, and grope you and stroke you and lick you and fetch you drinks and food and hang on your every word and make it clear you are the only man in the room I see,” I said. “That’s what sex slaves do at parties when they’re not being dragged off to be fucked in the bathroom.”

Ibiki groaned and let himself flop back down on the floor, “Oh shit, I can’t do this. I don’t do parties. I go to parties as security, not a guest.”

“Oh baby, don’t worry, I’m an expert at parties. You go take a shower, and I’ll pick out some clothes for you. Nobody wears their uniform to a party.”

“I don’t have normal clothes,” said Ibiki.

I started to laugh and began to just kiss his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyes, his nose, and his cheeks. “I love you, scaredy-cat; now go get a shower.”

“This is how boyfriends get treated, isn’t it? This sucks,” he said getting up. “You are going to pay for this later when Tsunade finally stops sticking her nose into our business.”

“There are fringe benefits, however,” I said watching that sexy body move into the bathroom. “I’ll be happy to go over all the benefits in detail when we get back home.”

The only response was the door to the bathroom slamming.

It was thrilling to rummage through Ibiki’s drawers and closet. But he was serious about not having much clothing beside uniforms. When I hit his ANBU-style uniform with no sleeves, I stopped looking, however. The tight navy top would be perfect without the standard white ANBU vest. He could wear black pants, black leg bandages, and black shoes with it. His regular headscarf would be fine. I doubted I would be able to convince him to just wear the high navy gloves that went with the ANBU uniform, but his big black coat and regular black gloves would be fine.

It suddenly occurred to me, I had no idea where my clothes were. I went into the bathroom to ask Ibiki if my stuff was somewhere in his place. He pulled me into the shower for another long kiss as if he had missed me. I forgot why I was there until he whispered in my ear, “As much as I want to play, I’d better go get your hair stuff and makeup for you. I’ve heard girlfriends need a lot of time with that sort of stuff.”

I moaned in protest and tried to keep him in the shower with me. He peeled me off him and handed me a bottle of shampoo. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll pick out your clothes for you, and it seems somebody was telling me earlier I had terrible taste in clothing.”

I grinned at that, but I did start washing my hair as fast as possible.

When I stepped out of the shower, one of my duffle bags with all my feminine do-dads was there. I quickly blew my hair dry--just dry enough to not get sick from a cold. Then I got to work trying to cover up those rings under my eyes. Cripes, I would need a vacation to recover from my vacation. I couldn’t imagine I’d be getting a lot of sleep the rest of the week.

When I came out, Ibiki was wearing the outfit I’d picked out, but without the coat. I gasped, and my mouth fell open. He looked so hot. He said something to me, but I didn’t process it, that’s how hot he looked. Finally, he walked up to me and pulled me over to the bed. He pointed to two dresses on the bed, saying, “Which one?” One was a long-sleeved wrap-around dress. It clung to my curves, and the front revealed a lot of cleavage. It hung down to my knees. The other dress was shorter, a silver-gray sheath with sparkles on it.

“Who cares?” I said, “No one is going to look at me with you looking so fucking sexy.”

Ibiki laughed and picked up the black one, “This one then.” I put on the underwear he’d set on the bed and slid the dress on.

“I need shoes,” I said.

“Do you mind wearing these?” he asked holding up the black spikes I’d had on this morning when I went looking for him.

“No, Master,” I said, putting my foot out and rubbing it up and down his crotch.

He caught my ankle and slid the shoe on my foot. He fastened the studded strap around my ankle, and I moaned and whimpered.

“Behave, dammit,” he said dropping my foot and holding out his hand for the other one. I lay back on the bed and watched him put the shoe on me. I was panting again.

“You want to be fucked again, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, please fuck me again Master,” I pleaded.

“No, no more fucking for you, slut,” he said. “And if you cum again before I give you permission, you will be spending the night alone in the cell. Now get up.”

Shit. He really knew how to push my buttons. There was no way I was going to spend the night horny and alone in a cell if I could be in his bed with just a little good behavior.

“Yes, Master,” I said meekly standing up and smoothing down my dress.

“You messed up your hair. Go fix and get your purse. I’ll be waiting upstairs,” he said, kissing my forehead softly as if he wasn’t being a jerk.

I sighed and headed back to the bathroom. I wasn’t looking forward to this party.

******
To my readers--
Ok, I know I was going to be good and not work on this story any more, but I really love this couple. Let me know if you want more too.