We found a spot by the far wall of the dungeon. There was no equipment, but there was enough room for a chair for him to sit on. He grabbed a seat while I ran to my room for my kit. When I returned, he sat there, waiting. In front of him was a yoga mat. It was to be my work area.
I sat down and pulled out the cigar boxes holding my materials. I mentioned to him that I still had my gifted raw hemp, if he was in the mood. I asked him if I should keep my boots on. "Yes." I asked him if he wanted to take my clothes off. "Yes." We got started.
He owed me a kiss. At the Cigar Social, he was sick and could not demonstrate for the class smoke kisses. He repaid his debt, pulling me in for an embrace. As our lips played, he lifted my dress up over my hips and began fingering me.
"You're ready. Are you wet from your last scene?" I nodded yes. "How can I compare to that?"
"There is no comparison."
He pulled my dress up and off my body. He teased me with kisses. He flung my garment to the side.
He pushed my face down towards his crotch. I gladly nuzzled him through his Punisher underwear. He unhooked my bra; it fell free from my arms.
"Did you miss my cock?"
"Yes."
"But it was just in your mouth two days ago."
"Doesn't matter. I miss it as soon as it leaves my mouth."
As I nuzzled him, he pulled my hair and eased his boot in between my legs. I rode his leather while caressing him still through fabric.
"What part of bootblacking is this?"
"Warm up."
Gripping my strands, he pulled me in for another kiss.
"Maybe after you finish a boot I'll pull my cock out and let you suck it."
He forced me all the way down to the floor; time to start my work.
Haiku Review of 2024: 20th Anniversary of Reducing the Fuckery to a Size We
Can Handle
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That's right. Back in 2004, I did my own review of the year through the
delicate poem with the incisive power of a stiletto made of metaphor. Then
rude r...
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