~ erotica ~
She rode his face, her hips rising and falling with the bend of her knees. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her pussy to his lips, as he enjoyed every last bit of her. She reclined her head back, body rolling, as his tongue moved just the way she liked.
I had the perfect view. My mouth around his cock. My hands resting on my lower back. My eyes focused on them.
It wasn't everyday they allowed me to participate, let alone watch. It wasn't every day that I got see them, both of them, this way. But this wasn't any normal day.
One year. One year since we started our interactions. One year since I walked through their front door, got down on my knees, and asked them to have me. One year of learning what they wanted, how they wanted it. One year of being at their beck and call. Doing this. Completing that. And always, always ready to be on my hands and knees, all holes open for whatever either wanted.
I circled my tongue around the head of his cock and flicked just underneath. I moved the way I knew he loved, playing with his dick as I pleasured him, taking glee in my work. Closing my eyes, I sucked hard, and slowly filled my mouth and throat with him, sinking his cock inside me. I slid my mouth up and down his shaft. Slowly. Slowly. He never wanted to cum too fast. I never wanted to stop sucking his cock.
I felt the grip of my hair. Felt the hand pull my mouth off his cock. Opened my eyes, and saw her, still riding him, a fury in her gaze equal parts anger and lust.
She stared at me forever before slapping me across my face. Then again, backhanding my cheek.
"Try harder," she said before forcing my mouth back onto his cock. I clenched my hands. My pussy quivered. I was glad she couldn't see how wet I was.
She pushed and pulled my head on his cock, quickening my pace, bringing him closer and closer to his cum. He started moaning into her cunt. She purred at his sounds, the vibration adding that much more pleasure to her fun.
"That's it, little thing. Make him cum."
Her hand released my hair, but I felt her will pushing me still. I continued my speed along his cock. Continued my tongue dancing along his shaft. Continued to take him into my throat. It wasn't long before his hips moved. His cock twitched. And he screamed and spewed his cum into my mouth.
I heard her, too, as she came on his face. Her guttural growl as the wave of ecstasy rolled throughout her body.
I swallowed his semen, licked my lips, and sat back on my feet, eyes lowered, waiting whatever they asked of me.
"What do you think," he asked her as he wiped the pussy juice, saliva, and sweat from his face. He wore the grin I loved, the one he always had after I made him cum.
She stood, her stiletto boots making her tower over me. She stared down on his unassuming frame.
"She's useful," he said. "And talented."
"I had to coach her."
"You had to encourage her. And that's only cause you weren't patient. You never want a long slow fuck."
"But she does."
I made sure not to look up, not to move.
"You love sucking his cock. Would love to do it all day and all night, I'm sure. Is that right?"
She had asked a direct question. I had to answer.
"Yes, Mistress."
"What about my pussy? Would you lick and suck it til the Sun rose?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Hmm..."
"I told you," he said. "She's useful."
"And eager. I think I will teach you how I want my pussy licked, since you seem to have mastered his cock just fine. I think we will keep you around a bit longer. Does this please you, little one?"
"Yes, Mistress."
~ erotica ~
"You must conquer me."
It was what he had heard before. The first had said it to him. She had spoken her truth on her knees in front of him their first night together.
"I want you to take me. To over power me. Break my will. Make me bend to you. Force your control upon me.
"I won't make it easy. I'll fight you, fight your will at every turn. But know that it's my greatest desire for you to win. I want you to find a way to make me yours, make me submit to you.
"I'll never just strip for you. You must tear my clothes apart. I'll never cater to your every whim. You must push me to do as you wish. I'll never beg or plead for your body, nor will I ever simply lay down my flesh at your feet just because it is your desire to have me. You must take what's yours. Fight my fury for every kiss and fuck you wish to have.
"I want you to conquer me. Can you? Will you?"
He tried, but never did.
This night, our first night, I sat on my knees in front of him prepared to speak my truth.
I was not her. And I knew I would say something all together different.
"I submit to you.
"I give my body to your desires. My will to your guidance. I kneel here in awe of you.
"My greatest wish is my head on your knee. Your hand caressing my hair. Knowing all is right because I am here with you and you are here with me.
"I want only to be yours, totally and completely. I ask for the privilege of being dominated by you. Of submitting to you. Please tell me what you want; I will fulfill it. Make any rule; I will follow it. Give me the tools to please you and I will never go astray.
"Use my body as you desire. My mouth, my pussy, my flesh is for your enjoyment whenever you have need of it. My mind is to be cultivated from your knowledge. My life enriched by being yours.
"Please, may I submit to you?"
~ erotica ~
"Hello Matt."
"Hello Whit."
I know my type. I get it. Tall. Leadership position. In control. I get it.
But there is something about Matt. Something in his manner. Something in the way he bosses us all around that gets me off.
We've never done anything, of course. I like my job and greatly want to keep it. The idea of me fucking the boss probably wouldn't sit right with any of my fellow co-workers.
So, instead, I greet Matt as I always do.
"Thank you, Matt."
He never replies to my habitual farewell. Never lingers until everyone is gone. Never tries to talk to me after the gig is over. Never makes a move.
Sometimes, in the middle of setting everything up, I look over and see him. He'll be shooting the shit with the client. Keeping tabs on everyone working. We never make eye contact. I don't look at him that often. But I usually have a sense of where he is. The hunger in my body often senses him.
Today was not a special day, nor a special gig. It was an easy load out. An easy going client. Everyone was happy.
I especially was pleased with the quickness of our work. I had a party to get to after the gig. People I was happy to see. Chill time to be had. I packed a bag just to change my clothes. No matter the rush, I did not want to show up in my dirty work outfit for what was sure to be a fun night.
When Matt dismissed us, and I said my normal thank you, I made my way to the restroom. Changed my clothes. Played with my hair. Sprayed my favorite scent on my skin. Transitioned from worker to party girl.
As I slung my garment bag over my shoulder, I grinned to myself. This was a first for me, looking this cute after a gig. I wondered what my coworkers would've thought of the switch.
Stepping outside of the restroom, I lazily walked towards the exit.
Passing the room I'd just worked in, I happened to glance inside. And I saw him. Matt, with his bag slung over his shoulder. A small smirk on his face as he walked towards me.
And then he saw me. His smirk got bigger. I waited the few breaths for him to join me.
"Hi Matt."
"Hi Whit. Off to have fun."
"Always, Matt."
We walked out of the building together towards our cars.
Matt had never seen me like this. I knew it would leave an impression. But I had one more gem to impart.
"I'm here," he said as we came upon his Jeep. "Have fun tonight."
"I plan to, Matt. But, before I go."
I reached into my bag, felt around for a moment, and then found it. I pulled out the cigar and handed it to him.
"For you, Matt."
He took the stick, glided it under his nose, and closed his eyes.
"Thanks again, Matt."
I turned and walked away before he could respond, but I could feel his eyes on me. Tracing the lines of my body from toe to tip. I hoped he liked the view, and trusted it would be his preferred thought as he enjoyed the tobacco some day soon.
"Whit."
I stopped. Turned. Smiled.
"Yes, Matt."
He pulled out a knife from his pocket. Flicked it open with a click. Wetted the end of the cigar. Notched the tobacco. Put away his knife. Lit my gift.
"Every time you say my name, it sounds like sex."
"Really, Matt." He wasn't the only one smiling.
"When we fuck, will you scream or whisper my name?"
"Depends, Matt."
"On?"
"What you want, Matt."
His smoke lingered around his face as his grin grew.
"Come here." He beckoned me over, the ember of his cigar's cherry a beacon for my steps.
"Yes, Matt."
~ erotica ~
Small world.
Is it him? Is it really him?
I see the picture. The tiny image on my screen. The arms. The abs. The smile.
Yes. Oh god, yes. It's him.
"Holy shit," I say to no one in particular.
There he is. Of all the people on this site. Of all the possible faces to come across my screen. His grin beams at me. The power of the internet.
And he sent me a message.
Small world.
What does he mean by that?
I look at our statistics. We line up well. No, amazingly close. Almost the best I've ever seen.
He knows about my life. What I do after work, on vacation. He hears the stories I don't tell anyone else at the office.
And he tells me his own secrets. What he and his girlfriend do on the weekends when a certain someone is in town. Or on vacations to beautiful beaches full of beautiful people.
Whenever we chat, I feel his gleeful face in my flesh. His laughs warming my loins.
The many things I want to do with him. The thoughts of all the things I want him to do to me.
But no. You don't shit where you eat, right? Everyone knows that, don't they?
And yet, he wrote me.
He is nothing if not a trickster. Did he seek me out? Is this just some fun little game of his?
No. He's heard my stories, yes, but he doesn't know my persona. My name outside of the cubicles. What people call me before they make me cum.
But now he does.
Should I answer? Play along?
What if this isn't a game? What if he isn't kidding around?
What if he's thought about his arms around me? What if he's wondered what my face looks like as I cum? What if he wants to feel my lips around his cock? See my eyes looking up into his as he fucks my face? Hears my begging? Tastes my tears? The power he'd have over me?
But what to say? How should I play this? What would he want to hear?
Fuck it.
Indeed, I reply.
Your move.
~ erotica ~
A hand over my mouth startled me awake. My eyes shot open. My shriek came out as a mumble into a hand. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. To recognize Dirk as the body that rested over mine.
When he saw the realization, he eased up his hand.
"What are you?"
His hand returned to my mouth. He shook his head no. My eyes slanted towards him. What was going on?
And then his lips replaced his hand. And we were kissing. In my bed. In the middle of the night. In the house we shared with four of our friends, who were all sleeping.
I had work in the morning. A long day, in fact, full of people I didn't like and assignments I barely cared about. I needed my rest.
But he was kissing me. And I didn't want him to stop kissing me. Ever.
I felt his body adjust to one side. Felt his arm run down my front. Felt his hand slip under my pajama pants. Felt his fingertips find my clit.
I moaned into his mouth, his lips muffling my sounds. I tilted my hips up, up. Trying to feel more of his hand against me.
Through his boxers, I knew how much he wanted this. How hard he was. How much he wanted me.
My left hand reached over to my end table. Blindly opened a drawer. Palmed a condom. I ran my hand down his arm until I found his free hand. He grabbed the condom. Held it in between his fingers. Then covered my mouth with his hand again.
He ripped off my pants. Dove his face down in between my legs. Got off the bed. Stood against the edge to be able to reach. My hands ambled around for something, anything, to cover my mouth. I found my stuffed bear, Honey. Crushed her against my lips. I hoped she didn't mind seeing me like this.
He climbed back onto the bed. Lifted my hips to his mouth. I could still feel the condom in his hand as he ignored it. Concentrated on licking. Flicking. Sucking. Enjoying my pussy.
I was happy I'd found Honey. My moans grew louder, but she muffled my noises. My body writhed. The tension grew. Built. Until I came against his tongue. Came squeezing my thighs around his face. Came screaming his name into my stuffed bear's belly.
He licked me once. Twice. Lapping up the mess. Before setting my hips back down on my bed. Before dropping the condom back in the drawer. Before slipping my pajama pants back on me. Before kissing my forehead and quietly slipping out of my bedroom.
The next evening, after a dull day. After people I didn't care much for and work I was barely able to stand, I came home. Kicked off my shoes. Dropped my things by the door. Heard no one else in the house. Checked my mail. And found a note in my box.
You taste delicious.
I ran upstairs and masturbated, staring at that piece of paper.
That night, and every night since, I leave my bedroom door cracked open, for the next time Dirk has a craving for a midnight snack.
~ erotica ~
My clit throbbed. I hadn't cum yet. The rope had only been on me for a few minutes.
He'd taken out the coil, my rope, and knelt in front of me. I'd let my hands laze in his hair as he worked. Wrapped once around my hips. Once under my ass. Knotted. Threaded the rope down between my lips. Brought it back up. Made a knot. Pulled tight through my pussy. Passed under the bands in back. Yanked down. Ran under the bottom band. Brought the rope back up. Tied it again. Tight. Knotted the excess around my waist loosely.
"Good. Go put in the laundry."
My face asked a question; my voice was silent.
"You heard me. Go put in the laundry."
I harrumphed before walking away.
Immediately, with my first step, I felt it. Every movement was different. Every swish of my hips. I bent to pick up the basket. I took the stairs to the basement. I filled the washer, bending and lifting. Never had a hated choir been so fun. I bounced back up the stairs. Up was so much more fun than down.
I stood in front of him.
"Sit," he said.
And here I am now. Minutes later.
He looms over me. I can't help but squirm in my chair. Even the slightest movement is wondrous. Full of an almost guilty pleasure.
He just looks down on me and smiles.
"Stop."
"But..."
"Stop."
I don't move.
But I can't not move. I bite my forefinger. And pulse. Pulse my clit against the knot. And look up at him with my puppy dog eyes. I beg without words. Let him see my torment. My pain. He loves to see my pain.
He bends down. Whispers into me ear.
"Go to bed."
I gasp, then scamper to our room. Every step is more glorious than the next.
I pull back the covers. Again, I sit. Then lay down. And then writhe. Face down. Snaking my body against mattress. Fucking myself with my rope. With the knot he tied. And it grows. And grows.
I turn my head. He's there. Staring. Smiling.
"Are you close?"
"Almost."
"Get closer."
I ease my hips up and down. I feel him watching me. My breathing quickens.
"Please?"
He flicks open his knife. I feel a yank on the rope. A moment of ease.
And then he's inside me. And he's pulling the rope in time with his thrusts. And the knot is against my clit. And he's pumping in and out.
And I scream, "Please?"
"Yes."
And I scream again.
Afterwards, I feel a little sad. Until he kisses my cheek, smiles, and says, "It's still long enough for next time."
~ erotica ~
His face was blank, cold. He worked quietly, except for the muted snap. He held the ribbon with one hand and lined up the medical staple gun with the other, making sure his aim was just so. He was creating art, cruel art, for his enjoyment.
This went on for what seemed like forever. Line up the ribbon, line up the staple gun, check his aim, and crack. Another piece of metal into my skin.
I tried not to move or make a sound. Tried not to meep or shriek. Tried to keep my breath from slipping into staccato. If I reacted, gave any indication, I knew two things would happen. One, he would be pleased that his torments were taking effect. And two, his treatment of my flesh would be worse. More art would adorn me. More pain inflicted. And his big flourish would be that much more to take in.
For it wasn't just the pattern he created that thrilled him. It wasn't just the zigzags or loops or whirls, the curves raised above my skin. No, it was the final pull, unzipping his zipper, that gave him his real thrill.
When he was finished with his work, he took a step back and admired his craft. A small, almost undetectable smirk, emerged on his face.
He set down the staple gun and slowly walked behind me. I felt his body next to mine. His crotch against ass. His chest against my shoulder blades. The musky smell of his cologne drifted into my nostrils.
Following the rules, I slid my arms behind him. Delicately gripped his ass. Lifted and exposed my chest. Propped up his art. Made my body ready for his fun. My head rested on his shoulder. I looked up at him for a few breaths before turning my head and closing my eyes.
He reached over my body and danced his fingertips along the pattern of metal. With every touch I had to keep myself from jumping. I could feel even the whisper of the air moving over my skin as his hands took in his work.
This was the most staples he'd ever put in me. And I knew there was only a few more breaths before the wave of pain and pleasure would arrive.
"Ready?"
I inhaled. Gritted my teeth.
"Yes."
I felt him lift up on the ends of the ribbon, which he'd placed above each breast. The moment was about to happen.
But as he lifted, he didn't jerk. Didn't yank. Just lifted, pulled, harder and harder yes, but slowly. I felt my skin stretch as he raised me up, up. I felt my spine compress as I tried to rise with his hands. At a certain point, though, all I could do was hold still. Take in the sensation.
Pop.
The first two staples at the ends of the ribbon released. I muffled a cry, but I knew he heard it anyway.
His hands remained high, pulling at the next pair of staples. Keeping my chest arched up towards the heavens.
Pop.
The next two staples partially broke free of my skin. I felt the jerk of the ribbon on the next pair, and tried to quiet a shriek. I could feel the smile on his face, seeing me endure his torture.
He lifted the right side higher now. My chest contorted, trying to alleviate some of the pain.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Three more staples broke free. A tear for each slid down my cheeks. He bowed his head and lapped up the droplets.
The ribbon no longer crossed on itself, looking now like an angled number six.
"Fast or slow?"
He'd never given me a choice before. He'd never put this many staples in me before, either. Fifteen little pieces of metal in my body. Fifteen little glints reflecting the light he shone on my skin. Eight more still had to be released from my flesh. Now I would decide how that would happen.
"Medium."
Even in my pain, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to be just a little bratty.
"Hmm," he said. I heard the amusement in his utterance.
He relaxed his hold on the ribbon. I relaxed my chest back down.
He ran his left arm across my neck, lifting my head up. His right hand held one end of the ribbon.
He pulled.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Each staple released as he jerked at the ribbon, jerked at my skin. My body reacted without my will. Staccato breaths on each pull. New tears on my face. Muffled weeps with each shock of pain. And finally, on the last staple, he held it. And held it. Just at the threshold of release.
"Beg me."
"Please. Please. Please hurt me. Take it out of me. Relish in my pain."
There was a split second where his grip relaxed. And then his arm swung out hard and the staple flew out of my skin. I screamed my pain. Cried into his arm.
He melted his body against mine. I felt his hard cock against my ass. He rubbed his cheek against my face and sighed his pleasure.
Even as I cried, my pussy throbbed from the pain and ecstasy of his art.
~ erotica ~
"What are you looking for tonight?"
He sat in seiza, black kimono and matching pants perfectly pressed, arranged just so. His face was plain.
"Something different."
"I have rope. You have your body. From there where would you like to go?"
"Hmm..."
You could always find him in the same spot every Friday night, on his personal mat, under the same suspension frame, ready and willing to tie all comers.
"Hemp, jute, or MFP?"
No one knew which he liked more. If he even had a preference. He was aloof, mysterious.
"MFP?"
"Humiliation?"
"Um. Yes?"
I really didn't know what I wanted. Didn't know what to expect from him. Had no idea how my night would go. But I knew he intrigued me, so why not push a boundary.
"Are your clothes destroyable?"
"Yes."
"All of it, down to your shoes."
"Ah."
"Take off your shoes."
I'd seen him tie all types.
"What is your safeword?"
"Red."
"Any play off limits? Any hot buttons?"
"Use safer sex supplies if the spirit so moves you. Otherwise, have at. I'm feeling very orange tonight."
Different bodies. Different genders. Levels of dynamic.
"Any health issues? Medications. Nagging pain. Stupid little things going on."
"Nope. I'm good."
Sometimes he was just the guy that took the pretty girl up and brought her back down.
"Last time you ate? Any alcohol?"
"Dinner about two hours ago, and no."
Sometimes he was sensual.
"Anyone I should talk to before we start? Any dynamics? Partners?"
Captivating.
"Nope. I'm single."
I loved to watch him play, however he played.
"Who do I contact if something goes wrong?"
"The DMs on duty are all my friends. They'll know what to do."
And, on the occasion, he was mean.
"Are you ready?"
Now those were the best.
"Yes."
"Good. Then we begin."
I don't know where the knife came from. Maybe the sleeve of his kimono. Maybe it was on the mat beside him but I just didn't see it. All I do know is that he sprung up, lightning fast, and was at my neck in an instant.
A hand in my hair. The blade against my skin. He traced the tip along my chin before gliding down. One quick flick. A small tear in my sundress. He released my hair. And then rip. My dress was spilt in two down the front. I wore no underwear. One more yank and the fabric was off of me. I was naked in a matter of seconds.
A knee to the back of my thigh had me on all fours on the mat. I heard the familiar soft thumps of a rope coil flung free. He wrenched my wrists from the mat. Tied them together by my lower back. Jerked up. Pulled on my hair. Attached the rope to my mane. Added in tension. More tension. Craned my neck back.
I looked up at him, nervous yet thrilled at what else he had in store.
He looked down on me, face still blank. Eyeing me as if he were puzzling something out.
He sunk down to his knees, his crotch inches from my face. Instinctively, I licked my lips.
"Do you require a condom for oral sex?"
"Not at all."
I eyed his crotch. The warmth from his slap lit up half my face. He grabbed my throat.
"Open."
I parted my lips. He pulled his cock out from his pants. Stroked it with his free hand. Was already quite hard. Teased his head near my mouth. Stayed just out of reach of my tongue.
"Let me lick it. Suck it. Enjoy it. You'll love it when I blow you."
This time his cock smacked my face. Once. Twice. Then he slammed his cock into my mouth. I gagged. Then relaxed my throat. Used my tongue a little. Moaned from having him inside my mouth. He didn't move his cock, just kept it there until I almost lost my breath.
He stood up. Looked down on me. Cock still hard and out.
And then he pissed all over my face. Into my hair. I turned my eyes away.
"No longer so talkative?"
I looked up at him. Rage. Pure rage. And lust. Carnal full body lust. I wanted him even more.
"No words are necessary when you're having fun."
I spat at him. Sprayed his piss and my spit onto his kimono. He was down, hand on my throat again.
"You're fun. More fun than the rest."
"So I've been told. Thank you."
His lips met mine. We kissed, our tongues almost fighting in the playful way young lovers sometimes do. I never imagined he could kiss that well.
He sat back. Reached over my body. Untied his rope. Rested in seiza in front of me. I didn't know what to say, so I said thank you. He closed his eyes, nodded. Looked on me.
I was high, a rush of hormones from the scene. He was more fun than even I dared hope. I lept up and was about to bop off to the shower when he tilted his head up and asked a simple question.
"Next Friday?"
"I'd love to. See you then, Xavier."
~ erotica ~
He had a curious grin on his face.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because it's you. It's actually you."
"You did read the model release form, correct?"
"Yeah."
"And my name was on the letterhead."
"Yeah, but. You don't think you'll actually meet the head of the company on your first audition."
Another one, fresh from the farm, looking for fame. How cute.
"First audition?"
"Yes Ma'am."
And he Ma'am-ed her.
"You do realize what kind of porn we make here?"
"You make all kinds of porn, Ma'am."
"Yes. What was your name?"
"Samuel."
"Of course. Yes Samuel, we make all kinds of porn for almost every genre."
"Then this is where I want to be."
"Really. Why?"
He seemed taken aback by her question. But then he stopped, gave it a few breaths of thought, and spoke.
"Ma'am, I left home because no one there could understand me. I grew up in a very strict religious household in a very closed off town that had one way of thinking and being. And that way was not who I was. I realized that pretty early on and kept quiet about it. But then I couldn't take it anymore, so I decided to just leave. Packed a bag and came here."
"Why here?"
"You're the reason why I found my courage. I found your stuff, clips of your porn on the Internet, and for the first time I realized I wasn't alone. Other people wanted, if I may be so crude as to say, the same kinds of dirty nasty downright wrong sex I dreamed of since I first starting jacking off. The kind I thought only I loved. The kind I knew, if I ever told anyone in my town, would have me beat or worse. To learn I wasn't alone. To learn there were other people, lots of other people like me. Of course I had to come."
For the first time, she looked at him. Really looked at him.
He was a cookie cutter image of down home raised 100% American red meat. Just what her audience would eat up. But there was also a genuineness in his eyes. He meant every word he said. Everything out of his mouth rang true.
Standing there, naked in front of her, lights shining on his tanned skin, completely naked, cock out for the world to see, yet this boy was comfortable. Relaxed even. A light went on in her head. There was possibility in this boy.
Still, she needed proof.
"You listed Anything Goes as your preferred porn category. Do you really mean that?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Until I yell Red, I'll take it all."
"Well, we don't have to start out with that today. How about just a test shoot. Are you up for that?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I'd love to."
"Good. Andre!"
She yelled for her assistant. He hurried into the room, latte in hand.
"Thank you, my love."
"He's cute," said the tall gay man.
"Indeed. Andre, darling. Take off your clothes."
"Ms. Hunt, I."
"Andre, you've been good to me this past year, learning everything I've taught you quite quickly. Up until this moment, your performance has been excellent. Do not disappoint me now. Take off your clothes."
Andre took pride in his wardrobe, dressing to fit his status as Sandra Hunt's right hand. Well balanced colors. Polished shoes. Silk ties. Removing his clothes felt dirty, beneath him. What he didn't realize was that Sandra was about to reward him for his work.
"Samuel."
"Yes, Ma'am."
There was a look in Samuel's eyes. His stare didn't leave Andre from the moment he walked into the room.
"Samuel, you are going to suck Andre's cock. He, as with all my employees, is regularly tested for STI's. You, by merely being here for this audition, have also been tested and come up clean. Are you comfortable sucking Andre's cock?"
And there it was. She saw it, plain as day. The way his eyes shot open. The lick of his lips, salivating over the idea of what was to happen next.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. Andre?"
"Yes, Ms. Hunt?"
"Stand next to Samuel."
Sandra turned and pressed record on the small digital camera a top a tripod beside her.
"Let's see. Andre, will you need a chair?"
"No, Ms. Hunt."
"Samuel, will you need a pillow for your knees?"
"No, Ma'am."
"Samuel, will this be the first cock you've ever sucked?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. Think of this as a lesson. One that will help you in your coming years."
Sandra glanced down at Samuel's cock. Whereas before it was barely at half staff, he was now standing a full attention.
"Samuel, first you'll want to stroke Andre's cock. Think of how you'd want your own cock touched, caressed. That's good. Now, don't forget the balls. Use both hands. Can you hear Andre, how his breathing's changed. That's what you want. That's how you know you're doing it right. You want to try to read to Andre's reactions. Listen to his body. His non-verbal cues. Also he may guide you with his hands. Andre."
"Yes. Yes, Ms. Hunt."
"Put your hand on Samuel's shoulder and push him down. Good Andre. Now Samuel. See how Andre's cock has grown a bit. He's becoming aroused. Do you like that, knowing it's you who's making this happen?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Are you ready to take him in your mouth?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. First, lick your lips. I imagine your mouth is already wet, salivating even, at the idea of Andre's cock in it. Start out with just licking the tip. Good. All around it. Now close your lips around the head. Be sure to cover your teeth with your lips. Now stroke his cock with your mouth. Up and down. Up and down. All along his shaft. How deep can you get him in your mouth? Can you take more of him? More? You feel Andre's fingers in your hair. He'll guide you. Glide you along his cock. Encourage his cock deeper into your throat. Do you like that? How Andre is using you. Making you take his cock. Making you take all of him. Fucking your face."
Sandra didn't know how far Samuel would go. Didn't know yet how far she could push him. But the thought of this fresh face, his fresh mouth, his cherry ass, and all the money she could make off of him made even the harden Sandra Hunt quiver at the thought.
~ erotica ~
Our best fucks always happened after fights.
We'd start off screaming about something in the living room and soon find ourselves naked in the bedroom, though often we didn't get that far.
Occasionally we'd begin ripping each others clothes off while still in the middle of the argument. Those were fun.
Aggression was not our normal modus operandi. He was sweet, too sweet, when it came to sex. Gentle caresses along my flesh. Soft strokes of his cock in my cunt. Constantly checking in. Worried he might hurt me. Kind and considerate and boring as shit.
That is, until we really lit into each other. Or, more accurately, when I really lit into him. Then he didn't care. Pounded my pussy til I was sore. Pulled my hair. Bit and scratched and flung me this way or that. It was the best sex, the fucking I always wanted.
Towards the end, I started picking fights all the time. Made things up. Got on him about trash or dishes or bills, anything I could think of to get him angry and his mad cock inside me. Since I knew the end was coming, I wanted to be cuming as much as I could before we were done. I was going to miss his hate fucking.
It wasn't the fighting that ended us. It was his sweet manner.
He didn't take control. Didn't stand up for himself. Didn't make his needs known, unless I started yelling. He didn't tell me how much he hated his job. Hated the part of the city we lived in. Hated the ways I picked on him. Even hated my dog. Turns out he's allergic; never mentioned that before he moved in.
When he finally blew up at me, he told me all the things he should've been saying from the start. I wondered why he'd been my boyfriend in the first place.
And then we had our final fuck. Took me right there on the dining room table.
The thing that set him off: dinner. Pizza. White pizza with extra basil. He wasn't a fan of basil. Thought it too aromatic, over powering.
"Should've ordered it yourself," I said, flopping open the box. The savory smell filled my nostrils.
And then he was on me. First I was bent over the table. And then I was on the table, legs spread wide. He used the belt around my dress to drive my pussy onto his cock, fucking me with the ferocity I loved. He put his hand around my neck and growled while he took me. My hands circled his wrist, and I smiled and moaned while he ravaged me. I loved every minute of it.
When he came, he pulled my face down onto his cock and I swallow it all. Then he slumped over, panting, and finally said it.
"I hate fighting. I hate being this guy you want. I can't fight you anymore."
And he walked away.
~ erotica ~
"Turn your ass towards the camera."
She did as she was told.
"Spread your cheeks. Wider. I want to see your asshole before I fill it."
She didn't like this angle. She wanted to see her Master, glimpse his face on the screen as he ordered her around. Still, she always did as she was told.
"Have you been training like to I instructed?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Because if you haven't this will not be fun for you. We both know, no matter what, this is going to be fun for me. Go get the package I sent you."
"Yes, Master."
She scurried across her room, picked up the box, and placed it on the bed.
"Open it."
She tore at the packaging. Inside was filled with tissue paper. Lifting the delicate wrapping, she saw it.
"Master?"
"Get the bottle of lube."
It sat on her end table.
"Turn your ass towards me. Spread your cheek with one hand. Lube up my pretty little hole with the other."
It was his hole, his mouth, his body, to be used in anyway he saw fit. She remembered that, loved that, as she pumped lube onto her fingertips and caressed her opening for him to watch.
"More. Good. Stick a finger in. That's it. Shove some more lube inside. You'll need it next."
She did as she was told.
"Now pick it up."
It was heavy, which made sense. It was big. Bigger than she'd ever taken before.
"Lube all around it."
It looked like a freakishly large tear drop. She thought this ironic. She was sure there would soon be tears.
"Now bring the tip to my hole. Keep spreading your cheek with your other hand. Is the tip against my hole?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Push."
It was as she knew, at first. The familiar relaxation, letting go, letting something in. Only it kept getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger. She eased it in slowly, asshole spreading, as her Master watched and spoke.
"That's my good little slut, getting her asshole spread wide open for her Master. Filling my hole to the brim.
"How does it feel, my little slut? To have something of mine in you. To feel it slide into your ass. Filling your hole. I want to see you take it. Take all of it. All of it. Me filling you to the brim."
She worked it in slowly, an eighth of an inch at a time. Breathing. Relaxing. With his voice, imaging it was his hand pushing the plug into her. His slow movement, filling her ass up.
"Fuck!"
It was in. All the way in. Her ass stretched more and filled fuller than ever before.
Her eyes were soaked with tears she willed herself not to cry. Her body shivered from the over stimulation, wanting desperately to cum.
"Master, may I?"
"My little slut took all of it. Sucked my plug into her ass just like I told her too. Turn around, I want to see your face. Are those tears?"
"Yes, Master."
"From the endurance?"
"Yes, Master."
"You are going to endure a bit more for me. Position five."
She paused for a moment before accepting his command. Lifting her torso up, she sat back, her ass against her feet, her hands on her thighs. She tried her best not to groan as her own body weight pushed the plug in just a little farther.
"Good, my little slut. Position six."
She tucked her toes under, lifting her body up just a little. She spread her knees, showing her Master her slut pussy. She interlocked her fingers behind her head. Sat back on her heels.
"Good, my little slut. Play with your clit."
She licked her fingertips and began rubbing herself. Her body could barely take any more sensation. But she pushed through. She would do anything her Master wished.
"I want to see my plug in you. Position seven."
She turned, ass up in the air, back arched, arms stretched out in front as her tits tickled against her bed spread.
"Did I tell you to stop playing with yourself?"
"No Master."
Her hand went back to her clit.
"Start hitting my plug with your other hand."
She was forced to balance her body on her face and shoulders, but she didn't care. Every inch of her body was energized, fueled by her Master's cruel lust. She slapped the plug's base while playing with herself, her ass and pussy right in front of the camera for her Master to see. She moaned despite herself.
"My little slut."
"Yes, Master."
"Cum."
She gasped. Bit her bed spread. Rubbed her clit faster. Slapped her plug harder. Panted. Her body convulsed. She screamed, "Thank you Master. Thank you Master." And came as her Master watched.
When she finished, she sat in front of the laptop in position five, plug still delightfully inside her.
"My little slut, it's getting late. I have to go to bed, and so do you. But before we part, position seven."
She turned and stretched out her body.
"Now, relax and pull out my plug. Slowly. Just as slowly as when I ordered it into your body."
She gripped the base and eased out the teardrop. New tears entered her eyes as the plug left her ass. Her Master was leaving her body. Taking away that piece of him she'd accepted into herself. She worked the toy out, trying to enjoy each minuscule sensation as it exited her ass.
When gone from her hole, she returned to position five, plug in hand.
"You will do this every third night for two weeks, just as we have just done. My plug in. You playing with yourself. Cuming. And then pulling my plug out."
"Yes, Master."
"And you will remember whose name to scream, who to thank each time my plug is filling you up and making you cum?"
"Yes, Master."
"Until next time, my little slut, when on the fifteenth day I will be there in the flesh, and it will be my hand penetrating you."
~ erotica ~
"How was your test?"
"Brutal."
"I thought college was suppose to be about learning. This shit feels more like torture."
"Indeed."
~
"When examining the works of. Of. Copley. When examining his portraits. On the whole. One sees. Oh God."
"This is not religion class, Ms. Lane. And though Copley's work is magnificent, I do not believe anyone has seen God in his art. Start again."
"Yes, Mr. Cecil."
Penny bit her lip, gripped the edge of his desk, and dung in her nails. Mr. Cecil knelt down and again pressed his lips onto Penny's clit.
"When examining the portraits. Mmm. Of. Mmm. Of Copley. One sees. One sees his exper. His exper. His expertise. In capturing. Detail. Form. And the human fa-a-ace."
Penny's voice rose an octave as her hips tilted up.
"The human face, you say?" said Mr. Cecil through teeth gripping Penny's mons.
"Yes. Sir. His a-bil-i-ty. To paint. Life. Like. Portraits. Surpassed. His. Con-tem-por-ar-ries."
Mr. Cecil relaxed his teeth.
"Can you give an example of this skill?"
"Yes, Sir."
Mr. Cecil resumed enjoying Penny's pussy.
"Copley was so. So detailed. In his work!"
Mr. Cecil slid two fingers into Penny's pretty pussy.
"So detailed, Ms. Lane?"
"So detailed! That portraits. Featuring! Men wearing. Formal white wigs! Include. Include powder. From. From their. From their wigs. Kissing."
"Kissing?"
Mr. Cecil stood, wrapped his free arm around Penny's neck, and pivoted her body up. As he brought his lips to Penny's mouth, embracing his ever eager student, he pistoned his fingers in and out of her hot pussy. Penny squealed, tasting her pussy on her mentor's lips, on his tongue, in his mouth, and cuming on his hand.
Mr. Cecil grabbed Penny's hair, tilted her head back, and said, "Kissing?"
"Kissing their shoulders."
"Very good, Ms. Lane. A+ on your oral exam."
~ erotica ~
{Trigger Warning: This is a rape fantasy.}
I carried my backpack over my shoulder, beleaguered from my long day and night's work. Though there were few contents, it still felt heavy, weighing me down as I tried to walk home.
I knew this path, this way I took every day or night. My long hours dulled my mind, but I could never forget the way home. Down two blocks, turn left. Pass the cheap gas station where beggars asked for change during the warmer days. No need to avoid the fried chicken and lake trout restaurant across the street, whose aromas often tempted me. Right after the corner store; too late to stop in for a few groceries. Five blocks more, and then home.
My feet moved without me thinking. My mind didn't register the actual short length, instead feeling my fifteen minute walk as a labor.
I loved these streets, the people in the them, the neighborhood which I adopted and the inhabitants who accepted me.
So I knew it wasn't one of them who did it.
Not Mr. Brown, who swept his front stoop every Sunday, watered his flowers in his window box every other day, and was the first to have his trash and recycling out, ordered and more neat than refuse should be.
It wasn't Dobs or Karl, the vets who rested their bones on the sidewalk in front of the gas station from March to September, and only asked for a little help when I could.
It wasn't Ms. Crystal, who owned the restaurant, and always wanted to put good food in my belly and a smile on my face.
It wasn't the Asian family who ran the corner store, whose kids I'd seen grow up in the five years since I moved to this part of town.
It wasn't my neighbors, my community.
It happened after a particularly long day. Sixteen hours of work with few moments of rest. My whole body ached.
My steps were slow, my march home more strenuous then need be. My limbs moved out of will to rest, knowing at the end of my journey a bed and soft covers would soothe their pain.
I didn't notice the van as it approached. Didn't hear the door open. Didn't know a man got out behind me. Didn't know he had a knife, wore a mask, and stalked me for a block before he attacked.
First I felt the pull on my hair, craning my head back. Then there was the knife on my neck, the scratch, the few drops of blood. My hands gripped his arm. My bag hung from my elbow. He dragged me to the open door of the van. Pulled me in. Closed off what little light from the dark night was left.
There were four of them. One driving, because the van kept moving. One to hold my arms. Another to hold my legs. The last, my original attacker. They all wore masks. They all wore gloves, leather. Boots, too. I guessed they were military. They communicated without words. Their cruelty was precise.
One pulled away my bag, pulled down my pants and panties. One by my head used his knees to hold my arms. He tore open my shirt. A knife split my bra. In a matter of seconds, I was naked and open.
I was pinned with my back on a mattress. It didn't move as they worked.
I heard the ripe of condoms, and was shocked at a flash of relief.
The one by my head placed his hand over my throat. I felt a knife against my cheek. I knew what he would want.
The one by my ankles bent my knees. All three flipped me over.
The one by my head grabbed my hair. Lifted my head. Pushed open my jaw. He shoved his cock in my mouth. I gagged, but took it. Tears trickled down my face. He rubbed a gloved hand over my eyes. Then smacked my ass.
The one by my ankles gripped my hips. Lined up his cock. He drove his dick deep inside my cunt. My hands held onto the edge of the mattress. He pounded my pussy hard and fast.
The one at center used a gloved hand to stroke his cock. Rubbed his dick against my ass. Used a cold slick finger to probe my asshole.
The one in my cunt stopped, pulled out, moved back. The one at center took his place. His dick circled my asshole before pushing, pushing. Sliding all the way inside me. More tears.
He didn't fuck my ass. He followed the rhythm of the man by my head. Rocking his body with mine, cock slid in and out of my throat but remained in my ass.
Then I felt two sets of hands on my hips. Heard a gasp of pleasure. The man who invaded my pussy took refuge in the asshole of his friend.
They all followed a rhythm, a beat they knew well. I took them, accepted my fate.
When they were close, each rising to a crescendo together, the van stopped. I heard the driver's door open and close. In the time it took him to walk around, they all came, grunts and groans filling the small room.
The driver opened the side door. He pulled me out onto the sidewalk. Another flung my bag out.
All four men stood over me. I cowered, hiding my face from the dim light of the night, from their eyes. I felt the four streams of piss hit my back, my ass, my hair.
When they finished, they got back into their van and left.
I laid on the ground for a few breaths before raising my head to figure out where I was. At once, I knew. The small tree. The bike rack. The number on the building.
They discarded me at my front door.
~erotica~
Ever let your mind wander...
Ever ride public transportation, look at the people around you, and ponder what they're thinking about? Their shitty day? What they have planned for their night? The person sitting next to them? The person they want next to them? You?
Ever catch eyes with someone and question what they meant by their glance? Was it on purpose? By accident? Were they imagining you as they would have you, right there, on the dirty floor, not caring who watched? Were they envisioning you naked, waiting, wanting them? Were you their fantasy, attainable or ever elusive?
Ever notice some random looking at you? Checking you out. Up and down. As you stand and they sit. As you're reading or looking out the window. As you're far away from that bus or train, but they are there, right there, imagining who knows what about you.
Ever think about just going for it? Meeting their stare. Making your way over to them. Trying to look sexy as you avoid bumping into people or seats. Not taking your eyes off them. Looming above them. Or sitting close to them. And asking, flat out, "What are you thinking about?"
Ever have the balls to make the offer? Will it be their place or yours? Now? Right now? Is it before or after work? Is it cold, both of you bundled up, but enough figure showing to know you'll like what you see later? Is it warm, you both showing off the goods for any and everyone to see?
Ever been bold, daring? Guiding them up the stairs to your small apartment. Ignoring the looks of the neighbors as you pass in the hallway. Not caring that you weren't expecting a guest. Dropping your coat by the door. Your bag by the couch. Leaving the windows unshielded. Offering them a drink, no matter the time. Handing them their liquor. Throwing yours back. Leaving the glass or bottle or can on the counter. Slowly unbuttoning your shirt. Or sliding off your strap. Or pulling fabric up off your torso. Looking at them as if to say, "What are you waiting for?"
Ever get exactly what you want when you want it from a person you've just met? Their hands all over your body. Their tongue tracing the lines of your flesh. Kisses. Bites. Caresses. Sucking. Fucking. Never using names. Letting yourself go. Letting yourself be as nasty, carnal, ferocious, all-in as you've always dreamed.
Ever cum and not know what name to scream, who to thank, for your pleasure?
Ever just not give a fuck?
~ erotica ~
There were many words he could've used to describe it. Phallus was a strong choice, but to him it seemed too clinic. Shaft held gravitas but didn't match his style.
Instead he loved to call it his cock.
"You like it when my cock is jammed up inside you like that? My cockhead hitting your cervix. Pounding all up in your pussy."
"You want my cock in your mouth. You wanna suck this cock, swallow it down your throat."
"My cock is already hard for you, baby. Come on and get up on this cock."
He strutted when he used the word. Stood up straighter. Got a little harder whenever he uttered it. Cock worked well for him.
But, for me, I loved to call it his dick. There was just something about the way those four letters played on my tongue, pushed through my teeth, and spat out of my mouth.
"Fuck, I want your dick inside me. Pounding me. I miss it when you're dick isn't in my pussy."
"Please let me suck your dick. I want your dick in my mouth. I want to lick and suck your dick all night."
"I can feel how hard your dick is. Your dick is happy to see me."
When he let me play with it, when I was feeling whimsical and he was in a fun mood, I'd get eye to eye with his dick and whisper to it.
"That's a fun dick, isn't it. I think this dick likes it when I squeeze it, caress it. You like that, dick? You like it when I lick, right dick? This dick loves my lips, my mouth on it. You're my dick, aren't you? Your dick wants only me."
He'd smile, pat me on my head, and say, "Yeah babe, my cock is all yours."
I'd smile back and say, "Yay! Dick all for me."
Then my mouth would be on it, bobbing up and down, licking and sucking. His eyes would roll back. He'd start moaning. I'd reach down and rub my clit, pussy already wet and wanting. And neither of us cared who said what about anything.
~ erotica ~
The first time I asked you to fuck me was when we first met. You had this bright look in your eyes, a wide smile, and you shook my hand firmly when we were introduced. I found that refreshing. You were treating me as an equal, even though I was the new girl in the office, fresh out of grad school, full of hopes and dreams of saving the world.
It was a Monday afternoon. Karen, the head of HR, was showing me around the office and introducing me to people. You were only the third person I'd met, besides Karen and my cubicle-mate. You made me feel welcome, accepted.
The next time I asked you to fuck me was the very next day. I showed up to work in my nicest suit, the most professional thing I owned, and the most expensive, with a skirt that hugged my thighs and a blouse that was silkier than my sheets. I felt very professional, very adult, walking in that day. But you made me feel like a young girl, my heart a flutter at the sight of you.
I was trying to recall everyone's name, trying to remember faces from the tour Karen gave me. I stumbled often on my second day. But I remembered your name.
As I made my coffee in the break room, hoping the caffeine would kick start my brain, you came in to fill your water bottle. I looked over at you, said, "Good morning Brandon," and you smiled back and said, "Good morning Julie." I loved hearing you say my name.
I often imagine you whispering my name in my ear between kisses on my neck, my cheeks, your arms wrapped tight around me. You moaning my name into my ear as you first enter me. Screaming my name throughout the office as we cum while fucking on the floor under my cubicle.
We easily fell into a daily routine. Every morning I make my coffee, say "Good morning Brandon" to you as you fill your water bottle and say "Good morning Julie" to me, and silently, desperately, I ask you to "fuck me, please". But you never hear me.
~
My favorite, and worst, part of my day are the same: saying "Good morning" to you.
Since the first day I met you, and saw a blind optimism, a hope that you could do more than anyone ever had before, I took joy in just the sight of your sweetness.
But my joy was laced with an edge of caution. Too often I've met girls like you, fresh from grad school, with hope that, day-by-day, grew dimmer. Most didn't last past a year. I don't want to see you falter, don't want to see the glimmer in your eyes diminish.
Because a part of me wants your gaze, your joy, to be about me. I want your happiness to be given to me in a dark corner of the office, when everyone else is gone. Your blouse opened, skirt pushed up to your waist. I want to hear your hurried breathing with your back pushed against the cement wall of the lonely back stairwell, which no one ever uses. I want to kiss in your happiness, breathe in your hope, and give you back joy and ecstasy in kind. I want to be the reason you smile each morning.
Each morning, when I say "Good morning Julie", and I see your belief that you are doing something right, something good, a part of me wonders, dare I say hopes, that one day your joy will be because of me.
All I ever wish is that one day you will look at me while making your coffee, with a smile on your face and in your eyes, say, "Good morning, Brandon" , but add a "fuck me, please" to our daily routine.
~ erotica ~
The beginnings of this story happened while I was in bed at CatalystCon, awake Sunday morning, even though I didn't want to be, horny beyond reprieve, trying to find a way to calm my passion filled body and mind. Enjoy...
~
He hovered behind me, the heat of his body increasing the wetness of my sex. Leaning down, he hooked a finger into the skirt of my dress and slowly pulled up. Over my thighs. Over my ass. Passing by my non-existant panties. Finally resting at the cleft of my waist, where he stopped, and squeezed my pelvic bone. The instinctual sway of my hips came, and I deliciously, inadvertently, brushed my ass against his cock, which had since grown hard and thick below his towel.
I smelled the musk of his bath wash, felt the slight dampness of his skin through my dress. I had hoped to slip quietly out of his room before he finished bathing. I didn't want to make a big deal out of his kind gesture the evening before, didn't want to make the morning awkward, didn't want to reveal how much I wanted more than just kind gestures from him.
His hands traveled up over the cloth of my dress, caressing each curve as he traversed my body. This time he slipped his hands down from above, deftly unhooking my bra, but also unsecuring its straps. He slipped the undergarment from beneath my dress, and whispered into my ear, "You will not wear this today." I bit my lip, feeling a twinge of excitement in my loins from his words.
Bent over the bed, hands planted on the mattress, I expected, no hoped, no dreamed, no desired...
Fuck, I wanted him to fuck me from behind. I wanted his hand planted on my back pushing me down. I wanted his other hand in my hair pulling my head up and pounding my pussy senseless.
When I felt his hands against my thighs, encouraging my legs open, my newest fantasy seemed like it would soon be a reality.
But, instead, he knelt down, turned around, and sat on the floor, his back against the bed, positioning his face just away from my pussy lips, his mouth ready to taste my folds. He hooked his arms around my thighs and pulled my crotch towards his mouth.
First, I felt the kiss of his lips, and then came the flick of his tongue over my clit. I was grateful for the bed's support. My knees buckled from the pleasure, resting on each side of his head as he continued to devour me.
"Please, oh God, please. Please let me fuck your face. Please, please. Please may I fuck your face?"
He stopped eating my cunt, tilted his head up, caught my eye, and said more than I had hoped for in such few words.
"Don't ask; just do."
His mouth and tongue returned to my throbbing lips. I used my hips to rock against his face, circles and tilts gyrating my sex against his mouth. His eating grew more fervent, his nails sinking into my flesh, holding on tight to my thighs as he plunged himself into enjoying my sex.
I gripped the sheets, threw my head back, and screamed my ecstasy as my first orgasm riped through my body. And then another. And then another.
I fucked his face til my thighs ached, til my muscles shoke, til my pussy was sore, til my clit pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, til my skin was drenched in his spit and my cum.
~ erotica ~
I left my sandals on his back porch. I left the sliding glass door open, my wet foot prints across his wooden floor trailing behind me.
I dropped my shirt at the beginning of the hallway, my skirt at the end. I unhooked my bra and let it dangle at my fingertips as I slowly stepped into his bedroom.
Plush cream carpeting nestled in between my toes. I let my bra land at my feet as I stood on the edge of his bed, a tall wooden four post structure, nice and sturdy. I leaned against the carved and lacquered wood waiting for him.
Even in this Summer scorcher, I still felt his heat just behind me. One delicate fingertip started at my shoulder and trailed down my arm, then across my back, until hooking into my panties.
He knelt down, sliding them off as he descended. I stepped out of the fabric, which he held in his hand, playing with the pink silk.
As he stood, I turned to look at him. His eyes were hungry, starving. Pushing me down onto his bed, I knew he would take his nourishment from my body.
I landed on his down comforter, enveloped in the fabric; my sweat glued my skin to cover. My toes barely touched the ground, my hips half on half off the bed.
He was naked, his manhood hard and ready. But instead of taking me right there, he pushed my legs open and buried his face in my cunt.
I gasped, my hands finding their way to his auburn mane. With my panties still in his hand, he lifted my hips up, drinking all of my pussy in. My breath quickened as I bucked my hips, trying to fuck his face. His nails sunk into my skin as his tongue traversed my lips, my clit. His five o'clock shadow tickled my skin. I moaned and giggled, wanting nothing more than for him to never stop.
And then it started, the build up, the rising up to my ecstasy. Like a wave coming into the shore, the warmth grew in my body, gaining strength and breadth, until finally bursting forth, rippling out from my hips to my limbs, sweet warm pleasure surging throughout my body.
I screamed. I gripped his hair and screamed his name and moaned and cursed and loved each sweet moment of it.
When he stood, I sat up and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. I lapped up myself from his face, letting myself get lost in his embrace, until breathlessly I panted, "Now, it's my turn."
~ erotica ~
Sunlight shone through the large window in my room, breaking my night's rest with the brightness of the morning.
Even before the light annoyed my eyes open, I felt his body next to mine, his arm still across my middle, his hand still lightly holding onto my cunt, my head still nuzzled in the crook of his arm, and his heat still a comfort against my skin.
He'd slept over again. This was becoming a habit, or, dare I think it, a relationship. Still though, I liked having him around night, and day.
As I became aware of my body, I also felt the warmth in my loins, a side effect of him being here. His cock was semi hard, its flesh lightly grazing against the back of my thigh just under my ass.
He was still sleeping, his even breaths occasionally tickling my ear. I debated for but a moment before deciding how I would wake him.
I slowly reached my hand behind me, over his arm, inching my way towards his cock. My fingers lightly grazed at first, the most delicate of touches. His body responded, each touch I gave bringing more life to his loins.
And then I felt his fingers move. And his teeth bit my ear. And I realized his slumber had ended as well.
"Good morning," he whispered, before probing my pussy with his digits. My hips instinctively tipped up towards his hand with each of his movements.
"Good morning," I whispered back, gripping harder onto his now engorged cock.
Sloth like in our movements, he brought his body on top of mine as I moved under him, each of us never letting go of the other's sex until he slipped into me.
His strokes were smooth, deep, and measured. He thrust in, and then held himself there, letting me feel full of him, all of him. My hands gripped his ass. My legs locked behind his back. My cunt wanted nothing more than to always have his cock inside it.
He pulled out slowly, controlled, leaving just a slice of his tip inside me before again filling my pussy to the brim with his manhood. I could hardly take his torture, could hardly do anything except moan and bite his neck as his stroked my insides.
Gripping my ass much like I held onto his, he pivoted our bodies up to sitting on the bed. Gravity pushed him still further into me. Even as I buried my face in the crook of his neck, our hips rocked together, a slow movement that progressed us still closer and closer...
Until finally I came. My inner muscles gripped onto his cock as my teeth sunk deeper into his flesh. And as the warmth rolled throughout my body, he held me tight, and slipped himself out of me, spewing his warmth in between us. Hot sticky cum smeared on our bellies as we held each other.
Our breathing labored, I rose my head to his and kissed him. As our embrace ended, he remarked, "I'm hungry."
His hand pushed my body back down onto the bed. He began licking up his essence from my stomach, tickling my skin.
"I'm hungry too," I whined as he played with his tongue across my flesh. He reached his hand down to his stomach, skimmed us his cum, and brought my breakfast to my mouth.
As I ate, he said, "Now this is the way to start our day."
~ erotica ~
So many people. So many things happening. Equipment like I'd never seen before. Outfits, costumes, shoes, and boots that looked so glamorous yet so terrifying. Naked people flitting about. Fucking any and everywhere in whatever manner you could imagine.
And the things they used. The screams and wails coming from people's lips. I hadn't understood what I was getting myself into when I signed up for this event.
Was this really who I was? Was this really what I wanted?
I sat in my corner, a quiet little church mouse in the dungeon. I sat and watched, invisible to the fray. No one took notice of me. There were so many other spectacles to behold. I was safe there in my corner.
And then he came for me.
I noticed his approach from across the crowded room. His eyes were dark, a mixture of comforting and menacing. I felt like he could see through me, through my clothes into my flesh, through my head into my mind, from a hundred feet away.
With his each step closer towards me, my heart rate increased. I wanted to look away, wanted him to not see me, wanted to be invisible again. But he kept the contact, and kept moving towards me, til he finally stopped, standing legs astride and head tilted down to my upturned eyes.
With his body between myself and the dungeon, I felt shielded, closed off from the tumult that I feared. He reached down a hand, and I took it, standing up, my body now even closer to his.
He smelled of leather and musk. It was intoxicating, and I actually closed my eyes as I took in his scent.
The touch of his hand to my face shot my lids back open.
"Beautiful," he said, before caressing my lips with his own.
Again I closed my eyes, letting myself fall into him, kissing him, parting my lips and allowing our tongues to dance. I raised my hands to caress his face, his cheeks, his chin.
With a jolt, he gripped my biceps and pulled my lips from his.
"What do you want," he ask, fire in his eyes.
I was flabbergasted. I didn't know why I was even here, why I'd made the leap, bought the ticket, and walked into the dungeon that evening. I didn't know why he had found me, why we were kissing. How could I possibly know the answer to his question?
"What do you want?" He yelled now, demanding words leave my lips. Yet still, I didn't know what to say.
"What. Do you. Want?" He brought my face as close as he could to his, our noses almost touching, my eyes almost going cross. And then the words came.
"You. Yours. I want to be yours." I didn't know why I said it, but I knew it to be true.
That was why I was here. I didn't want to scream or cry or be hit. But what I did want, what I truly desired, they would all understand and accept. I wanted to be owned, to be someone's property.
A sexy yet scary smile crept across his face.
"Kneel."
I did as I was told, again finding my spot on the floor. He parted his leather kilt, and I saw his cock was quite hard. Looking up at him, he was looking down on me. And the fire that was in his eyes found a home my cunt now as I burned to service him in whatever way he wished.
My hands parted his leather and my mouth found his cock.
I at first played with the tip and licked up and down the shaft before taking all of him into my mouth. One of his hands found the back of my head and gripped my hair. As my lips rode up and down his cock, his push on the back of my head encouraged my movements.
My right hand found his balls and began to massage, but then his free hand gripped my wrist and brought my arm to behind my back. He then grabbed my left wrist and placed my left arm with my right. My hands gripped my wrists. My mouth was to do all the work.
Soon he merely held my head as he thrust into my mouth, his strokes growing faster. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Until he pulled himself from my mouth and came, spewing his cum into my hair. He mashed his essence into my locks, cleaning his hands with my strands.
For the first time that night, he knelt down and whispered into my ear.
"Now you will smell like my sex for the rest of the night."
He stood, looking down on me again. He gave me this smile, this knowing grin, before walking away back across the dungeon and disappearing into the crowd.
I hoped beyond hope that somehow during this weekend, among the classes and events and play, I would find him again.
And I did, the next night, in the dungeon.
