Some pizza, a pair of shoes, rope, rape play, and goodbyes.
The last installment of my Memorial Day Weekend adventure.
Category: Boots
-
Kidnapped
~ 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.
-
Baby Bootblack
I had more than my fair share of memorable moments and lesseons learned from this past Winter Fire, but one in particular has stuck with me: I will always schedule myself for the last bootblacking shift of an event.
The last two hours of my chair time at DO:WF were hectic, and challenging, and I would not trade them for the world. I can’t even tell you how many people sat in my chair. Person after person put their leather in my hands.
I was nervous at first, but when I saw the long list of people waiting, and it dawned on me the limited amount of time we had, I found myself dropping into a zone I had not felt before.
Fast forward to this past weekend at Frolicon. I scheduled myself for eight hours of blacking, two four hour shifts over the two days, one of which included the last shift of the event. My chair time was not as hectic as it had been in February, but it was still something altogether amazing.
Just a year ago, I was a novice bootblack. I sat and watched as Elegant worked, taking pointers from her wealth of experience. Previous to that event, I had only blacked for friends, never publicly. Elegant offered up her kit to me, and a new friend sat for me to black his boots. He took pictures I later posted to my Fet.
This past weekend could not have felt more different from last year. I was confident. I felt sure of my skills. No more nerves. No more fear. I sat in my chair and waited to perform my service.
As the last shift ended, after I’d had a couple dozen people cycle in and out of my care, I felt great. I packed up my supplies with a smile.
But my new found confidence was not the only reason for my happiness. As the last bootblack finished work on her last piece of leather, others gathered in the area. Her friends blocked the view right beside my stand. A person served as a table, holding boots to be gifted.
When the last bootblack finished, her friends parted. Her mentor spoke words for and about her. There were hugs and tears and cheers. The last bootblack was gifted a shiny pair of boots of her own, showing her progress in her craft, her care, her dedication to her work, all that she had learned over 14 months of instruction.
As her mentor laced up the new boots with pretty pink chord, I stood on the side of the circle, seeing all the faces of her friends. In that moment, I felt something stir inside me.
I wanted that, the community, the fidelity, the shared comradery of this group of folks in leather.
I am not where she is, nor have I had the training she’s had. Still, I am a bootblack (though maybe just a baby bootblack). Each time I sit down and work, I am learning. I am grateful for my haphazard training, for the many voices who’ve guided me along the way this past year and a half, and for those who will teach me more as I grow in my craft.
And I hope, one day, I too will have that moment of a gift of leather.
-
May I
~ erotica ~
“May I?”
He gave a small head nod in consent. I practically jumped up from my seat and scurried towards him, descending down to the floor, resting on my knees by his feet.
His boots were tall stiff leather that, over time, had come to meld closer to the shape of his calf. The very top of each boot ended just below his knee.
He had ladder-laced each boot to the top, cinched each tight, wrapped the lace around his calf, tied with a simple bow in the front, and tucked the excess lace in between the tongue and side of his boot.
I found the ends of one, bringing them back out to the front. Slowly, I pulled the bow lose, leaving just a simple overhand knot. Hooking my forefinger, I made just enough space for my digit to fit between his leather and the lace before languidly tugging the crossed fiber forward until the two pieces separated.
The half of the boot lace that weaved under his work I rested to the side of his boot. I gripped the other’s end and again used my forefinger to hook into the lace, slowly, intentionally pulling it through the eyelet, leaving just a fraction of its length at the end, creating a floppy U shape that dangled above the tongue.
This time, gripping the side of the U closest to the eyelet, I hooked my finger once more and pulled, sliding the lace through, leaving about four inches between the previous set of eyelets, and creating yet another floppy U. I repeated this process over and over and over again, working down his leg, til I came to the last set of eyelets.
Now, at the toe of his boot, I spread the sides of his leather apart, loosening the grip on his foot, creating the space he would soon need. Scooting myself forward, I wrapped my thighs around his leather and sat on his boot, my clit resting on his toe. With my head still tilted down, I cupped my hands in the back, gripping onto the heel.
“No.”
My head tilted up and saw his face. His eyes looked stern, but not upset. He directed my gaze to his other boot. It seemed his preferred process was different from how I’d been taught, but I was happy to appease his wishes however he wanted.
Unsettling my body from his boot, still on my knees, I scooted over to his other foot. Again, I found his tucked bow. Again, I took care in undoing the simple knot, as well as the initial loosening of the crossed lace. Again, I pulled through each eyelet in long measured strokes, taking care to run the lace against the leather in hopes that he felt the friction even through the barrier. Again, I came to his last set of eyelets, spread the sides of his boot, and loosened the leather to give room for his foot.
And, just as before, head down, my thighs hugged his boot, my hands cupped his heel, and my clit rested on his toe. I waited patiently for him to slip his foot from his boot.
But then I felt the gentle rock up and onto my clit. Felt his muscles flex beneath me. Felt as he slowly maneuvered his toe up and down, up and down.
My grip on his heel grew tighter. My thighs squeezed together. I tried to keep my breathing low and calm. I licked my lips, sighed, and then bit my lower lip.
Was this a test? Was this a tease? Either way, I knew what I wanted, what he drove me closer to with each flex of his foot.
“Please?” It was a whisper.
“No.” It was a command.I bit my lip harder. I rested my forehead against his shin.
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”He gripped my hair, tilted my head back, and looked into my eyes. There was a muted satisfaction in his gaze as he took in my wanting agony.
“Please, Sir?”
A wide grin broke across his face.
“Yes.”
He lifted his leg up hard multiple times as my body shaked before freeing his foot from his leather. He released my hair and I bent my head down, resting it against his boot. I picked up the loose laces and draped them inside of his boot before setting it to the side.
Again, I scooted over to his foot and placed my body as I knew he wished it, and as I so wanted it. This time he merely lifted his foot out; no reprisal of my ecstasy tonight. I draped the laces inside as before and set the second boot next to the first.
Still on my knees, I leaned over, resting my hands on the floor beside his leather. I licked the toe of each boot clean, and then kissed his boots.
-
An Excerpt
~ erotica ~
[Note: The following is an excerpt from my NaNoWriMo project. Enjoy…]
I knelt on the ground, my head bent down, naked, waiting. He told me to wait. Told me he would be back. But when he’d be back I did not know. The chain around my neck, and it’s lock by the top of my sternum, weighed heavily on my chest.When would he return? Would he return? Was this a test? All I wanted was my Daddy. All I wanted was his cock. On me. In me. My mouth. My ass. Wherever he wanted. I wanted my Daddy.
I heard footfalls, the familiar click clack of his boots on the wooden floor. Daddy was coming. Daddy was back. Daddy was home.
He opened the door and closed it behind him. I didn’t look. I knew he didn’t want me to look, knew he liked it when I just waited, same as he had left me, same as he wanted me, on my knees, hands on my thighs, head bent in supplication to him.
I heard the click clack as he walked to his chair right in front of me. Out of my periphery I saw those familiar boots, and those familiar chaps. I smelled his cologne. Even from those few feet away, I felt his heat. My Daddy was ready for me, wanted me, needed me. And his boy needed him too.
“Stand.”
I curved my toes under and glided up, my head still bent.
“Look at me.”
And, finally, I saw his face. His salt and pepper beard. His sky blue eyes. His jet black hair.
“I missed my boy.”
“I missed you too, Daddy.”
“At my knee.”I rushed towards him, gripped his leg tight, and rested my head at his knee. He caressed my head, his leather gloved hands in my hair. My head instinctively leaned into his touch, leaned into each stroke of his hand.
And then came the grip. He held onto my hair and pulled my face towards his. With his free hand, he unzipped his jeans which he wore under his chaps. Out came his massive and hard cock, the cock I had so missed, that cock that would soon be inside me.
Daddy pushed my mouth onto his cock, all the way in, down my throat. I gagged at first, but made myself relax. My Daddy was in me again. I couldn’t be happier.
He pulled on my hair, moving my head back and forth on his cock. Stroke, stroke, hold. Stroke, stroke, hold. Daddy had taught me how he liked his cock sucked, taught me how he would use my body for his pleasure.
Once he pulled them out, my hands eased up to my Daddy’s balls. With each pause at the back of my throat I was to squeeze as hard as I could. This meant my Daddy would soon cum. My Daddy loved it when I squeezed his balls.
Stroke, Stroke, hold/squeeze. Stroke, stroke, hold/squeeze. He grew faster with the rhythm, faster and deeper in my throat. I gripped harder and harder, so much that my hands hurt, but I didn’t care. It was what my Daddy wanted, what my Daddy needed, and I would do anything for his pleasure.
And then it came, my Daddy’s grunts as he spewed into my mouth; warm cum filled me. I love the taste of my Daddy’s cum, love it when he cums in me, in my mouth, in my ass, just in me.
Pulling me up by my hair, my Daddy encircled his arms around me as he kissed me, licking his cum from my tongue, filling my mouth now with his own tongue. Oh how I missed him, his dick, his tongue, his cum, my Daddy all in me.
But he wasn’t done yet.
As my Daddy lapped at his cum in my mouth, one of his hands now gripped one of my ass cheeks and a finger played with my asshole. My Daddy was especially horny and wanted yet more of me. I leaned my ass back into his touch, wanting more than just his finger playing with it.
And then I was turned around, bent over, my hands on the floor. Daddy gripped my hips and pulled my ass into his mouth, licking and lapping at my hole. He spit into my crack. He licked and sucked all he wanted.
His first ungloved finger slid in and I gasped from the surprise and the sensation. A moment later, after working me good, his second slid in. Daddy was opening me up good and wide. Sure enough, his third finger soon followed.
I breathed. I screamed. I cried my pleasure as my Daddy stuck in a forth finger deep inside me. Daddy was going to do it. Daddy was going to give me my greatest pleasure, my favorite pleasure.
A moment later, my Daddy’s full fist slid inside my ass. “Yes!” I moaned as Daddy began pumping his hand in my ass, ramming me hard. He punched my prostate, bracing his arm in front of my thigh both so that I wouldn’t fall but also to give him extra leverage, extra pushing as he pummeled my insides how I loved.
With his hand so close to my crotch, he soon began stroking my cock as well. It was so much, oh so much pleasure as my Daddy fucked me right. And then, oh my god, and then Daddy bent down and started sucking my balls too. I could barely stand, could barely think of anything but all the sensations, all the pleasures running through my body.
“Daddy, please! Oh god, Daddy please!”
“No!”Daddy pounded my ass harder, squeezed my cock firmer, and lapped at my balls even more.
“Please please please, Daddy! Oh god, please let me cum. Please Daddy, I want cum for you. I want to cum for you. Please!”
“No!”Daddy sucked both my balls into his mouth, held his knuckles against my prostate, rotating around, and gripped the base of the shaft of my cock.
“Fuck! Daddy, please! Please!”
“Cum!”The world went tumbling as Daddy flipped me onto my back, my cum racing from my body into his mouth, onto his face, lapped up and on him. He used his hand to milk my cock, pulling every last bit of cum out of me for him to enjoy.
Daddy slowly eased his fist out, then brought his face to mine. His kissed me softly as I tasted myself on him. He let me lick his face, lick my cum off of him, before kissing it from my lips again.
His hand caressed my cheek, then cradled my neck, lifting me up off the ground. He softly placed my head back by his knee where I rested, waited, happy to have my Daddy back home.
-
A Good Time
It was Friday night at Rope Camp.
Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate was winding down; fewer than a dozen people remained in the Pavilion, though we all stood around smiling and chatting, still enjoying each others company.
The social had gone well. Even though I arrived late. Even though I had to run back to the cabin for supplies. Even though I didn’t black one boot. There was laughing, good conversation, chocolate, some whiskey, and of course cigars.
Funny enough, there was also coconut rope.
As per Gray’s standing request, whenever I took his ash into my mouth, my boobies had to be out. For this particular evening I wore my black-top-gray-skirt dress and was easily able to free my chest for his amusement.
But somewhere during the social he decided he wanted me in coconut rope. Dictating that I should just pull my entire torso out from my outfit, I pushed my dress down to my waist.
And then came the rope.
He wound it around my chest, over my nipples, secured it under my piercings, and placed knots in wicked spots all over. Just wearing coconut rope is a predicament in itself. You feel it dig in with each and every breath.
Throughout the evening, the attendees of the gathering would approach me with one of two requests: may I touch it or may I pull on it. I granted both, either slipping into to teaching mode or willing bottom space.
To make up for the lack of bootblacking at the get together, Gray instructed me to lie on the floor of the Pavilion. Then he and Rough provided the necessary boot action by suffering my body with their leather.
Both men stood on my body in various places (back, thighs, hair) and marveled at my ability to take all their weight with my flesh. Gray also thought it fun to kick my crotch. But as I laid on the floor, Rough’s boots on my hair, and the toe of Gray’s boot occasionally connecting with my cunt, I heard laughter from the attendees. As I learned later, Gray decided to dance in between his crotch shots.
When I stood, I let both men in on a small detail they failed to realize: with each of their movements, my nipples rubbed up against the floor. Not only did I feel their leather bound blows, I also contended with the abrasions of the rope and the floor. Personally, I think I was bad ass to have taken so much.
With just over half a dozen people left, Gray removed my box tie. And oh, it hurt just as much coming off as it did going on. Gray made sure of that. Gliding the rope along my skin, whipping my body around, push and pull. If ever there was any doubt, yes Gray is most definitely a Sadist.
When finally the last inch of rope was gone from my body, he rubbed all over my skin. I slumped forward, relieved at the soft and caring touch.
However, with my coconut rope gone, I now felt the cool of the evening. I pulled my dress back up and slipped on my jacket. Our small group continued to chat.
I don’t remember how we got on this topic, but there was one conversation exchange I will not forget.
“How about making a bottom cum til they pass out,” someone suggested.
“No,” Rough argued. “How about making me cum until I pass out.” I grazed Rough’s left bicep. He turned to me.
“Hi,” I said with a wink and a smile. Everyone burst out laughing.
And then it happened, my last highlight of the get together.
To end the evening, and once again I don’t remember how this happened, but somehow we all ended up in a group hug coalescing around Rough. I stood behind him, my face on his back.
And then people, while still in the hug, started hurting me.
Rough stepped back, pressing the heel of his boot on the top of my right foot. And Elf pinched the back of my neck, right where he had bitten me before. And another pinched my left arm. And I think Gray went for a pressure point on the right side of my jar. I can’t really be certain because my eyes were closed for almost all of this, but fuck did it hurt.
My face sunk into Rough’s back as new sensation after new sensation took hold. I screamed and yelped as they all laughed and enjoyed my pain.
And yet, we were all still hugging, throughout the entire time. It was funny and odd and… something. Something.
A good time. It was a good time.
-
Care
It was the simplest movement, the simplest motion. A submissive sat with her head on her Dom’s knee. Then lightly, gently, she brushed her cheek against his knee. That was all it took to bring me to tears.
I quietly snuck my way downstairs, located the bathroom, leaned against the wall, and cried.
I wanted that. I missed that. I yearned for that.
Something so simple as my head on a knee, such slight affection. I had, for some time, forgotten how much I loved that, how much I ached for it each day.
I let myself cry, letting my sorrow spill out. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at my eyes, wiping away my tears. I took a breath. I let myself cry again.
And then I regained my composure. I contemplated leaving the gathering, but I knew that would only make my heart hurt worse. Instead I steeled my resolve. This place was full of friends. I would be okay.
Slowly easing back upstairs, I again stayed on the periphery of the gathering. Looking over to my left, I saw a woman sitting on the floor working on a pair of leather shoes. She used products and techniques I had no seen before. Curious, I sat in a nearby chair and watched her work.
And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Poetic, can you let down your hair.” My curls were pulled up in a tight bun. I pulled off my hair tie.
“Come with me.” I followed Scotty to the adjoining lounge area.Standing in the spot where he led me, I was surrounded by Scotty and three other friends. My head bent, their bodies close to mine, they all blew smoke into my hair, over and over again. And just like that, I felt better.
Relaxed, I nestled on the floor. PrincessA sat in a chair behind me. Softly, tenderly, she caressed my head and pulled on my hair. I let myself float on the feeling of her hands in my curls.
As I sat, having falling into the atmosphere of the gathering, a friend asked if I would black their boots. For a tip, their girl offered up his ashes to me. I assured her she did not need to tip me, but she insisted all the same. I accepted her gesture with gratitude.
As I worked on his leather, I took my time, giving care and attention to his boots. He blew smoke into my hair and onto my skin. After I finished, he and his girl thanked me for my efforts, saying his boots looked almost new. He then offered up his ash as my compensation. I ate it from his hand gratefully.
Finished with my first pair of boots, I turned to PrincessA and worked on her leather. As I gave her boots attention, I realized I felt right again. Whereas before I had been sorrowful, dejected, once again I felt the care and love of my friends. I felt like I belonged.
-
Another One
~ Sunday afternoon at The Floating World ~
I first noticed him during a class. He sat a few rows behind me.
I happened to turn around and glance towards him. I first saw his boots. And then, slowly, up trailed my eyes, taking in the head-to-toe leather. Finally I saw the soft smile on his stern face, his gaze not on me.
I made myself turn towards the front. I knew it, as soon as I saw him.
Shit, another one. He was a leatherman.
When class ended, I walked out into the hallway, avoiding the incredible urge to go say hi to him.
It was the last day, and I was about to go to my last class.
I passed Lynk in the hall, and doubled checked where Sadistic Massage would be held. He pointed me towards a nearby room. I sat down my things and wandered about the convention center during the break as the classes turned over.
I stopped by the bootblacking station, checking in with D3 and rabbit to see how they were fairing. Few pairs of boots had graced their seats that day.
Wandering back towards my class, there he was. He stood, showing off his cricket bat to a man I did not know.
Meh, I thought. Why the fuck not?
I slowly approached him and lightly touched his shoulder. He turned, looked at me, and smiled.
“Hi. I just wanted to say your cricket bat looks awesome. I have a friend who uses one for play, and it’s a lot of fun.”
“Why thank you.”
“I’m poetic.”
He introduced himself. I smiled wide.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You say your friend uses a cricket bat?”
“Yes. In fact for my birthday, during my birthday spankings, I got hit with his cricket bat. And a pool stick. And a hockey stick.”
“Really?”
“I like pain. May I look at your bat?”
“Sure.”
He showed it off to me.
“Yours looks rougher than his.”
“Ah, his is finished.”
“Finished?”
“Laquered.”
“Yes. And stingy as a hell. Well, I have to go. Class.”
“Which one are you attending?”
“Sadistic Massage with Lynk. It’s happening right over there.”
“Sadistic Massage? I may see you in there.”
“That would be nice. Well, it was nice meeting you.”
I smiled, turned, and walked away.
Fuck me; another one.
I am such a sucker for a man in leather. -
My Toy
~erotica~
He wore just a plain white jock strap and his mid calf boots. He knelt before me, head bent in supplication.
I stood, looking down on this toy for me to play with.
I could tell he was staring at my leather, a pair of boots ladder laced up the front in red, their end just below my knee. The legs of my black cargo pants were stuffed down the leather. My black t-shirt stuck to my skin, the sweat of the day’s heat exploding on my back.
I stripped off my shirt, but still wore a white tank top underneath. My breasts were bound against my chest. I was in a very un-girly mood that day.
I unbuckled my belt, letting its opening dangle at my front. I hadn’t decided yet just how I was going to play with my toy.
I saw him twitch when he heard me undo my belt, and again when he heard the sound of my zipper’s opening.
“Take it out.”
He tilted up his head, his stare now fixed on my crotch. His hands pushed aside the slit in my boxers and pulled out my black cock, which I’d packed just for him.I knew he liked the black one more than any other of my rainbow assortment I had at home. The length and circumference were perfect for his mouth.
He licked his lips when he saw it.
“You have a mouth; why aren’t you using it?”
My hand on the back of his head, I shoved my cock down his throat. He gagged for a moment, then began hungrily bobbing his head up and down my shaft. He was such a piggy when it came to sucking my cock.
Each of his downward strokes hit me just right, increasing my arousal. I didn’t care that by the end of this, my boxers would be soaking wet.
“Gotta get it all nice and lathered up, my little cock slut. It’s going in your ass tonight.”
His eyes lids flared opened, a mixture of fear and excitement beaming up at me.
“Is it wet enough my little cock slut? Do you want it in your ass now?”
He vigorously nodding his head yes.
“No, I don’t think so. I only heard you gag that one time. I don’t think you really want it.”
His sucking grew even more desperate. I could feel my cock hit the back of his throat. He gagged with each of his strokes now.
“My little whore, wanting it so bad in the ass. I think you’ve earned it.”
I pulled his face off my cock and looked him dead in the eye.
“Hands and knees. Face down, ass up.”
He quickly turned around and presented himself. I knelt behind him.
I brushed my cock against his asshole, teasing him at first. I heard his desperate whine.
With one good push, I slid in the head. He let out a sigh. I then thrust my hips hard, deep into his ass. He yelped and pushed back, his ass hungry for my cock.
I stroked his head, bent down, and whispered into his ear, “Such a good little cock slut.” I could hear the smile form on his face.
I fucked him hard, pounding my cock into his ass. I grabbed his jock and ass for leverage and rode him harder still. I bent down and bit his ass, a hunk of meat for my tasting. He pushed back with all my strokes, wanting as much of my cock as would fit in him.
As I felt my arousal surging, I increased my strokes. Even with my quickened pace, he kept up.
“What do you say when someone fucks you right little cock slut? What do you say when someone rides your ass hard, pounding their cock into you?”
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
“What!?!”
“THANK YOU….!”
He screamed as he came, obscenities falling from his lips.
When I came, I dug my nails into his ass, sunk my teeth in once again, and slumped on top of my toy.My little whore had done well.