poeticdesires

Category: D3

  • On Top

    ~ Friday night at The Floating World ~

    “I don’t know which I like better: sucking your tongue or sucking your cock.” – D3
    “Good thing you don’t have to choose.” – me
    “Good answer.” – D3

    I felt powerful. I was in control. Not only was I the Top, I was the Domme. It was… amazing.

    I was nervous, very nervous. I bought the strap-on thinking maybe. Maybe I’ll get to use this. Maybe he’ll want to suck my cock. Maybe.

    It was flimsy, purple (not my color), but I wasn’t willing to risk a large amount of money on a maybe. 

    I bought a new dildo for it, choosing one that if I didn’t grow the balls, if I never brought it up, I would still like having the new dick in my repertoire of sex toys.

    And then we ending up on the futon.

    I’d already suspended him. He wore only his boxers and his boots. My dress (cotton with a black top connected to a gray skirt) and boots remained on.

    As he had floated in the air, I’d gotten my face down to his level. I’d asked him how he felt. He was flying high.

    We kissed. He was in my ropes. His lips were against mine. I expected no more for my night.

    But then we were on the futon. 

    And he was free of my ropes. And we were kissing. And I looked into his eyes, so close to mine that I could see my reflection.

    And I said, “I can see my reflection in your eyes.”
    And he said, “You know what I can see in your eyes? You wearing your strap-on and me sucking it.”

    And that was it.

    I grabbed the harness, put it on, tightened it as best I could, and attached the dildo. I pulled out a condom and handed it to him. He slid it down my cock.

    My ass on a chuck, he closed his lips around my cock and began sucking. He gagged. Oh, he gagged. His eyes were locked on me. Lines of saliva dripped from his lips.

    I bridged my hips up, fucking his face. I called him my cock slut. I said he loved the feel of my cock in his throat.

    There was a hunger, a need in his eyes. My hand on the back of his head, I pushed lightly. That was my mouth and I wanted to fuck it right.

    Bucking my hips. Stroking his head. I got my first strap-on blow job.

  • Dirty Pig Moments

    It was raining only a little, ever so lightly, as D3 and I setup our space.

    As we sat, waiting for anyone to sit in our chairs, Chey came over and sat in my seat. She wore shoes and didn’t want them blacked. But she did need them cleaned, having walked through the dirt and mud throughout her Sunday.

    I used my saddle soap and towel to clean off her shoes, giving extra attention to massaging her foot as I worked.

    Once finished, I turned back around in anticipation of the show.

    “May I play with your hair?”

    I gave my permission. She softly pet my mane, lacing her fingers through my strands. Quite quickly I was in my happy floaty place.

    “I love your hair.”

    I loved her hands in my hair.

    ~

    “Have any of you heard of the red and blue parade?”

    I sat on a piece of fabric on the ground. D3 and I had setup a bootblack station on the side of the small hill next to the Barn stage. He worked on a difficult pair of boots; aside from Chey, I had no customers for my evening.

    SherynB, who was hosting the Dirty Pig Leather Contest, was stalling for time. Contestants needed to prep for their pop fantasies, and, with over a hundred people watching, time needed to be killed.

    “I want you to come up here and show us your bruises.”

    She didn’t need to tell me twice.

    I popped up off the fabric and galloped onto the stage. 

    However, someone had beat me to the limelight. I stood upstage as Sheryn asked them how they’d received their marks.

    And then it was my turn.

    I stepped to downstage center, lifted my dress up above my cleavage, took two steps to my left, twirled, and then walked back to SherynB, who asked me the obligatory question.

    “Well Monday night was biting while fisting, as well as Tuesday morning. I had an interrogation, a kidnapping…”
    “Ladies and gentleman, Dirty Pig contestant number six!”

    My eyes grew wide. I think my hands went up to my face as I cutely cowered. I very quickly, and sheepishly, scurried off the stage and back to the fabric on the hill.

    ~

    Once, towards the end of the competition, I looked over and saw D3 playing with his knife. He held it inside his mouth, never touching his tongue, cheeks, or lips.

    With the show ended, he packed up his kit. Slightly concerned, I asked him if he was okay. He explained he didn’t care for the show; that was all.

    He then informed me he was leaving camp; this was it for him. As he sat in his chair, I got up on my knees to hug him. He sunk back down to the ground onto his knees for our bye.

    We kissed, his lips and tongue now familiar. He sucked and played with my ring. He bit me a little. And we hugged.

    As he walked away, I consoled myself with the fact I would see him at The Floating World.

    And then it hit me: I liked him. Crap.

    For a moment, it felt like my camp drop had started.

    But I still had the rest of my Sunday night, and a pair of boots to attend to.  I packed up my kit and headed down to the Pavilion.

  • Cage Match

    D3 stripped naked, save for his boots. I wore only a black strapless dress, a cute pair of underwear, and my boots. I told D3 how I like it when people take off my clothes.

    “Mean or nice?”
    “Whichever.”

    He stepped in close. We kissed, our arms wrapped around each other.

    He began punching me. I slowly, blow by blow, backed up into the wall of the cage. I looked into his eyes as his punches landed on my chest, my arms, my thighs.

    He kissed me, turned me, and then stripped off my dress, unzippering the back and quickly peeling it off my body. He left my boots and underwear on.

    He punched my back, my ass. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked my thighs. He swung his leg and landed his boot across my ass.

    Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to the ground. Lying on my stomach, he put his boot by my face.

    “Lick it,” he demanded.

    My tongue traced up, down, and around his leather as he continued to punch my back.

    Using his boot, he flipped me over. He loomed above, stepping onto my body, using the cage for balance until he could apply his full weight. Adjusting his body, he intensified his weight into his heel, down onto my flesh. Turning my head with his boot, he stepped on my chin line.

    Coming down to my level, he chose to sit on my ribs and once again punched my chest. Using his elbow, he applied pressure points to my chest and arms. Pulling out a knife, he glided his steel along my chest and over my face. He made me endure more pressure points.

    His knife away, he leaned down and once again kissed me. He licked my eyelids. As we continued to makeout, he pulled me on top of him.  His body now laid below mine.

    In an instant, the dynamic of our scene switched. I kissed him, teased him.  I danced my breasts in front of his face.  He pinched and sucked on my nipples.  I leaned down and bit his neck. He encouraged me to bit harder; I did so. He moaned with my increased pressure.

    I kissed him more. Without realizing it, I’d begun grinding my hips on his leg. I was happy my underwear was still on.

    Without warning, he hooked his leg and flipped me back onto the mat. Again we kissed. My legs grasped his thigh as I continued to hump his limb.

    He sat me up, crossed legged. He punched my thighs more. Using his lead shot mallet, he attacked my back and thighs.

    And then he asked a magical question.

    “What do you want to do now?”

    I answered bluntly.

    “Fist me or fuck me.”

    We laid down a chuck; he gloved up. I removed my very wet underwear and got comfortable on my back.

    We started slow. I asked him if I needed permission to cum. He said I didn’t. I could have as many orgasms as I wanted. “I love to watch people cum.”

    I orgasmed a few times before his full fist was in.

    Once inside, he used a turning motion to make room, sending my muscles racing. What he thought was to be our final flourish was merely about a third of the way into the fisting. I continued to fuck his hand and cum like crazy, pushing back as he rocked me forward.

    Once, during a rather intense orgasm, I lifted my hips up off the ground, bridging my body high. “That was intense,” he remarked.

    My ass back down on the ground, I hooked my calves around his elbow and squeezed my thighs. I rode his hand as hard as I could. I came so hard, I cried. I asked him to vibrate his hand, and then came again. He tried to open and close his hand quickly. I stopped him, coaching him instead to do it slowly.

    Soon, his wrist tired. He asked me how long I could go. I informed him this was a loaded question, as my record for a fisting was an hour and forty-five minutes with forty-two orgasms (yes, we counted).

    He decided, with his wrist about done, it was time to pull his hand out. There was a final flourish, the delicious feel of his knuckles against my pelvic bone when his hand exited.

    Ungloving and joining me on the mat, we cuddled and kissed, and almost fell asleep.

    He then asked me if I wanted to help him orgasm. I gave a very enthusiastic yes.

    I then gloved up as he laid back. As he masturbated, I massaged his asshole. When he came, I caught his cum in my glove and smeared it onto his lips. He licked off his cum, sucking on my fingers, all the while our eyes locked on each other. It was so very hot.

    Gloves again discarded, we cuddled more before cleaning up.

    When we checked the time, we could hardly believe it was real. We’d started at about midnight. The time had flown by.

    We finished at 2:22am.

  • Nerves

    When I approached the Dungeon, I knew I was arriving a bit early. Since I’d finished my writing with some extra time, I figured I’d just wait for D3’s arrival by the cage.

    As I grew closer to the entrance, a small crowd meandered outside. Since I knew the people standing about, I greeted folks and struck up a conversation.

    Skywolf and I spoke about bootblacking. He thanked me for aiding Phoenix in learning the basics of the skill, and asked me a specific leather care question. However, since I am still somewhat of a novice, I did not know the answer to his question.

    As I spoke with Skywolf, Lynk (ever the ninja) sneaked up on me again. I gave a little yelp as he nipped my neck and then rubbed my shoulders. The group conversation continued as I melted away for a moment, relaxing into his touch. I was grateful his hands helped to soothe away some of my nerves.

    When my mind again came back, I ended up giving a brief description of my night thus far to those standing about. Bendyogagirl them commented she suddenly felt her awesome night was not so awesome after all. However, when she described her exploits to me, I disagreed. I thought her escapades sounded like quite the kinky awesomeness.

    As much as I would’ve loved to have stayed outside with the group, chatting and socializing, I had a scene to get to.

    When I entered the Dungeon, it took me but a moment to find D3. He stood, by the cage, the ever prized play space claimed for us. He explained he’d actually waited and then held the spot just for our play.

    As I looked around the Dungeon, I noticed there was a dearth of kinky folk about. When D3 mentioned it was almost time for Midnight Snack, my question was answered.

    I set my things aside to use the restroom while D3 cleaned the mats on the floor of the cage. On my walk back, I happened to bump into N3rddom, who asked me what I was up to. I mentioned I was about to have a scene with a cute boy.

    “You seem nervous.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Your voice changed.”
    “What?”
    “You really like him.”
    “I gotta go,” I said, scurrying back towards the cage.

    As much as I cared for N3rddom, the last thing I needed was someone pointing out my nerves. I was, to be perfectly honest, incredibly nervous leading up to my scene with D3.

    Stepping into the cage, D3 closed the door behind me.

  • D3

    I asked D3 if he wouldn’t mind blacking my boots, seeing as my shift was up in fifteen minutes. He agreed, sitting on the ground as I remained in my chair, setting up his kit as I stashed mine away.

    He then asked, “Do you need to go anywhere?”

    “No,” I replied. My commitments for the evening didn’t start until much later, about two hours from then. This was his tester, to see how much care and attention he could give to my leather. In my view, he had all the time in the world.

    We started with my showing him how to unlace my boots, first trailing up the boot & around the rosettes and then back down over the rosettes & through the side loops.

    As he began his cleaning, I slipped into my happy floaty place. His hands massaged my calves. Pressure and sensation mixed with the feeling of having someone up close servicing my leather. My head rolled back and I sighed.

    To condition my boots, he used a mixture of Black Gold and Hubberd’s. I loved the visual of him rapidly rubbing his hands together and them applying the mixture on my boots.

    As again his hands kneaded into my flesh beneath my leather, my sighs grew into moans. My eyes closed; my head collapsed back. I fell into the feeling of the service; got lost in his hands.

    When I peeked, just once, I saw what looked like Hubberd’s on his lips. I smiled, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to be lost again.

    His work mostly complete, I explained how to re-lace my boots, a chore all its own.

    His work finished, I offered him a tip. He refused. He knew the money came from the tips I’d made earlier. Instead he told me to put the money back into my kit.

    Not able to compensate him monetarily, I asked if I could give him a hug. He stood up on his knees into my seated arms.

    As our limbs initially intertwined, we somehow naturally… gently… kissed.

    And kissed a little more.

    And a little more.

    Our lips parted. Our tongues played. Before I knew it, we were making out.

    My hands trailed down his back and gripped his ass.

    He started sucking on my tongue. Normally, I hate it when people do this. It’s only happened to me once before and it was not a pleasant experience.

    But D3… when he sucked my tongue.  And played with my ring.  I was so fucking aroused I started grinding against my metal chair and panting like a begging puppy.

    As he sucked and I bucked my hips, I came right there in his arms, the smell of Hubberd’s still fresh on the both of us. I never wanted to stop kissing him.

    But, eventually, we did. Our makeout session ended, we then actually hugged, and slowly broke apart.

    I slouched back into my chair, the intensity from the past minutes washing over me.

    D3 asked what I was up to that evening. I knew I was to black Stefanos’ boots, and had plans for play during the Circus. I asked him his plans. He, in fact, wanted a playdate with me.

    We settled on midnight at the Dungeon.

    I spoke about how I loved impact and showed off some of my bruises, exposing my breasts. He asked permission to play with my nipples, which I gave.

    His tongue flicked and licked. His lips closed around one and sucked. He bit, hard. I took in the pain, let it wash over me, until I had to call yellow.

    We flirted. We exchanged numbers. We parted.

    We would see each other again, later that evening.

  • My Bootblacking Shift

    Because of Friday night’s storm, there was some confusion and a handful of things not going as planned at camp. The Pamporium was up and running though, albeit without hot wax, so I made my way over after lunch, a host of much needed calories after my abduction, in hopes of working my bootblacking shifts.

    As I rolled past Oink’s cabin, I saw TheatricalToy there, along with others waiting to be let back inside to retrieve their things. She informed me she would not be bootblacking, but if I wanted I could still try.

    When I arrived at the Pamporium, Amethyst consented to my endeavour. I pulled two folding metal chairs over to a clear spot in the tent nearest the asphalt path. I found two small empty matching garbage bins and flipped them over.

    I unzipped my kit, a piece of well packed carry-on sized luggage, and I sat.

    As people walked in and out, I looked for anyone wearing boots. However, with the hot day, there were none. Me, in my cotton dress and knee-high boots, seemed an anomaly.

    As I waited, D3 came by. He was to be the experienced bootblack on shift (to my novice spot), but he wanted to check on Toy and help her through her current ordeal. He said he would swing by when he was again free.

    And so I went back to waiting.

    I scanned folks walking by, hoping to see leather. And then, a bite. I saw a gentleman walk up the lane in a pair. I called to him, asking if he’d like his boots blacked.

    As he sat down in my chair, he introduced himself. His name was B, and he was also suppose to be on shift with me. I’d signed up for two back-to-back slots, giving me boot time from 2:30pm-6pm.

    Now with a pair of boots to work on, I started. As I worked, I enlisted his aid. It was agreed he would stay by my side, just in case, answering any questions I had and giving me pointers along the way. He, in fact, could not black that day because of some shoulder issues.

    While I worked, my friend Phoenix came over. She saw that I was bootblacking and asked if I could teach her. I was more than happy to help. She scurried away to grab her Master’s boots.

    As I finished up B’s boots, he said he had another pair for me to black if I so wanted. I did. He left as well. Both soon returned.

    As another pair of boots sat in my chair, I explained the basics of bootblacking to Phoenix as she worked on her Master’s boots on the ground to my right. Meanwhile B sat on my left watching my work. I was both the teacher and the student.

    Later I blacked B’s second pair of boots, and he taught me a method for spit shining. Out of gratitude for his aid and tutelage, I asked him if I could kiss his boots. He agreed. Gripping his leather, I brought my lips to his boots, kissed and caressed both sides, and gently parted from his leather.

    At one point SkinnyBitch, who was inebriated, sat in my chair. She wore shiny flip flops and asked if I could black them. I looked through my kit, found a clean toothbrush, sprayed it with water, and dusted very carefully, making sure to not remove her sparkles. Challenge accepted and accomplished. She giggled with delight.

    While waiting for another customer, Stefanos happened to walk by. I turned, saw him, and smiled. I offered to black his boots, but he was on his way to a class. He suggested later, to which I gleefully agreed. I would meet him after the Circus that evening.

    As my shift grew near it’s end, D3 came back to check on me. After chatting with both my mentors for the day, D3, B and I agreed to come back the next day for another shift, as well as setup shop for the Dirty Pig leather contest. Phoenix and B then departed.

    D3, however, stayed.