I'm in a coffee shop right now, I should mention. I was supposed to work on my thesis, but my mind is just buzzing from a wonderful night and I can't seem to wrap my head around Ellul right now in a way which would be fruitful.
I keep pressing my legs together trying to gain some pressure, but without a hand in between my legs, pushed deep into my tights, and fingers pushed deep into my cunt it all seems like a pathetic attempt to regain something which can only be elusive right now.
As soon as we got in the car I pulled his hand between my legs. I just needed him to know how wet I was. That even though nothing could happen tonight, how much I wanted something to. His jaw dropped at how soaked I was. I always say that I get wet... really wet... and for some reason people simply don't believe me. Or they think that I have a different perception of "really wet" than I should. When I tell them it's half pride, half warning, but for some reason they think I'm significantly daintier than I actually am.
I push his hand deeper, grind down on his palm, which is covered in my cum already. I grind for pressure, to feel the warmth of his fingers inside me. His fingers flick over my pussy and I tremble.
When he pulls his hand away, his fingers are covered, soaking, and my cum drips off of them. I immediately lower my mouth to them, licking them clean, leaving him only with the scent of my cunt as we cross the Brooklyn Bridge, artificial lights skimming through and across the windows.
I stroke his cock through his pants, and feel every ridge and pulse. The thin fabric of his far too expensive pants prevents nothing. I squeeze, I stroke, I delight in his sounds.
I can still, if I close my eyes and remember just right, feel his cock in my palm. Feel it swell. It's really a very nice cock. Beautifully cut and of perfect thickness. I want to ride it and feel it swell inside me.
I fumble towards his belt and he unzips his pants, instead, pulling his cock out. I stroke at first. I want my mouth on his. I want his tongue against mine. I want his teeth on my lips and my inner thigh. Right now.
I can't tell if it's the memory or the door which keeps opening, but I get chills which keep running through me, and makes my breath catch.
I stop kissing him... which I should never, ever have done... and lower my mouth to his cock. I press it to the back of my throat, feeling my spit drip down over it. The cars moves, slows, stops, moves again, but it's all lost to me. I just want his cock inside me. I think briefly about the driver, but sadly it's only a fleeting thought. I think about the cock in front of me more.
His sounds spur me on, both to suck harder and to push it deeper into my throat. He pushes against me and I just barely gag on his cock. I pull back and lick the head of his cock, letting my tongue slide into the slit. I want to taste his cum desperately. I want the taste of him to fill my mouth and slide down my throat.
I sip tea, surrounded by a myriad of people who don't know how wet I am. Who have no idea that all I can think about is his swollen cock in my mouth. I hold my cup and smile. They would never guess.
I keep pumping his cock with my hand, eager. I usually enjoy giving blow jobs. I love sucking it into my mouth, teasing it out, making it last as long as I can. I love running my tongue over the tip, stroking the shaft in a firm grip and then teasing it with my fingers. I love sucking cock.
But not last night. Last night all I wanted was his cum. I wanted him to cover me in a full load, pumping his cock until it exploded over me. I wanted to see it unleash his white, hot, sticky cum all over my face and tits. I want him to cum in my mouth and let droplets spray onto my chin and drip down. I want it to crescendo over my body, to splash over my ass and decorate the tattoo on my back. I want him to make me his, claim his territory.
But all I can do, in this tiny car, is suck. I am forceful and eager with my hand. I have a goal, and it is not simply pleasure. I want to swallow every drop of cum he can muster.
I suck furiously, pumping my head up and down. I feel him tentatively place a hand on the back of my head, and while I don't often enjoy this specific move, the contact and pressure are perfect. I want him to press my head down, to feel his fingers tense in my hair.
Despite the un-included third person in the car, there is nothing furtive to this. There is only disregard and base need.
I stare around at the people in the coffee shop and they haven't noticed how my breathing is frighteningly staggered. I can't help it. I try and relax a little but my legs are twined together and my nipples are painfully hard against my bra.
I often think back and wish I had done things differently. I wish I had kissed him more. I wish I had felt his hands more on my bare skin. I wish for more of everything, more time, more words, more fucking, more privacy, more space, more of everything good. I wish I am sitting on his desk being fucked and not in this chilly coffee shop. But this is just as fruitless and I refuse to be anything less than pleased and wet.
His hand on the back of my head, and I am only more eager. I suck. I press. I ache. I pull.
I can feel his fingers tighten and I know I will get what I want.
He groans in the back of his head and pushes forward, up, tightening his grip on me. I want more and more and more and he cums.
It spills into my mouth, filling, warm and thick. It runs down my throat as I swallow in gulp after gasp. I want to let it run out of my mouth, dripping back down his cock so I can clean it up all over against with my tongue, but in the car this is unfeasible. I swallow, hair held tight, head held down. He tastes like exuberance. He tastes like want. He tastes like richness and royalty. He tastes like I imagine things taste like when I imagine tastes.
I wipe the corners of my mouth and let him find his breath. I lay my head on his chest and just watch as the car slows, but still passes, the front of my building. I say nothing.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Remnants
After he made me kneel on the rice, the scars lasted for longer than I anticipated. Small red welts covered the delicate space just below my knees.
I was angry at first, pouting that my body had weakened enough to show the memory of his work. But the more I saw them, the more they allowed me to remember that moment, kneeling in front of him, begging with only my eyes and tears. I could feel the sting of him slap on my face again. I smelled the sweat which dampened my chest as I became more and more resilient.
That is, until I touch them. Days later, I am masturbating, taking another break from the day or waking up, or finding some other excuse to cum.
My knees are bent, my hand buried in my cunt. I am soaking, working towards cumming, trying to pull back and wait, forcing myself to be patient.
I rub my clit slowly, flicking it, rubbing it in slow circles over and over. My mind wanders here and there, but it goes blank when I hit a nerve and a shudder runs down my spine.
My other fingers are slowly moving in and out of my cunt. Nothing too fast, nothing too thrilling, simply the enjoyment of the feeling of my fingers moving over the throbbing walls of my pussy. I love to be fucked deeply, to gasp as a cock hits the hilt of my cunt. But that's not today. Today is easy.
I begin to work myself up once more, noting that the time is ticking away and I do have things to get back to today. My fingers begin to work faster, making my toes curl around the edge of the bed. I was impatient now, waiting to cum and get up so I could go and finish the list of things waiting for me this afternoon.
The pressure inside me began to build. My legs grow tight in want. My muscles tense and wait. I want to push myself over the edge slowly and cascade down.
But then I touch them. One hand on my cunt, I take the other, still slicked with juices, and wrap it around my bent knee, pressing directly into the cuts which still burn, igniting pain I was not anticipating.
The shock is not unwelcome by a long shot. The moment of kneeling for him flood back. My fingers begin to press harder, tender spots stinging and making me want to cry while it shoots back down through my spine like an electric shock.
I cum. I cum hard. I cum harder than I was anticipating. I cum harder than I remember cumming in ages. I explode, squirting onto the unprotected sheets, juices dripping down and between the flesh of my ass. I am covered.
The sting hangs on for hours after I have cum. The clean up takes ages. I am again angry and wet and horny and frustrated. What bliss.
I was angry at first, pouting that my body had weakened enough to show the memory of his work. But the more I saw them, the more they allowed me to remember that moment, kneeling in front of him, begging with only my eyes and tears. I could feel the sting of him slap on my face again. I smelled the sweat which dampened my chest as I became more and more resilient.
That is, until I touch them. Days later, I am masturbating, taking another break from the day or waking up, or finding some other excuse to cum.
My knees are bent, my hand buried in my cunt. I am soaking, working towards cumming, trying to pull back and wait, forcing myself to be patient.
I rub my clit slowly, flicking it, rubbing it in slow circles over and over. My mind wanders here and there, but it goes blank when I hit a nerve and a shudder runs down my spine.
My other fingers are slowly moving in and out of my cunt. Nothing too fast, nothing too thrilling, simply the enjoyment of the feeling of my fingers moving over the throbbing walls of my pussy. I love to be fucked deeply, to gasp as a cock hits the hilt of my cunt. But that's not today. Today is easy.
I begin to work myself up once more, noting that the time is ticking away and I do have things to get back to today. My fingers begin to work faster, making my toes curl around the edge of the bed. I was impatient now, waiting to cum and get up so I could go and finish the list of things waiting for me this afternoon.
The pressure inside me began to build. My legs grow tight in want. My muscles tense and wait. I want to push myself over the edge slowly and cascade down.
But then I touch them. One hand on my cunt, I take the other, still slicked with juices, and wrap it around my bent knee, pressing directly into the cuts which still burn, igniting pain I was not anticipating.
The shock is not unwelcome by a long shot. The moment of kneeling for him flood back. My fingers begin to press harder, tender spots stinging and making me want to cry while it shoots back down through my spine like an electric shock.
I cum. I cum hard. I cum harder than I was anticipating. I cum harder than I remember cumming in ages. I explode, squirting onto the unprotected sheets, juices dripping down and between the flesh of my ass. I am covered.
The sting hangs on for hours after I have cum. The clean up takes ages. I am again angry and wet and horny and frustrated. What bliss.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The things we do to grow...
I am bent over, my tits pressed against the black vinyl. I can't tell if I'm breathing hard because I am afraid or I am letting the full weight of my upper body hang on this barely padded spanking bench. I can't tell because I am both. I can feel my body tingling with waves of fear. Everything is on edge.
My hands are bound behind my back, red plastic-y duct tape. My fingers try and find each other, but my wrists are crossed and I can only feel them wiggle in desperation. I'm sure he enjoys this look. I know he must like the fact that I am helpless, so purely in need of him.
My eyes are covered, my head wrapped countless times by the red tape. I fear it's going to rip out my eyelashes until I realize that the tears which have sprung so unwillingly from my eyes are protecting them. It pushes my hair slightly into my face, but mostly it crushes down on my nose and temples.
I can only hear my breath, feel it grow ragged. My ass is already red and sore from the power of his hands. His large hands, his long fingers are tender and merciless. I hate how much I ache for them. These hands which give both a relentless grooming into his strong, good girl. These hands which make me cum until I can't fathom being more spent.
But he does not use his hands right now. He picks up a wooden brush and begins to beat my ass. No matter how nervous, how warmed up, how desperate I am to gain his approval, there is nothing which can prepare me for this. The pain is white, blinding.
Every time the hard wood lands I cry out, my knees buckling at least slightly. I want to stand straight for him but every time I feel the brush my body insists on responding. My body wants to much to run, and I should crumple onto the floor and beg for mercy. Every instinct I have ever learned is screaming to make this blistering pain end. If I even whispered "stop" I know he would at least pause and I could get some sweet relief for my flesh. I can stop this at any moment, despite my palms damp with sweat as they squeeze tight enough to draw blood from my own nails. I can beg him for mercy and he would relent.
But despite my body's desperate pleas, the thought of asking for mercy never crosses my mind. It is not my call to make. I can take the pain and for his approval I would take much more.
And so they continue and I can only scream and cry and pray that he will be satisfied with this beating soon. Once he is satisfied with my performance, I will be sated in knowing that I have made him proud. I would not be able to live with myself if I failed him.
He finally places the brush down and I feel his hands on my skin. I can feel the pressure, but the feeling has not yet returned. Tears simply dampen my eyes and smear my makeup below the duct tape.
White heat replaces numbness and I can simply feel a deep aching. My breath is weak, ragged, and I know I'm shaking. He stands behind me, holding onto my hips and I struggle to touch him more. I want to feel his body against mine. I want nothing more.
I can feel his hard cock under his pants and this is my reward. I breath deeply for the first time. His pleasure makes me feel proud.
He nudges my legs outward, and I step wide, refusing to pull back from his touch. I need more. I would beg for more if I thought it would do anything more than annoy him. He will give me my reward when I deserve it.
I breathe once more, but it against goes ragged as pain begins to set in in new waves. His hand rests on my spine, and I can barely hear him through the duct tape and my own weeping.
"Focus, baby."
I nod in the slightest twitch. It is time to regroup, possibly for another beating.
I gladly resume my position, rigid and bent over. There is sometimes a moment where I wonder how I could take some much, where I question this.
I do not have this moment.
He reaches to my cunt and it is dripping. His fingers dip into my cunt and are quickly soaked with my cum. I moan, feeling my pussy tighten around him. I push down on his hand, wanting more and more of his hand.
"You're a horny little slut, aren't you baby?"
I nod eagerly.
"You're my whore, aren't you?"
I nod even harder as his fingers begin to move on my clit.
"You'll fuck anything I tell you, won't you?"
"Yes yes yes." I finally squeak out.
I feel him move away just slightly, and then I feel the hairbrush on my thighs again. It strokes over the skin, the wooden ridge tenderly grazing the soft flesh that would burst instantly under a powerful stroke with the wood.
But this is not on his mind.
I feel the handle of the brush push at my cunt. He does not hesitate. My cunt is soaked and swollen and ready for anything to slide inside and he takes full advantage of this. The brush slides up to the hilt with ease and he begins to fuck me.
My hips rock against the wood and I can feel the bristles roughly move against my pussy. His fingers move on my clit and I lean into his body for the first time. I gasp, whimpering, groan. There is nothing more I want than to be fucked for his entertainment.
He thrusts forcefully, the butt of the handle pounding into my tight cunt. I can feel it slamming into my cervix and I simply pump harder.
My cunt tightens around the awkwardly swollen end of the brush. It rubs me in ways I don't know how to process. I cry out with pure lust, shifting against his solid body. It anchors me as I rock my hips harder and harder. My juices are dripping down over the handle and his grip tightens.
I bend my knees to feel it deeper inside my pussy. My noises are growing louder as I still struggle for balance. My hands work against the duct tape and I wish to whatever God I still believe in that he would just touch me harder, more, longer, anything to get him inside me, even if I have to soak his touch through my skin.
He continues to fuck me with the brush. I wonder if he will be able to grip the handle again enough to beat me (if he likes) now that it's covered in my juices. I know they are soaking into the black, stiff bristles. This brush will never be free of the smell of my pussy.
I can feel my cunt awkwardly tightening. His fingers move on my clit and I begin to pant, tensing. I am focused now. The pain is gone, and now there is only want. Want to cum, want to collapse, want to explode and squirt all over this brush, the floor, my panties, his hand. I try and open my mouth to cry out, but the duct tape pressing on my nose makes it hard. I try my best.
"Fuck it, baby."
I do.
"Do you want to cum for me?"
I do.
"Then do it."
And I do.
My hands are bound behind my back, red plastic-y duct tape. My fingers try and find each other, but my wrists are crossed and I can only feel them wiggle in desperation. I'm sure he enjoys this look. I know he must like the fact that I am helpless, so purely in need of him.
My eyes are covered, my head wrapped countless times by the red tape. I fear it's going to rip out my eyelashes until I realize that the tears which have sprung so unwillingly from my eyes are protecting them. It pushes my hair slightly into my face, but mostly it crushes down on my nose and temples.
I can only hear my breath, feel it grow ragged. My ass is already red and sore from the power of his hands. His large hands, his long fingers are tender and merciless. I hate how much I ache for them. These hands which give both a relentless grooming into his strong, good girl. These hands which make me cum until I can't fathom being more spent.
But he does not use his hands right now. He picks up a wooden brush and begins to beat my ass. No matter how nervous, how warmed up, how desperate I am to gain his approval, there is nothing which can prepare me for this. The pain is white, blinding.
Every time the hard wood lands I cry out, my knees buckling at least slightly. I want to stand straight for him but every time I feel the brush my body insists on responding. My body wants to much to run, and I should crumple onto the floor and beg for mercy. Every instinct I have ever learned is screaming to make this blistering pain end. If I even whispered "stop" I know he would at least pause and I could get some sweet relief for my flesh. I can stop this at any moment, despite my palms damp with sweat as they squeeze tight enough to draw blood from my own nails. I can beg him for mercy and he would relent.
But despite my body's desperate pleas, the thought of asking for mercy never crosses my mind. It is not my call to make. I can take the pain and for his approval I would take much more.
And so they continue and I can only scream and cry and pray that he will be satisfied with this beating soon. Once he is satisfied with my performance, I will be sated in knowing that I have made him proud. I would not be able to live with myself if I failed him.
He finally places the brush down and I feel his hands on my skin. I can feel the pressure, but the feeling has not yet returned. Tears simply dampen my eyes and smear my makeup below the duct tape.
White heat replaces numbness and I can simply feel a deep aching. My breath is weak, ragged, and I know I'm shaking. He stands behind me, holding onto my hips and I struggle to touch him more. I want to feel his body against mine. I want nothing more.
I can feel his hard cock under his pants and this is my reward. I breath deeply for the first time. His pleasure makes me feel proud.
He nudges my legs outward, and I step wide, refusing to pull back from his touch. I need more. I would beg for more if I thought it would do anything more than annoy him. He will give me my reward when I deserve it.
I breathe once more, but it against goes ragged as pain begins to set in in new waves. His hand rests on my spine, and I can barely hear him through the duct tape and my own weeping.
"Focus, baby."
I nod in the slightest twitch. It is time to regroup, possibly for another beating.
I gladly resume my position, rigid and bent over. There is sometimes a moment where I wonder how I could take some much, where I question this.
I do not have this moment.
He reaches to my cunt and it is dripping. His fingers dip into my cunt and are quickly soaked with my cum. I moan, feeling my pussy tighten around him. I push down on his hand, wanting more and more of his hand.
"You're a horny little slut, aren't you baby?"
I nod eagerly.
"You're my whore, aren't you?"
I nod even harder as his fingers begin to move on my clit.
"You'll fuck anything I tell you, won't you?"
"Yes yes yes." I finally squeak out.
I feel him move away just slightly, and then I feel the hairbrush on my thighs again. It strokes over the skin, the wooden ridge tenderly grazing the soft flesh that would burst instantly under a powerful stroke with the wood.
But this is not on his mind.
I feel the handle of the brush push at my cunt. He does not hesitate. My cunt is soaked and swollen and ready for anything to slide inside and he takes full advantage of this. The brush slides up to the hilt with ease and he begins to fuck me.
My hips rock against the wood and I can feel the bristles roughly move against my pussy. His fingers move on my clit and I lean into his body for the first time. I gasp, whimpering, groan. There is nothing more I want than to be fucked for his entertainment.
He thrusts forcefully, the butt of the handle pounding into my tight cunt. I can feel it slamming into my cervix and I simply pump harder.
My cunt tightens around the awkwardly swollen end of the brush. It rubs me in ways I don't know how to process. I cry out with pure lust, shifting against his solid body. It anchors me as I rock my hips harder and harder. My juices are dripping down over the handle and his grip tightens.
I bend my knees to feel it deeper inside my pussy. My noises are growing louder as I still struggle for balance. My hands work against the duct tape and I wish to whatever God I still believe in that he would just touch me harder, more, longer, anything to get him inside me, even if I have to soak his touch through my skin.
He continues to fuck me with the brush. I wonder if he will be able to grip the handle again enough to beat me (if he likes) now that it's covered in my juices. I know they are soaking into the black, stiff bristles. This brush will never be free of the smell of my pussy.
I can feel my cunt awkwardly tightening. His fingers move on my clit and I begin to pant, tensing. I am focused now. The pain is gone, and now there is only want. Want to cum, want to collapse, want to explode and squirt all over this brush, the floor, my panties, his hand. I try and open my mouth to cry out, but the duct tape pressing on my nose makes it hard. I try my best.
"Fuck it, baby."
I do.
"Do you want to cum for me?"
I do.
"Then do it."
And I do.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
To make good use
"Fuck her."
She holds onto my hair. I am surprised she said anything audible for me at all, as I've only been hearing remnants of sentences and ideas all night. They only make sense when something happens, and I can piece together what the original was, but this is simply a command and I know what is coming.
She has put a blindfold on me, which she knows I detest. She knows it fucks my entire sense of control, but she detests that even from the bottom, I think I have control.
My arms have been tied behind my back for so long they've gone numb. Another rope pulls my arms down by the elbows to hug my body and wrap around a long leather bench over which I bend.
Her hand remains on the back of my head, despite the rustling I hear. I know this must be him preparing something. He moves around, close to her and then away.
I brace.
He doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. He is in just as much control of me as she is. But she is just as much control of him as he is of me.
I hear movement, but I can barely register it. And then I hear a zipper. I shift my hips, and her hand tightens in my hair, throwing me off again. She doesn't want me prepared for his cock.
If I wasn't fucking dripping wet already she would have insisted I stay dry to make it hurt more.
She is a fucking bitch. She is amazing.
Two of her fingers find their way into my mouth and I begin to suck. She chokes me with them and I sputter but continue. Despite being tied back, I am eager to please her fingers. To feel them shift in my mouth. Spit fills my mouth as she pokes at the back of my throat.
It begins to pool in my mouth and I do not hesitate to let it run down my chin and drip heavily onto the floor.
I couch slightly around her fingers and she takes this moment to pull my mouth open and shove her hard cock into my mouth. As she does this he pulls my hips and shoves his cock inside me as well.
I am filled.
They both begin to fuck, and I feel myself opened and destroyed altogether. As she slams my throat he destroys my cunt. They are hard and wanton and have no pity for the girl tied down.
I want them to use me. I want them to cum. I want them.
She holds onto my hair. I am surprised she said anything audible for me at all, as I've only been hearing remnants of sentences and ideas all night. They only make sense when something happens, and I can piece together what the original was, but this is simply a command and I know what is coming.
She has put a blindfold on me, which she knows I detest. She knows it fucks my entire sense of control, but she detests that even from the bottom, I think I have control.
My arms have been tied behind my back for so long they've gone numb. Another rope pulls my arms down by the elbows to hug my body and wrap around a long leather bench over which I bend.
Her hand remains on the back of my head, despite the rustling I hear. I know this must be him preparing something. He moves around, close to her and then away.
I brace.
He doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. He is in just as much control of me as she is. But she is just as much control of him as he is of me.
I hear movement, but I can barely register it. And then I hear a zipper. I shift my hips, and her hand tightens in my hair, throwing me off again. She doesn't want me prepared for his cock.
If I wasn't fucking dripping wet already she would have insisted I stay dry to make it hurt more.
She is a fucking bitch. She is amazing.
Two of her fingers find their way into my mouth and I begin to suck. She chokes me with them and I sputter but continue. Despite being tied back, I am eager to please her fingers. To feel them shift in my mouth. Spit fills my mouth as she pokes at the back of my throat.
It begins to pool in my mouth and I do not hesitate to let it run down my chin and drip heavily onto the floor.
I couch slightly around her fingers and she takes this moment to pull my mouth open and shove her hard cock into my mouth. As she does this he pulls my hips and shoves his cock inside me as well.
I am filled.
They both begin to fuck, and I feel myself opened and destroyed altogether. As she slams my throat he destroys my cunt. They are hard and wanton and have no pity for the girl tied down.
I want them to use me. I want them to cum. I want them.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
And then there were two.
I kneel, wearing little more than lace and good will. There is a black collar around my neck, thick leather which is just tight enough to be felt constantly. The collar has a single ring on the front, and it hangs with a looming weight. It will be pulled. It will be used.
I am not alone. I kneel next to another girl. Beautiful. She waits with me. We don't look at each other because when we do, we smile. There is something about waiting next to another pretty girl that makes me heart skip. She will be my partner in this crime.
We wait, hands delicately lilting on our cold, bare thighs. Our nipples are hard, four tight points waiting straight across for attention, red lace and then blue lace pulled across. I can feel the heat from her body next to mine. We are both warm with nerves, yet our skin is dotted with goosebumps. I want to just ask her what she thinks will happen. I want her to know I'm nervous and ask her is she is, too.
He is having us wait, and I know he's listening intently. He knows our voices, so whoever speaks will be beaten, probably by the other one.
When he finally walks in we are at full attention. I rise just slightly, my posture perking and stiffening. My hands are behind my back, holding onto my forearms. I am on my knees, but not resting. My black platforms just barely kiss as I make sure my feet are together, though my knees remain wide. I have been devoted to his training, and now simply get excited to perform my tasks for him. His smile of approval leaves me wet and tingling.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smiling as well. She is poised and at attention. I also see her looking at me out of the corner of her eye and we cannot help but smile wider.
He sees this and slaps me across the face. He chooses us at random to punish. Sometimes she is punished for my mistakes, and sometimes I am rewarded for hers. It catches us off guard, but it means we are inextricably tied together.
We rise and his hands drop to his side. We know.
We both rise onto our knees and, with a smile to each other, I begin to work on his belt while she rubs his cock through his pants. He begins to get hard as he smiles at his girls. We are devoted to his service. We are devoted to his attention. But most of all, to his pleasure.
She rubs her cheek against his pants, stroking his clothed thigh with her soft skin. I am the first to reach his cock and stroke it slowly with my hand. I kiss the head softly, tenderly. I kiss down his shaft, my lips full and pressing onto his swollen cock. As I slide my tongue back down to the tip, her mouth moves up and begins to fully kiss his balls. Her lips are full and wet and beautiful. I begin to suck slowly on the head as her tongue runs up and to the base of him.
I finally feel a hand on the back of my head as he pushes himself into my mouth. As her tongue begins to work his shaft, my mouth starts to slide down. I suck and slide until my lips meet hers.
We both slide back down, my lips sliding back to the head. Her tongue works the base of his cock, working back down to his balls, sucking them into her mouth. I watch her suck them as I feel precum drip onto the back of my tongue and down my throat.
We nudge closer, and finally our knees meet. My hand finds her thigh and hers mine.
As his cock hits the back of my throat, I feel drool begin to run down my chin, dripping heavy onto the floor, hitting my tits on its way down. She squeezes my thigh slightly and I know she wants her turn.
I pull back and eagerly move my tongue over his shaft. He has his hand tight in my hair, but lets me do as I please. I lap quickly, playing my tongue over and over his shaft. She begins to suck heartily, and I move back down to his balls, pulling them completely into my mouth. They fill my mouth, and my tongue curls around them. I feel them tightening and I can only run my tongue harder, more eagerly.
She sucks him hard. We are both so eager we are squeezing each other's hands. I finally pull back, my tongue finding his shaft again, as does hers. It is only a moment before our tongue work each others and his cock at the same time. Her mouth is just as wet and swollen as mine.
He tells us to get back and we do, rising to perfect attention and leaning back just slightly as he grabs his cock, spraying wave after wave of cum over our tits, necks, chests. When he is done he will kiss both of us on the top of the head and leave just as quietly as when he came in. We will clean each other off. We will curl into a ball together, and know that we have done well today. And then we will sleep.
I am not alone. I kneel next to another girl. Beautiful. She waits with me. We don't look at each other because when we do, we smile. There is something about waiting next to another pretty girl that makes me heart skip. She will be my partner in this crime.
We wait, hands delicately lilting on our cold, bare thighs. Our nipples are hard, four tight points waiting straight across for attention, red lace and then blue lace pulled across. I can feel the heat from her body next to mine. We are both warm with nerves, yet our skin is dotted with goosebumps. I want to just ask her what she thinks will happen. I want her to know I'm nervous and ask her is she is, too.
He is having us wait, and I know he's listening intently. He knows our voices, so whoever speaks will be beaten, probably by the other one.
When he finally walks in we are at full attention. I rise just slightly, my posture perking and stiffening. My hands are behind my back, holding onto my forearms. I am on my knees, but not resting. My black platforms just barely kiss as I make sure my feet are together, though my knees remain wide. I have been devoted to his training, and now simply get excited to perform my tasks for him. His smile of approval leaves me wet and tingling.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smiling as well. She is poised and at attention. I also see her looking at me out of the corner of her eye and we cannot help but smile wider.
He sees this and slaps me across the face. He chooses us at random to punish. Sometimes she is punished for my mistakes, and sometimes I am rewarded for hers. It catches us off guard, but it means we are inextricably tied together.
We rise and his hands drop to his side. We know.
We both rise onto our knees and, with a smile to each other, I begin to work on his belt while she rubs his cock through his pants. He begins to get hard as he smiles at his girls. We are devoted to his service. We are devoted to his attention. But most of all, to his pleasure.
She rubs her cheek against his pants, stroking his clothed thigh with her soft skin. I am the first to reach his cock and stroke it slowly with my hand. I kiss the head softly, tenderly. I kiss down his shaft, my lips full and pressing onto his swollen cock. As I slide my tongue back down to the tip, her mouth moves up and begins to fully kiss his balls. Her lips are full and wet and beautiful. I begin to suck slowly on the head as her tongue runs up and to the base of him.
I finally feel a hand on the back of my head as he pushes himself into my mouth. As her tongue begins to work his shaft, my mouth starts to slide down. I suck and slide until my lips meet hers.
We both slide back down, my lips sliding back to the head. Her tongue works the base of his cock, working back down to his balls, sucking them into her mouth. I watch her suck them as I feel precum drip onto the back of my tongue and down my throat.
We nudge closer, and finally our knees meet. My hand finds her thigh and hers mine.
As his cock hits the back of my throat, I feel drool begin to run down my chin, dripping heavy onto the floor, hitting my tits on its way down. She squeezes my thigh slightly and I know she wants her turn.
I pull back and eagerly move my tongue over his shaft. He has his hand tight in my hair, but lets me do as I please. I lap quickly, playing my tongue over and over his shaft. She begins to suck heartily, and I move back down to his balls, pulling them completely into my mouth. They fill my mouth, and my tongue curls around them. I feel them tightening and I can only run my tongue harder, more eagerly.
She sucks him hard. We are both so eager we are squeezing each other's hands. I finally pull back, my tongue finding his shaft again, as does hers. It is only a moment before our tongue work each others and his cock at the same time. Her mouth is just as wet and swollen as mine.
He tells us to get back and we do, rising to perfect attention and leaning back just slightly as he grabs his cock, spraying wave after wave of cum over our tits, necks, chests. When he is done he will kiss both of us on the top of the head and leave just as quietly as when he came in. We will clean each other off. We will curl into a ball together, and know that we have done well today. And then we will sleep.
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