Stroke yourself

"Stroke yourself"

She wanted to watch him stroke himself, there is something she loves about watching him, the long hard, deliberate stokes. 

Watching him create his own torment, his own suffering after being denied release for so long.

There is something she loves about watching his own hand wrapped around his cock, the way his eyes are filled with lust, the desire darkening the colour of his eyes.

She wanted to watch the pre-cum drip from him, as she tormented his nipples with her fingers, her mouth, and her teeth.  The whole image was hot for her, created her own lustful desire deep within.  Watching him was like her own self torment. 

"Harder"

She wanted to watch him stroke himself harder, to watch his tightening fist, a low growl of longing, a pleading look as he hoped to be allowed to find the release that his body had ached for, that his body longed for and still she denied him.  She wanted to prolong his wait, wanted to prolong his suffering, his torment, his desire.

He pleaded and begged for his release and only when it was granted was he allowed to release the salty seed which spurted onto his body, slowly dripping down his fist and over his fingers. 

A low growl released from deep within him echoed around the room.  His eyes shined with lust and hers with desire.  She fed him his own cum covered fingers.

"Here is your treat" she whispered as he devoured his own fingers before her eyes.

 

Stroke

There is something incredibly hot watching him stroke himself. The strength in his hand, in his fingers wrapped around his hardness.

Watching the precise and deliberate strokes, teasing, torturing, tormenting as they take him to an edge that she denies him from falling over. Eyes glazed with a desire so lustful as he fixes his gaze upon her own lust filled eyes.  

Her own hands, mauling his flesh, scratching, pulling, twisting the skin of his thighs, his ass. The pain and teasing only heightening his desire further, he feels the pressure building within him like a volcano waiting to erupt.

Pre-cum drips from him, she knows that it will soon be hers, and indeed his again, but not until she is ready, not until she is ready to grant his body that release from his frustration. She loves to hear him whimper, she loves to hear him beg "please" as she makes his fist tighter around his cock, making him move harder, faster, more deliberate, more controlled.

She loves to hear his low growl of pleasure, of his arousal resonate in her ears.

She loves to watch him struggle to hold that moment, denying him for as long as she is able. She revels in the frustration in his face, the longing and salacious desire that burns in his eyes. Her own arousal deepening at the control that she has over his body, over his cock, over him.

She loves to see his face, his eyes filled with desire, with wanting, with love.  His body trembling with excitement, a sheen of sweat over him that enables her hands and fingers to glide easily over him, teasing him, stroking him, arousing him.

His movements grow with anticipation of that moment, and she loves to watch his salty seed spurt out of his body, over his hand, his groans and screams that escape his mouth in relief. 

And then she loves to give that seed back to him, forcing his fingers into his mouth one at a time as he recoils against the saltiness upon his lips, his mind which hasn't recovered enough to prevent this invasion in his mouth.

He sucks his own fingers, taking in every last drop. She loves to see him hungry for it.

For himself.

For her.

Broken Dream

Your text in the early hours of the morning woke me. 

Woke me from a wonderful and deliciously wicked dream that when I looked at your words, my body was already tingling, was already throbbing, desiring, longing, craving.

I almost had to stop for a moment to check that it had in fact been a dream, the arousal of my body, the way that I was feeling was so real, so deeply felt, that it was hard to believe that that arousal could come from a dream.

And I couldn't help but drift back to the images that had been within my dream only moments before . . .as hands touch, as fingers make their way into the warmth and wetness that the dream created.  I find myself in that moment. Hot. Wet. Aroused.


But I want to go back to that dream.
To you.
To us.

The ache

You know that ache.

The dull ache inside when you long to be fucked.  When you ache for the feeling of a cock deep inside, being fucked, being fucked hard. 

"You have that ache right now . . . don't you?" I asked.

The glazed eyes looked up at me, and although I already knew the answer I forced the words to come from your lips, to watch the cheeks burn with humiliation.

"You want that physical release.  The mental release that being fucked and used brings . . .don't you?"

The eyes once again gave it all away and when no words were forthcoming I pulled back my hand and made contact with the already reddening cheek which reddened more deeply with the sting of my palm.

You already knew that begging doesn't touch me.  That while yes, I can quite happily watch someone begging, pleading, but, it doesn't touch me. It doesn't make me weaken or give in, in fact it makes me the opposite, it hardens me.  I know, I can be incredibly stubborn at times.

"You know that I will use your need against you . . .don't you?"

"Yes. I. Know." you replied in almost a whisper.

I am watching you closely, the look in your eye, the desire, the wanting and the needing so clear that it doesn't need words to voice it.  I know you too well.  I know the longing that you have.  I know that you want to be taken and used.  But I have no intention of doing so, or at least not in the way you are wanting right then.

Instead I sit back in the chair and watch you, your legs shaking a little from where you have been in the same position for so long.  You are shifting slightly.

"So. You want it.  Beg."

And there it begins, your begging and pleading.  You tell me how you are a whore and a slut and need to be used like one.  You tell me that you need to be filled and stretched, fucked and hurt.  You beg me for it to happen.  You beg with humiliation, shamelessly pleading.

I request you to start playing with yourself while you're begging, and smile at the sharp intakes of breath between the movement of your hands as you build closely to an orgasm.  You know that you will not orgasm without being told you can, and I tell you to keep begging, to keep playing, and your mind struggles between trying to do these two things at once.

Knowing that you want something so much, makes me want to not give it you at all.  To do everything else but give you what you want at that moment.   Instead I want to tease you, to torment you, to hurt you. But not to give you the one thing that you're pleading for.  This thought satisfies part of my own sadism, making you suffer all the more brings me pleasure.

Making you suffer makes me wet. 

You are desperately not trying to come, the precum glistening on the end of your hardened cock. Your hand easing off every now and then as the concentration on your face intensifies the closer to orgasm that you are.

"You want to be fucked and used and stretched . . .then you can do it yourself."

You look confused, struggling to comprehend what is being asked of you.

"Use your fingers. Finger your ass."

A look of disappointment passes fleetingly through your eyes and your face, as I raise my eyebrows at the brief display of your frustration.You sucked your fingers, made them wet and started to use them on yourself, your other hand still pumping up and down your cock.  I enjoyed watching the movements of a novice contortionist as you tried to do the things you'd been instructed, I enjoyed watching the physical struggles that you were having, the struggles of trying not to come, the emotional struggles as you battled with the emotional feelings, the humiliation of fingering your own ass while masturbating your cock, all while I sat and watched.

I am whispering into your ear, telling you how dirty you are, how much of a slut that you are, and telling you that I know you want me to fuck your ass and to fuck it hard.

I decide to make you show me how hard as I pass you the glass dildo that I had bought just for this occasion.  Your eyes had balked at the sight of the double ends, one much bigger than the other.  The fear in your eyes now as I looked at one end and then the other was as plain as day.

I forced the small end of the dildo into your mouth, telling you that which end I used would depend how well you sucked it.  Except, I already knew which end I was going to use.  

You suck it hard, gagging as it hits the back of your throat.  And you are sucking and fingering yourself and your cock is still in your other hand as you're taking yourself to the edge time and time again.  

You plead with your eyes.  You beg with your mouth.  Except it falls on deaf ears.  

"Now, which end would go in easier?" I ask.  You do not reply. Instead as I inspect it and smile, you already know what your fate is about to be.

I remove it from your mouth, forcing the wider end of the dildo into your mouth, forcing it into your throat. You're gagging, tears forming in your eyes, breathing heavily, gasping, choking.  

"Now fuck yourself"  as I pass him the dildo with the large end facing him.

"You know what to do.".

You are distracted from the edging, as you struggle to push the end of the glass dildo into your well fingered ass, and as you force it into yourself, you are fucking your ass with the glass, edging yourself frantically.  Wanting to please, wanting to orgasm.  And the dull ache of wanting to be fucked has turned into the longing ache to orgasm.

And you begin to beg and plead all over again, I beckon you over and you crawl towards me on your knees, the glass dildo protruding from your ass.

"Don't stop" I tell you as I push your head down between my thighs, sitting back, closing my eyes, knowing that the dull ache to be fucked is not yours alone.

My toy!

The first time I brought you to orgasm was while you were talking to your mother. 

You had been talking to her for what seemed like an age.

I was bored.

My feet had been massaged to death and I decided that I wanted to tease, that I wanted your attention, your undivided attention. Not a little bit fitted in between a sentence every now and then.

I was playful.

And decided that you were the little toy that I wanted to play with.  Mother or no mother. 

I started to run my nails up and down the inner sides of your thighs, even beneath the trousers that you were wearing I know that you could feel them, I felt you shiver, I saw your own self begin to harden beneath the material.

Your eyes pleaded with me to stop, except it just made me want to tease you all the more, determined that I was going to make it as hard for you as possible (quite literally!)

Your breathing was beginning to change, you started to shift uncomfortably, and just when you were about to reply to her once again I started rubbing your hardening cock with my hand, causing you to gasp with a sharp intake of breath.  I heard you tell her that nothing was the matter and that you were listening.

I giggled as I began to tease you some more.  My hands working up and down the inner lengths of your thigh, gently brushing against your cock and balls every now and then, causing small sharp intakes of breath which made you look at me with pleading eyes; causing me to do it all the more.

I slowly unzipped your trousers, freeing the hardness that begged to be played with. Your eyes however begging me not to.  I grinned mischievously at you. You already knew that I wouldn't stop even if you asked me. A soft sigh escaped from your lips as I gently stroked you, all the time you just kept talking.

You didn't look at me when I lent over you, my tongue following the path of tiny raised welts that my finger nails had just carved into your skin.  You didn't dare to look at me as I began to tease your hardness with my tongue, flicking it quickly across the very tip.

Tantalisingly slowly, gently teasing.

You didn't dare to look at me when I reached up inside your shirt and started flicking your nipples with my fingernails.  More gasping, more sharp intakes of breath causing me to do it all the more, yet harder.  I watched you flinch each time I flicked the erect nipples with my nails, watching the way that you would screw your eyes tightly together and grimace, trying to find a way to quietly process the pain.  All the while listening and talking to your mother.

I gently twisted them between my finger and thumb, rolling them back and forward, gently at first, waiting until you were about to speak before twisting them hard, digging my nails in.  Watching you wince, while silent moans were desperately trying to escape.

Your mind was confused, not knowing whether to expect the gentlest of touches, or the harsh pain inducing force.  Back to teasing gently, I began to move your legs apart, exposing yourself to me, and I slid two fingers inside my mouth, wetting them with saliva, and watched the fear grow in your eyes as you tried to figure out what I was about to do.

Deep down, you already knew it.  Just as from the grin on my face you knew that I did too.

I was getting more daring.

The sadist in me was wanting to hurt you more.  And although you couldn't say it, I know that you were pleading with me not to as I teased the entrance to your ass with my finger.  Your cock began twitching, precum spilling over the end showing quite clearly that although you feared what was coming next that the reality was it aroused you.

And as I buried my fingers deep into you, I took your cock deep into my mouth, tasting you, teasing you with my tongue.  Licking it with force and fervor. You gasped, almost choked at the mixture of pleasure and pain, the mixture of delightful teasing combined with the intrusion into your body.

I took your cock deep into my throat, my tongue teasing around the head, flicking with great enthusiasm.  I could tell from the way that you were tensing up that you would not be able to hold it anymore.

Between gasps and sighs, between deep inhalations and brief exclamations your words stuttered, as you struggled to find the words.  All the time I am teasing you, sucking you, working you provocatively to the edge.  My fingers working competently yet arousingly until you can fight it no longer.

I knew that she was confused about what was happening and I knew that you were struggling to deny that anything was happening, your own mind confused with trying to focus on the conversation but distracted intensely with my mouth, my hand, my fingers.  And through sighs and moans as I took you from my mouth, one hand working frenziedly over your cock, the others fingers working deeply into your ass, you came. 

You struggled to find the words between your moans but managed to say goodbye to your mother.


I took the phone from your hand placing it onto the table smiling at you while sitting back and watching your expression.

I grinned at your confusion, your embarrassment.

I grinned at my toy.

Silent Movie.

We sat there. 

In silence.  

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he stared forward at the screen and the movie that I had allowed him to choose (and one that he had so wanted to see!)

I was bored. Restless. 

Not interested in the film playing out before me.  

He stared intently. Engrossed. Lost in the storyline.  He remained silent, even when my hand started wandering over the top of his thigh. The tip of my long, neatly french manicured nail drawing patterns through the material of his trousers, almost making contact with his skin.  

I felt him shiver.

I heard the change in his breathing.

I felt the straining of his trousers as his body reacted to my touch.

The guy next to him looked down at my hand wandering over his leg.  Watching the patterns I was making, watching the teasing of my fingers brushing gently over the top of his restrained cock. 

He looked up at me. Smiled. 

You continued to look straight ahead at the movie. I smiled back.

For all intent and purposes, it could have been a silent movie for all I cared.  I was more interested in teasing you as you sat next to me, seeing how long it would take for me to break your gaze from the screen, seeing how long it would take for you to shift uncomfortably at your body's reactions.

I didn't stop.

Not even knowing that the man next to you was aware of what I was doing.  In fact, it made me want to tease you all the more.  I was watching you. Watching him at the same time.

You didn't say a word or make a noise when I slowly undid the zip of the trousers you were wearing, or even when I slipped my hand inside, finding an aroused and hardened cock, twitching, throbbing, begging to be played with.

I intentionally continued despite the pair of eyes next to you watching.  I didn't hide what I was doing. I didn't pick up your jacket from the floor to place over your lap.  I didn't want to hide.  I didn't want to pretend.

I wanted to play.

Freely. No distractions.

Nothing getting in my way or preventing me from doing what I wanted to be doing right then.

No distraction. No barriers. No subtlety.

I didn't want to be subtle. I wanted to do what I wanted to do.

I leant over towards you, whispering in your ear that the guy next to you was watching, that he was jealous that your cock was hard in my hands.  I could feel the heat from your face, your cock twitching in my hand in reaction to the humiliation of knowing that you were being played with, but being watched by some unknown stranger.

I began to play with you more forcefully. My fingers and hands maintaining a strong grip, my fingers finding their way around your cock as they moved the foreskin back and forth, the first drops of precum finding their way to my fingers. I pulled them out, placing them to your mouth as you sucked.

He was watching.  He smiled.

I smiled at him again.  You continued to stare straight ahead.  I could feel your pulse racing. Your heart beating a million beats a minute.  Your face flushed.

You still didn't make a sound.

But began to close your eyes and lose the focus on your film the harder that I teased you.  I could feel your body tensing up beneath my grasp, forcing yourself up into my hands, trying to move to a place where you needed or wanted me to touch you.

And you leant back into the chair and I knew that I had you.  I knew that you were close.  I whispered into your ear that he was still watching you. That I wanted you to keep your eyes open and watch what I was doing, what was happening around you.

And he was watching you. Watching you becoming hard in my hand.  Watching you as you moved to enable me the access that I demanded.  Watching you as in silence you came.

Just like a silent movie.

Talking...(while fucking)

The hunger is restless. 

It is like a thirst that cannot be quenched; a desire that cannot be satisfied.  No amount of masturbation can satiate the feelings that rage within, nothing which can prevent the depraved thoughts from growing in the mind. 

Depraved thoughts of you. Of me. Of many things.  Two, three, more times a day, in light, in darkness and yet it still isn't enough to calm the desire and the hunger that burns in every fibre of my being.  It still leaves me unsated. The desire, the longing, the urgent need still screaming, the hunger still restless.

So I imagine him, fucking me up and down the room, the kind of animalistic fucking where furniture goes flying, as bodies fall from one wall to another; hair pulled, face slapped, bruised, battered, bitten. Forced against the table sending the contents splaying all over the floor. Thrown against the sofa and on to the floor. Frenzied and frenetic fucking all played out before your eyes. 

His voice in my ear, talking while fucking, whispering into my ear of the things he is going to do to me, the things he is going to make you watch while he does them to me. His voice reverberating through my mind, around the room as he tells you what he is going to do to me.

And this does it to me.  It opens me. 

A voice, his words, the sound of the deep and sexy voice that has such an hypnotic effect, it enters into my head and opens me up more to him.  And he is talking and fucking. 

And you are watching still.

And without him touching me further, his words are forceful and strong, commanding and compelling, they are another implement in our pleasure, another tool in a box of so many. They penetrate my body, my mind.

And I come.

To the sound of his voice. To his words.  

And I am fucked, physically, emotionally, verbally.

My body shakes. The dampness of my skin against his from the forceful way he has taken me, he runs a fingernail down my spine, it is wet, I am wet.  And I feel naked, empty, open.

And still you watch.

He whispers into my ear, moving me down to my knees before him.

"Tell me how much you like my cock" He says. His words penetrating into my mind once more, infiltrating into the depths of me.  My own body reacting to the desire and longing from his words.

I kneel before him. His cock is hard, large, thick, I love the way the veins stand out, how it stands perpendicular to his body from where it is so hard from arousal. And as I touch it, while looking at you, I smile.

"I love it . . .I want to suck it and taste it and feel it . . ." I reply, still watching you.

You know how much I like to suck cock and yet you know that it has been so long since I have done so with yours.  And as I lean forward to take his cock in my mouth, my eyes do not break from your gaze.  I can tell that your cock is hard without being able to see it. I know that you are sat there wishing this were your cock being taken into my mouth.  I know that in the depths of your mind that you wish it was your mouth the cock was forcing its way into.  I know you are desiring, lustful, fervent, and that you are invaded by the words, aroused by what you have seen played out before your eyes.

I tease you with my eyes while I tease him, touch him, taste him.

I am taken to a place of ecstasy and surrender.  He grabs my hair, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, his grip on my hair is hard and harsh but it makes me groan from desire and want him all the more.  I am gagging now as he fucks my mouth, my eyes are no longer locked on you, they are locked on this beautiful cock and the body behind it.  And it is fervent and frenzied and it is rough and hard. And there are tears in my eyes and upon my face as he forces himself deep into my mouth and my throat.  And he is fucking me deeper and harder and I am gasping, gagging, choking, struggling for breath. And your breathing is shallow. And in the distance I hear you moan.

His voice unlocks me. Breaking the hold that he has on me.  Taking me away from the place I had drifted to. I do not hear what he says, but know that he has spoken to you.  You are blushing, humiliated at the words that he has thrown at you.  Seeing you there, like that, arouses me deeply.  I feel the hunger rising, the desire building at your discomfort, at your humiliation, yet knowing that will go straight to your cock.  Just as it goes straight to the depths of me.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"Do you know how wet she is?" He asks you.  You nod, your eyes glazed with longing, with your own desire and arousal.

"I am going to turn her around and I am going to slam my cock deep into her. Hard. You love the sound of my balls slapping against her ass, don't you?"

His words, his voice and your reaction goes straight to my cunt. His words alone orchestrating the build up of another orgasm. 

And he pushes me over to the chair, where he fucks me hard, and I hear your moan as I groan at him entering me.  You are sat there watching him, watching his cock, watching me.  And I cannot get enough of him, and I want him to come in me and on me so he is there for longer, so I can feel him long after he has taken me. So you can taste him upon me long after he has gone.  And his words reverberate around inside me, and his cock is pounding into me.

And he is talking and fucking.  And you are watching. And longing. And wishing.

And I come at his words. And I come as he comes.  And as he comes he is still talking. Still fucking. And you’re still watching.

And he talked. And he fucked. And he talked while he fucked.  His voice, his words, echoing around inside the mind as he continues to whisper in my ear.  

And I beckon to you with a glance.  

There is no talking. 

There is no fucking.  

It's your turn now.

Standing there

He stands there naked.

His eyes gazing down at the floor and I can see how desperate he is to look up, yet not daring to. I can see the strain in the side of his face as he is forcing himself not to raise his gaze, the raised veins in his temples as he grits and grinds his teeth through the nervous fear of the unknown. 

Every so often a shiver runs across him as the coolness of the air hits the heat of his naked skin.  I can clearly see the goosebumps that form on his skin from where I am standing, beads of sweat building up on his forehead and back.


His legs slightly apart. Arms down but away from his sides. Occasionally his toes wriggle as a sign of his nerves. 

The passing time has taught me how to read him, I know when he is nervous, I know how he curls up his big toes as if trying to get a grip on the floor, as if it is going to stop whatever may come his way, the way his jaw when his mouth is closed moves slightly from side to side with tension.

But this time, he looked unsure. Embarrassed even as my eyes bored holes straight through him as I stare.

I look him up and down, tilting my head from one side to another as I look at all that is mine, knowing what I am going to do in my own mind but determined to draw this time out, to witness his fear, his nerves, the anticipation, his arousal.   He shifts a little from being stared at in this way, I can tell from the redness of his face that he is feeling humiliated of my inspection of him. 

I smile at his discomfort.  His vulnerability. I continue to stare.

No words, no touch, no sound, no anything.

I can tell he is growing more nervous the longer he remains there, and I want to go to him to tell him "it's ok".

But I don't. I don't want to reassure him yet, to lull him into a false sense of security ahead of what may come. 

I want to drink all of him in, watching his reactions, the feelings as they course through his body, the fear of the unknown, the nerves, the humiliation of being studied so intently.

Watching him, the feelings flow around my own self, the wanting and longing to touch him, to tease him, to hurt him, to kiss him, to hold him, just to whisper in his ear, for us to fuck with the urgency and need that we have had from the first time that we met.  Watching the battle going on within his head, his own arousal, his humiliation, his fears, arouses me.

I say nothing. I do nothing. I just stand and stare and make an occasional "hmmmmm" as I take in every part of him, my mind racing with all of the images of the things I want to do to him, to inflict upon him. 

"Turn around for me"

He does so, shifting nervously knowing that now he will not even be able to see my feet on the floor where his gaze has been fixed for the time he has been stood there.  His shoulders twitch nervously, he slightly loses his balance so I tell him to spread his legs wider.

I stand, clothed behind him, and simply stand there and watch. 

Knowing the reactions his body will always have, the room is silent, yet it is like I can hear all the things that are running through his mind. 

Taking a couple of steps towards him, he can feel my breath upon his neck, I sense the shiver over his body as he feels it, the anticipation of what to come is coursing through his body. I lean forward and gently whisper into his ear

"Spread your legs baby"

He does so. 

His gaze still towards the floor but I can see from the movement of his face that his eyes have slightly turned as he seeks to look at me where I am stood behind his shoulder.  I run the tip of my fingernail down his spine, the nail just tentatively touching his skin, kissing his neck as I do so.  He shivers once again and a groan escapes from his body.  I know just what he is feeling and I laugh as his cock begins to twitch.

"Your body betrays you" I say to him, as I laugh a little more.  His cheeks redden at the embarrassment of being aroused by such humiliation, of such inspection, of the fear that he is feeling.  He doesn't speak. He knows to remain silent.

Reaching through his legs which are now spread I take hold of his balls and squeeze gently, I feel his body tense, his cock begin to twitch, I twist them, hearing the grasp of his breath. "Oh, does that hurt?" a slight nod of his head mixed with a little shake, his mind confused as to whether it hurts him or not.  I twist them hard and sharp and he groans and moans.

His cock now hard from arousal, his breathing shallow, his body quivering, his eyes still focussed on the floor.  I reach around him with my other hand, taking his cock in my hand.

"Oh my baby is all hard and aroused". Again I laugh, moving my hand backwards and forwards, slowly masturbating his cock even harder, his breathing changes.  And I feel his body tense more and still he looks down, his body beginning to shake a little more from the arousal and anticipation. 

"oh please . . . " he whispers, his voice stuttering as I grip him harder and move my hand faster up the shaft of his cock.  Pre-cum leaks from the end of his cock, I touch it with my finger, bringing it up to his mouth, "Open wide for me" and he does so, hungrily taking my finger into his mouth, sucking and licking.  And it gets me, right there, right in the pit of my stomach.

"Oh my baby is such a slut" I laugh as I say it, once again his cheeks redden, he is so easy to embarrass and humiliate with words as if he is ashamed of the things that arouse him, as if it is wrong.  "It's ok baby" I whisper into his ear, my hand still moving up and down the shaft of his cock, lubricated by the pre-cum, "don't be ashamed, don't be embarrassed that you're such a slut"

His cock strains at the names he is called and I can tell from his growing arousal, from the depth of his breath, from the straining within his cock, the tensing of his body that he is not far from release; a release I do not want him to have yet.  "No baby, you're not going to come for me yet" I say gently, I hear a sigh of frustration, a deep breath of longing and I feel myself fill with feelings for him, towards him, about him, knowing that I have such control over him, something that arouses me too.

I stop, letting go of his cock, and my hand stroking the cheeks of his arse, and I feel him tense, as if he knows what is coming and is fearful of it, wanting it, yet fearing it.  And as I stand there to his side, I reach up and slap his cheek for stopping me from probing into his arse.  I don't know what sends the feelings through me more, the glazed look in his eyes as his head falls away from the sting of my palm, the gasp that comes from his mouth, or the way his cock reacted to the slap of my palm against his cheek.

"Don't stop me" I whisper to him.

And as his eyes continue to roll, as they glaze over and he is in a different place, I feel his body relaxing, the cheeks of his arse becoming softer, and I probe with my finger.

He gasps and groans as I enter him, teasing inside him with one finger.  And his breathing quickens and shortens, and his cock twitches, and he groans and begs.

"Oh god, please, please let me come" he begs, his eyes seek imploringly, desperate to hear the "Yes you may", but his ears do not hear that right now.  And I can sense his desperation, his arousal, his longing.

"Not yet baby, you know what is coming don't you?"

He shakes his head, and he looks like a little child being denied a sweet, and his face looks so sad, he looks so young and vulnerable right then and I want to hold him and touch him, and tell him it's ok. 

And I love him for it, for his vulnerability, and I've loved him for it from the first moment that we met. And I love him for just how he reacts and his openness and that how his body betrays his mind, his emotions, his feelings and his inner self. And I love how during the time we have shared that he has opened himself to me so much and in so many ways.

"Kneel down for me baby" and he knows just what to do, as he leans forward on his elbows and rests his forehead against the rug on the floor. 

He spreads his legs, knowing what is to come, and I can tell that he is nervous, but his body continues to betray his arousal.

I laugh outloud.

I know that he will feel humiliated as I stand behind him inspecting his arse from a slight distance, I know that just as he did when he stood before me that he will be embarrassed as I take in all of his body.

I want to keep him there just like that, for always.  Like a statue to look at forever, his body, his arousal, his reactions, his vulnerability, his longings, his desires on display for ever.

And his body is inviting me in, but I want to keep him there just like that, just so I can look at him in that way for always, just while I decide what I want or don't want to do with him.  A living statue, a beautiful statue of submission and devotion, a beatiful picture of arousal and love, something that I could touch, or lean on, something I could slap, or crop each time I walk past, something I could put my feet upon while I sit and relax, using him like a table or a footstool.  Something that I could explore with my fingers, fuck with a toy, paddle or tease. 

And I want to take him right there and then, and I want us to fuck on the floor like we did the first time we met.  And I am thinking of that right now, of how it felt, of the shock that he had when he realised that it wasn't just going to be the normal sex that he had always known.

"Are you ok baby" I ask, standing from a distance. 

"Yes"

"Tell me, how much you want this, how much you need it"

"I want you"

I smile.

"I want you too baby"

He smiles.

"I need you"

I smile again.

"I want you and need you . . . " "Oh god I need you". "I adore you . . ." as he gushes with lots of declarations of needs and wants and love. And I smile at him and god I want him so much too.

And his body shivers, and my body responds and hearing him say this goes straight to my cunt.

I walk up to him, standing behind him, and take the large butt plug that is on the table, rubbing lube all over and around the plug. I place it at the tight entrance to his arse, he starts to tense and I slap his cheeks so damn hard with my hand that my hand stings and burns. He cries out in pain and surprise.

"Don't stop me baby, you need this just as you need me, now open yourself to me"

And like the good boy that he is, he spreads his legs, offering himself to me, using his hands to spread his cheeks so I have all the access that I need.  I lean forward and slowly push the plug inside him, he gasps and cries out. 

"Oh my god, I can't take it, I can't take this."

"Take it for me baby, take it all for me"

And I slowly push the plug deep into his depths, and he cries with each little push, and I can feel it stretching him to a limit we haven't explored as yet. 

"Good boy, you're such a good boy baby"

And between his gasps and his whimpers I hear a broken "thank you" and he is still there, his legs spread, his head still down on the floor and he is gasping and crying out and he is moaning and groaning, and I continue to push the plug deep inside of him, and I hear a gentle sob come from him and that hits me even more. 

"It's nearly there baby", I say gently encouraging him to hold on, but not intending to stop.

"It hurts, oh my god it hurts so badly, I can't take any more."

"I know baby, I know it hurts, but it feels so good doesn't it?"

I do not give him time to answer, instead I push it in more, and he lets out the deepest of groans and his cock is hard and dripping with cum, and his head starts to move up from the floor as his body begins to move and I know that he is losing himself to the moment of pain, of arousal, of being stretched and filled and that his fear and nerves have all melted away as he drifts off to the place of taking it all, of pleasing, of wanting it.  And he groans and moans, and gasps and he cries out, his body almost being wracked with the sobs as the tears fall from his eyes.

And god, seeing him hurt in this way, taking it, giving himself over to the moment to me, makes me want to hurt him all the more, and it makes me feel for him all the more. And I can feel my own arousal, my own needs screaming in my head.

"That's it baby, take it all for me now, you're doing so well baby"

The plug is almost in to its depth, and I love how his arsehole has stretched and I pull the plug out gently so I can see just how much he has opened himself to me, and I take his cock in my hand and start to move my hand up and down the shaft, harder and faster and as I push the plug deep back into his arse hard and fast and his cock twitches "OH FUCK!" he screams out and I laugh.

And his breathing gets faster and his cock gets harder and his body begins to move and as he arches his back as beads of sweat break out on his forehead and his beautiful back.

"Come for me baby"

"Oh god" he cries out

And as his cum spurts from his cock, his body arches even more and he shudders as I continue to move my hand up and down his cock as he continues to spurt and shudder.

The plug still deep within his arse. 

He is spent, his body shaking and shivering as he curls into a ball on the floor.  I sit down, bringing him into my arms, stroking his head gently as he places it into my lap, as he slowly comes back into the here and now.  And as he looks up to me, I smile, his eyes still glazed as he smiles back, still lost to the pain of being filled, but the pleasure of the release from the intensity of his orgasm that I have granted him.

I lean forward and kiss the top of his head. And I love him for what he gives to me, and I love him for all I can take from him.

"Oh baby, you did so well"

"Thank you" he smiles as he closes his eyes with a long deep breath in and out as his body relaxes and recovers. And I hold him close while he comes back to me knowing that this is just the start.

A wonderful moment not to be forgotten.

I haven't.

I need to . . .

A very late night.

A few hours sleep.

A nightime text conversation with someone from the past brings thoughts to the surface, memories of things from the past.

"Vanilla times".

Yet none of the times of mine in the past were or have ever really been "vanilla".  Not D/s. Not S&M, but certainly not vanilla either.

Vanilla maybe with adventure. 

Adventurous sex, adventurous fucking.  Dirty sex. Animalistic sex.  Lots of it. But certainly LOTS of kink.

Memories of the first "date", the long lingering eye contact over the drink, neither of us wanting to be there, knowing what was to come the moment we would get home.  But not actually waiting until we got home!

Memories of that first time, the first kiss, the first fuck.  The first time that he forced his wonderfully large circumcised cock deep into my arse.  The first time I took him deep into my mouth and down into my throat. The first time he filled me with his cum, the first time I forced his head down between my legs to lick it all out.  The first time he pulled my hair. The first time I pulled his.  The first time he spanked me.  The first time I tortured his cock.  The first time he fisted my cunt.

Lots of wonderful, downright fucking horny memories.

Fuck!

I needed to cum.

I needed a release, a nice deep, orgasm!  

Where is the boy when I need him?!

Too far away to be able to do anything about it.  I sent him a text, telling him to edge for 10 minutes. I wanted the boy aroused, I wanted the boy frustrated, I wanted the boy to be on the edge when I called him.

He edged. He told me he had finished.

I call.

Hear his voice, his sighs, his frustrations. 

And fuck it makes me horny all over again, I want that first time all over again, the first kiss, the first fuck, I want to feel his tongue deep in my arse. I need to cum.

The boy knows what I am about to do. He knows. I know.

I play, while we talk.

The large vibrator deep into my cunt that has been getting decidedly more wet all morning. 

The smaller one deep into the arse where I want to feel the boys tongue.  Another one on my clit that is hard and throbbing.  Yes I am greedy. I don't care.

And the boys frustration is heard and felt.

I don't care about that either.  

I know how much I tease him, I know how much it frustrates him, but I know how much he loves to hear it, I know how it makes him feel and it makes me want to do it all of the more. 

And I want to cum.

And fuck I am horny, and fuck I am wet.

And fuck I need to cum.


And I hear him sigh, I hear his frustrations and I am talking to the boy, using him for my own pleasure even from a distance, using him to make me cum, knowing that he cannot, knowing that it will just add to the frustrations he has already told me are beyond what he has ever known.

And I do.

I cum.

The juices shooting out over the vibrator that is deep within my cunt.

And I needed that.  

We lose connection.

But, I've got what I wanted.  I used the boy in the way that I needed.  The boy still remains denied.

I feel better for that.

Does he? Probably not.

Do I care? No.

This "phone thing" has never really been my thing. But I like it at the moment. It's one of the options we have while distance and life keeps us apart and only getting together when we can.  (I Hate that!) but  I like that I can torment him in this way, when I need to, when I want to. That I can use him in this way.

After all, that is what he is there for.